Three days ago on April 16, 2023, we saw a headline stating, “Zahir Jaffer challenges his death sentence.”
639 days ago on July 20, 2021 another one was written, “Zahir Jaffer brutally murdered and beheaded Noor Mukadam in Islamabad.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the law is still taking its course; that’s for another day to deliberate upon. More than six hundred moons ago: the news of Noor’s gruesome murder sent shudders down my spine, a tragedy forever.
I had neither met Noor, nor did I know her. ‘Zahir killed Noor’, but these three words did not gain acceptance and endorsement by the public at large—that’s the saddest part. She was kept hostage and tortured most painfully for days by Zahir before he beheaded her, a brutality which commanded the country’s leadership to show up on the television and condemn it. Or maybe send out a tweet at least? A public display of sincere empathetic affection, on the lines of New Zealand’s Prime Minister Jacinda Arden perhaps?
Only our Foreign Minister stood in solidarity and sent a tweet—for that, I am grateful because it matters and it sets the tone. The problem is bigger than that, though. Many of those we know, and people who make up most of our national social lives: did not unconditionally condemn it either. They had and still have all the ifs and buts stuck in their hearts and minds, the culmination of their thoughts is at ‘but’—trying to be curious about Noor’s role in all this and they blamed the victim. There’s also a segment that condemned the brutal murder, who marched, chanted slogans, lit vigils, stood in solidarity with Noor—we did that.
They blame the victim; we condemn the murderer.
Are we severely outnumbered?
This is not to highlight discord, or the lack of national consensus on a matter of simple and aggressive condemnation but it is to provoke thought on what went wrong where—on the timeline of this nation known as Pakistan. Is it something deeply and wrongly embedded in the thought process or maybe its mere indifference, or is it a lack of genuine regard for women?
Chivalry stands cornered and hangs its head in shame, thinking that it’s a far cry anyway. Looking back—Pakistanis have a lot to regret in terms of cases of violence against women. The cases involving the death victims from the recent past include the murder of Qandeel Baloch by her brother, the rape and murder of 7-year-old Zainab by Imran, the murder of Asma Rani by Mujahid Afridi, the murder of Sana Cheema by her father and brother. Dr Maha Shah was raped and tortured and she committed suicide, the murder of Samina Naz Khattak by her son, the murder of Myrah Zulfiqar by Zahir Jadoon. Qurat ul Ain was murdered by her husband Umer Khalid, and Noor was killed by Zahir. In retrospect, here’s the pattern after the victim’s demise: the law takes its course, Justice is usually delayed, and acquittals happen too—and humans are a forgetful race anyway. Again, to be or not be is not a question anymore—the question is: are we outnumbered?
The answer is yes, we are outnumbered. With this answer comes an intricate web of apprehensions, horror, sadness and a shaking revelation that they all don’t abhor and condemn violence against women with all their heart. They don’t swarm the streets for real issues like these, they don’t shout their lungs out on the podiums for real issues like these, they simply don’t; we are severely outnumbered indeed.
Rest in peace, departed women—we are sorry.