Honour Killing....

The mighty Sun was slowly rising up to its eastern Gates as it shed its unblemished rays of pure sunlight into the dusty village near Karachi. The murky streets were filled with an unearthly hollowness that was able to scare unsuspecting newcomers.
A few donkeys with bushy brown fur strolled in a mysterious pace,known only to its clansmen.
The box-like houses were in full action by now. Women of all ages were now up hustling busily around the house to prepare breakfast.
In one of the houses with a weathered layer of paint lived Fathima. Fathima felt feverish and was sweating profusely.
Her mother started shaking Fathima’s shoulders again, asking join her in the dingy kitchen.
‘Fathima, wake up my dear,’ she said softly as the uncomfortable shaking suddenly halted. What happened to Fathima yesterday was beyond comprehension of normal mortals.
Unforgiving visions of yesterday started flashing instantaneously in her feverish mind.
Her sister, Asmah was as beautiful as a freshly bloomed rose and tales of her mesmerising elegance travelled like the fragrance of perfume, intoxicating men around the sleepy village.
The door now knocked hard and firm. It was her father! Fathima forced herself up before her father could enter. The beastly voice of middle aged man echoed throughout the room creating an eerie aura."Get up you lazy cow! Do you want to end up like your shameless sister!" he said as he slammed the door open. The rusty hinges shrieked as the man entered. His face was filled with overgrown graying beard with a pair devilish eyes that pierced right trough Fathimah’s feeble soul. Fathima tried her best to push herself up but the her scalded palms up but last week’s beatings decided to work against her will.
Her eyes swelled with tears and suddenly, she felt a strong punch on her stomach. Her long black hair was twisted and pulled so hard,she let go a cry. A fatal mistake.
The beast kicked her stomach savagely until she started coughing up blood She closed her eyes tightly,trying her best to keep quiet.
" Dad, i am sorry" she said as she gasped deeply for air as his venomous hands choked her throat . Her hands moved frantically trying to free herself from the unkindly treatment. A murky shadow was seen floating near the door. She knew it was her mother waiting patiently behind the wooden door.e same happened to Asmah yesterday but it had a horrific twist. He brought in a hunting gun with him instead when he entered the room. Her mother and Fathima cried and banged the wooden door determined to stop the man from hurting Asmah. Pitiful cries were heard inside the room as he kicked and punched Asmah’s body. " Dad, please stop ! I beg you, i am innocent. Please show me some mercy" and the wailing continued.
‘Never! You have brought shame to our family by sleeping with that man!" he said as he loaded his gun. " Khairil was lying. I was not sleeping with him. He was the one who spoke to me but i walked away. I swear upon the Mighty Allah that not a single word was uttered. Trust me father, please i am innocent!" The mother and Fathima continued forcing the door open as the voice of her father thundered across the room.
" My dear, please open this door. Spare my child and kill me instead...." said the wailing mother. The old door was unable to stand the force of these women and flung opened at last. But it was barely enough to save Asmah.
Fathima managed to see Asmah’s teary eyes for the last time befor he shot her. The sound of the shot was heard across the quiet village as neighbours rushed out and looked around. They somewhat predicted what had just happen as this was not the first time such ‘noices’ were heard in the rural village.
The poor mother fainted in an instant. Fathima cried like a mad woman. She wailed and shook Asmah’s dead body calling out her name. She felt an unseen rage building up in her because she knew Asmah was innocent. " Asmah,Asmah,wake up dear sister!"
Fathima stood up and cried to her father, " She is not guilty. Khairil kept on forcing her to marry him but she refused because she knew you will not agree. Khairil is the that should die. Oh no, not him but you. Dear Father you deserve to die!" The man who was still holding his Afgan gun marched wildly towards Fathima and slapped her so hard that she fell back on Asmah’s body.
She cried silently on Asmah’s lifeless body as heat slowly dissipated away from it.
And there she was the next day. The body was gone. Only vague stains of blood were left behind on the brick wall. She slowly forced all the might she had left and walked out of the room.
Her mother looked at her and turned back. It seemed her other siblings did not bother to ask what had happened as they savoured the dry tasteless chapati with some boiled potatoes.
Fathimah’s mind was blurred . Her vision was nearly white. She tried to cry but she could not. Her body felt so numb and she walked around the house like a soulless puppet.
An unseen determination soon swelled. She heard her father talking to her uncle about an Parkistani-american activist. He came back to his homeland to stop the butchering of women of all ages in the name of honour. He was staying temporarily a few blocks away near the village well. If she was able to convince him, she would be able to avenge Asmah's death.
" Mother," Farthima said and she looked at Fathima at once.
"Yes my dear, what is the matter?" she said,swallowing an invisible lump in her throat. "Let me go and fetch you some water" she said as her scarred hands slowly reached the earthen pot.
Seeing her daughter so eager to fufill the task,she agreed after a long pause. Fathima carefully picked up all the might she had left and used the back passage. There was a rarely used path behind which connects all the houses in the narrow street. Her eyes looked around wildly as her feet slowly took charge.
She reached the old brush house where the man was staying. Carefully she placed her pot down on a small patch of dried grass. She knocked the window as hard as she could. The bruises on her palms stopped her for gripping them any further. The windows flung open and a handsome young lad with an even tan was standing right in front of her. "Please sir do not make any noise. O kind sir,please help me to punish my father! He killed my own flesh and blood!" and as streams of tears started flowing, she told the man everything that happened to Asmah. "Sir, you are well educated so please help me to stop this! Women are not machines but are normal souls which must be treated with respect," she said as she wiped her tears. He smiled and answered "the Mighty Allah has fulfilled my prayers. I am actually here for another reason. Please return to your home at once." Fathima was left in schock felt hopeless and she carried the pot towards the well. " What a beautiful young lady.... and spirit to match it" said the lawyer.
As she walked back carrying the pot on her head, she saw the young lad again,waiting for her outside his brush house. He gave her a sincere smile and greeted her. Fathima fearing her father might see her turned back and glided straight into her house.
That night the local imam came with the a stranger. Fathima was folding clothes in the room when she heard mysterious voices in the living room. She spied through the narrow gap in the door and saw the young man. She was worried he might be another ‘animal’ like Khairil and prayed hard. When she saw a vague silloutte walking towards the door she gave way.
" Fathima!" said her mother and she hugged her daughter. " The man wants to marry you my daughter!" and teard began to flow in their eyes.
At last,she now know she will be able to avenge the death of Asmah and bring a better future for young women in Karachi.