Karo Kari

Fatima could bear the shrieks no longer. She covered her ears with her hands and knelt down, on the ground, amidst the large group of people, none of whom noticed her. She dared not close her eyes for she knew she would picture the whole scene because of the sounds.

The city of Sanghar in interior Sind was not exactly the best place for romance but these things don’t matter in real life, especially in a young, eighteen-year old, college girl’s life, who hasn’t ever stepped out of the place in all her life. Though she had recently come in touch with the glamour of Karachi and Lahore, through Taj Babbar’s eyes.

Taj Babbar was a trader. He earned a lot when he took his ware to Karachi and Lahore and some other cities. He was often travelling. That is why Khursheed saw less of him; which was perhaps good because there was always the danger of their getting caught.

Fatima had always hinted at this danger and tried to make Khursheed see the reality:

“He is below your status, Khur…he is ten years older than you and worst of all, he is married!”
“No, he is divorced! But the girl’s family is hiding it for the sake of their family’s name.”
“Six months to our intermediate exams, Khur and then you will be married to Gauhar.”
“Never!”
“But your family is already talking about it and you’ll be engaged soon!”
“Never!”
“It was already a great thing when they let you study up to college level. You can’t expect them to agree on any condition. And anyway, there is no concept at all of love marriage even if there was no objection regarding the guy. What do you plan to do then?”

Khursheed did not reply, looked down at the Hyderabadi bangles Taj had gifted to her and smiled a sad smile.

Fatima looked furiously at an old woman cursing the couple, who were being ruthlessly beaten inside the house. She felt like strangling the woman but at that moment, her eyes stopped at Gauhar, and the anger shifted from one animal to the other and she froze as she heard the words spoken by another of the party, “She is refusing to accept that you are her husband, Gauhar, and that Taj kidnapped her.”

“No regret so far? She will soon! Ruin her sight!”

Fatima had woken up from a long sleep. For a few minutes she could not understand where she was and how she had fallen asleep. She could not remember anything. When she had regained her full consciousness, she realised that she was in her best friend’s bedroom. The glass lay empty on the table before her.

“Something in my juice?” she said to herself.

Then horror struck her and she jumped up from the bed. Khursheed had been unusually nice to her that day but had not revealed anything. Fatima had thought that her friend was in a good mood because of something Taj had said. She had also been unusually calm that day, as Fatima now reflected. Or was it all a drama? Khursheed must have been really nervous before she fled. Was she already out of the city or had they been caught?

She went up to the cupboard and searched for the small, black bag. It was gone and anyway, she did not need any confirmation that the escape had taken place. She felt it had happened even though, up till now she had not realised that her friend was so madly in love that she would dare to even think of anything of the sort. Fatima shuddered when she remembered the numerous honour-killings in the past few months of those who had been caught.

“I hope I never see you again Khur!” said she and broke down.
“What’s happening?” asked Ahmed, who had just returned from his business activities in another town. He was one of the neighbours.
“Karo-kari,” said someone.”
“Who?” he asked unemotionally.
“Taj Babbar – karo and Khursheed, Ali Soomro’s daughter, is the kari.”

Ahmed whistled slightly and then turned to Fatima, who was looking at him with horror-stricken eyes, “Why didn’t you advise your friend?” he asked in a low voice and then moved away quickly. Fatima glared at him. This was the person she had often smiled at and giggled about with her friends, a few years back.

“They’re coming back,” Fozia had said excitedly, clapping her hands.
“Who?” Fatima’s heart seemed to stop.
“Khursheed Apa and her husband,” replied eleven-year old Hanifa, innocently.
“Why? And who told you?”
“They were married in Karachi. They are coming to clear all misunderstandings…that he is divorced and that she is not married to Gauhar. They will go and show their documents to the police…Mr.D.Laghari.”
“But…”

“Hanifa, where are you?”

And Hanifa ran away but Fatima understood the whole affair herself. Would Mr.D.Laghari save her friend and her husband? Why were they taking the risk? Just because they did not want to earn a bad name? Or were they being forcibly brought back?

“Don’t come, Khur…don’t come,” she wanted to yell and stop her friend.
But they came and went straight to the police station. They were asked to bring their documents the next day. The reason for the delay was not clear. And it paved the way for a new atrocity.

Fatima was not the only one there to pity the poor souls. Several people were miserable but nobody dared to go forward and hamper the violence, as they feared the influential and powerful people of the town. Fatima gathered courage and took a step forward. But before she could act, a middle-aged widow and Gauhar’s kind-hearted cousin, started howling and pleading them to at least leave Khursheed. They dragged her away and what her fate was, Fatima had not the heart to listen to. Miserably, she went and sat down by a tree, near the place. The sounds were very vague over there and she closed her eyes.

What seemed like ages, at last passed. She felt that people were moving away. Had it all ended then? Then she heard the sound of a door of the house and then of two things being thrown out. Then came the voices of Khursheed’s father, elder brother and Gauhar. She did not listen to what they were saying and slowly, their footsteps faded.

After five or ten minutes more, during which she had been trying to build enough courage to look around, a hand rested slightly on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and wiped her tears to see properly. It was Mr.D.Laghari.

“Go home,” he said.

With the help of a branch and what strength was left in her, she stood up and looked at him with a certain amount of surprise.

“You go home,” he said again. “We will take the bodies.”

In the meantime, Fatima’s mother had come in search of her. Without a word to the police officer and with her mother’s help, she made her way home. On the way, out of the corners of her eyes, she saw two mutilated figures lying together, united in death.


(Based on true & recent incidents of honour-killing in Sindh, Pakistan)