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?