Baba

4th September, 2009: I was attending a seminar hosted by Amina Masood, chairperson Defence of Human Rights, struggling for the release of the Missing Persons phenomena that has evolved in Pakistan post 9/11, 2001. As I heard different national and international speakers speaking, my attention was caught by a little boy of about four standing on a chair in front of me. He was holding a picture.

I asked about the boy. I got to know that his father is among the missing persons; the child has never seen his father and neither has the father seen the child. The picture that he was holding up was that of his Baba.

It was a shock and a realization.

My husband and I have been living separate for about two-and-a-half years. It is not an issue of divorce, separation or even problems with each other. My husband and I have an excellent relationship. It is just that my husband’s job got transferred to Lahore and I continued my studies in Islamabad.

As the separate living began to take its toll, my son and I used to sit in front of Allah SWT and pray, pray hard to Allah SWT that Baba gets a transfer back to Islamabad, or may be a new job in Islamabad. Till that a time, we were making-do with weekend visits.

Once, his Baba mistakenly left behind his sweatshirt. My babysitter told me that he found his Baba’s sweatshirt lying on the mattress and began caressing it lovingly, saying ‘Baba…’.

In another visit, as he saw his Baba packing up, he hurriedly brought out his shoes and began pushing his feet inside them, muttering ‘I will go with you Baba…’ (He had yet not learnt to put on his shoes).

Yet another time, as Baba explained to him that he was going to ‘office’ and that he was too young to accompany him, he measured himself from head to toe and said ‘Look Baba, I am big now. I can go with you…’.

When I used to take him to the park, I tried to play Mama and Baba both, but it was getting difficult for me to be sporty and upbeat all the time especially with another child on the way and me myself feeling the depression of the absence of my husband.

So we began to pray. I would make my son sit in front of me on the Ja’e Namaz and together we would hold our hands up to Allah SWT, praying for a reunion of the family, praying for Baba to return to us.

Yet, I would secretly implore Allah SWT…’O’ Allah, do not You see these little hands praying unto You? O’ Allah, do not You feel Mercy for this little child? O’ Allah, You are Al-Qadir, Powerful over Everything, cannot You bring back Baba to us?’

Allah SWT replied me by the standing up of that four-year-old, who stood up holding his missing Baba’s picture at the seminar of Amina Masood.

Do not we see the families of Missing Persons knocking door-to-door since several years? Do not we feel mercy for the plight of these Missing Persons and their families? Cannot we, a nation who brought back the CJ to his office, do anything, anything at all for the issue of Missing Persons?

Cannot we attend their protest calls to strengthen their cause? Cannot we write to the authorities registering our concern for their plight? Cannot we financially help the ridden families whose bread-winners have been snatched away? For details, please visit www.dhrpk.org and www.musawemeen.blogspot.com.

The dilemma of my child and I is only as much of a decision where I decide to give up my studies and shift to Lahore with my husband. What about the dilemma of the families of Missing Persons? Which flight should they book to instantly reach their loved-ones? Which flight should the four-year-old take to reach his Baba today?

The Story of Hafzah

It is not actually the story of Hafzah, but the girl, at the time this happened to her, requested absolute anonymity for fear of more harassment. However, since she came to Jamya Hafzah for help, it becomes her story as well.

‘Am I allowed to commit suicide if my life has become worse than death?’, was her legal question to the Dar-ul-Ifta of Jamya Hafzah. Of course, a tremor of horrified concern rippled around and the principal, Umme Hassaan, was called in. To cut a long story short, the girl was being black-mailed by porn-photographs for prostitution.

She had done a misadventure of her life that she was paying dearly for. A ‘friend’ of her had persuaded her to play hooky from college and come along with her to a parlor for beauty treatment. As she entered the parlor, she was pounced upon by men, sexually assaulted and photographed naked with them. The Lady of the House, Aunty Shamim, next began calling her in for prostitution calls. Some months later she informed her that she now intended to send her to the UAE for the same job. She was instructed to runaway from home with an imaginary boyfriend.

Instead, she came to Jamya Hafzah.

From there on things happened what you and I read and saw in the Media in 2007. Some of it was true and some of it hoaxed. Unrelated issues became part of the story. Objectives and events inter-mingled. And opportunity was cashed for ulterior motives.

Nonetheless, I do not think the Skies and Earth of Islamabad will ever forget the poignant moment when the Lady of the House raised her finger towards to sky and at the Jamya Hafzians, vowing ‘I shall bring down this Madrassah of yours. Certainly, I shall bring down this Madrassah of yours…’. Poignant, I say, because the defenders of the nation and the nation, knowingly or unknowingly, became party to her vengeance as they steered the artillery and the action was applauded.

And the Madrassah indeed came down, to uphold the honor of a woman.

There were certainly other issues inclusive, like the bulldozing of mosques, the epidemic of explicit vulgarity and a demand for the implementation of the Islamic Constitution, the Shariah, but certainly not a mere patch of land, i.e. the Children’s Library. One does not sacrifice a mother, a brother, a son and a whole institute for a small patch of land.

I sometimes wonder. Had Ms. Asma Jahangir rampaged the Lady’s residence, as she does to save victims of domestic violence, would she have been busted this way? Would Sir Edhi have been busted? Would Sir Ansar Burney?

“Let there arise from among you a band of people who should invite to righteousness, enjoin good and forbid evil; such are the ones who shall be successful.”
[The Holy Qur~an, 3:104]

Why the difference between Asma Jahangir's raids and that of Jamya Hafsa's? Is it because in our hearts of hearts we do not actually consider prostitution, forced or otherwise, a crime? Or is prostitution, by some far-fetched notion, a woman’s right? Or of men’s?

Or is our prejudiced, un-researched distaste for Maulanas, Abaya-clad girls and Madaris, so harsh, that we will make sure we do not conceive anything worthy about them? Perhaps it gladdens our gluttony of hatred (it has to be vented somewhere! Them have been a favorite so far…) to swallow just any rubbish retold in their name. It is also in style to hate and reject them. How many of us ordinary folks actually went to them to know their side of the story? The Islamabadites, atleast?

Yet what is more ponderous is this. Jamya Hafzah was punished for taking the law into her own hands no matter how noble the cause. Okay. What happened to the Lady of the House?