1. A Pakistani boy prays at a local mosque where arrangements are made for people to break their fast in Karachi, Pakistan. Muslims throughout the world are marking Ramadan, a month of fasting, during which observant Muslims abstain from food, drink and other pleasures from sunrise to sunset. (AP Photo/Shakil Adil)
2. A Pakistan Muslim woman offers an evening prayer at Grand Faisal Mosque in Islamabad, Pakistan. (AP Photo/Anjum Naveed)
3. Pakistani Muslim men serve Iftar food for Muslim devotees before they break their fast, during the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan in Islamabad. (AAmir Qureshi/AFP/Getty Images)
4. A Pakistani Muslim buys a praying rug at a shop as he prepares for Islamic holy month of Ramadan in Peshawar, Pakistan. (AP Photo/Mohammad Sajjad)
5. A Pakistani worshipper arrives for a midday prayer at a recently painted mosque in preparation for upcoming Islamic holy month of Ramadan in Rawalpindi, Pakistan.(AP Photo/Anjum Naveed)
6. Pakistani Muslims wait to break their fast during the holy fasting month of Ramadan on a street in Karachi. (Asif Hassan/AFP/Getty Images)
7. Pakistani Muslims receive Iftar food as they break their fast during the holy fasting month of Ramadan on a street in Karachi on July 2, 2014. The fasting month of Ramadan is sacred for the world’s estimated 1.6 billion Muslims.(Asf Hassan/AFP/Getty Images)
8. People offer Friday prayers at the Shahi Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan.(AP Photo/K.M. Chaudary)
9. A Pakistani family waits to break their fast in the compound of Pakistan’s Mughal era Shahi Mosque during the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan. (AP / K.M.Chaudary)
10. Pakistan Muslims offer an evening prayer called ‘tarawih’ marking the first eve of the holy fasting month of Ramadan, at an open area in Karachi, Pakistan.. (AP Photo/Fareed Khan)
This past Monday would also have been Nazia Hassan’s 53rd birthday. Pakistanis were able to see a Google Doodle of one of their favorite singers.
“ Hassan was not only a talented singer, but also a devoted scholar and humanitarian. Using her law degree, she worked at the U.N. as well as for UNICEF. She was passionate about the rights of young people, and often took the time to visit impoverished schools in Pakistan. Her life was tragically cut short by lung cancer at the age of 35.”
The women marchers shouted slogans: "Women are here, harassers must fear!" Male bystanders gaped and shook their heads. It was a milestone event.
We were hundreds of women, marching on the streets of Karachi, Pakistan.
We shouted slogans. ’“Aurat aiee, aurat aiee, tharki teri shaamath aiee!” (Women are here, harassers must fear!)
We raised our fists in the air, smiling, laughing.
We wore what we wanted to wear: burqas, jeans and designer shades, brightly embroidered skirts, the traditional tunic and baggy trousers called shalwar kameez.
Men gaped, shook their heads, filmed us from passing cars as we walked by, disrupting traffic.
We did not care what the men thought of us.
We were free to stand, walk, dance, with nobody to tell us to sit down, be quiet, be good.
It was the first time in my life that I saw women gathering in public, in strength, in numbers.
This was the Aurat (Urdu for “women”) March, the first of its kind in the conservative Muslim country of Pakistan. There were actually three marches — in Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad – all held on March 8, International Women’s Day.
Word spread through Facebook and Twitter posts among the various networks of women involved in grassroots work — in education, health, microfinance, women’s shelters, workers’ rights.
Objectives were ambitious: a demand for the recognition of women’s rights and gender equality, and an end to the hideous scourge of gender violence, among other aims.
But the overriding intent was to raise the morale of Pakistani women. The constant drip of misogyny can turn life into a misery, where you are considered a lucky woman if you have a husband who doesn’t beat you. The Aurat March wanted to remind women that the bar doesn’t need to be set that low.
Before the march began, activists took to the stage and spoke of their struggles and triumphs. Veeru Kohli, a member of the Dalit community in the Thar Desert (low-caste Hindus known by the epithet of “untouchables”) related how she escaped a life of slave labor to become a political activist. Kainat Soomro, a victim of gang rape at 13 who is trying to take her rapists to court, described her as yet unsuccessful 11-year fight for justice. An activist from the Christian community excoriated the government for ignoring the scourge of forced conversions, where Muslim men kidnap minority women, force them to convert to Islam and marry them against their consent.
The March brought together women across class, ethnic, and religious lines. University students cheered on older feminist icons. Placards in English and Urdu read “Patriarchy is Fitna (sedition)”, “Kebab Rolls not Gender Roles”, “Woman is King” and “Stop Killing Women.” Children waved orange and yellow flags with the Aurat March logo, and 97-year-old folk singer Mai Dhai sang and banged enthusiastically on a dhol, the traditional Pakistani drum played at weddings, stirring women and men to dance together in a spirit of festivity and celebration.
For the first time, I felt as though the invisible ties that held me back, those hundreds of written and unwritten rules about Pakistani women’s behavior in public, had been cut through with a blowtorch.
A small group of trans women watched from the edges, nervous and scared, but they soon joined in, along with the procession of nuns bearing giant crosses and the Dalit women from the desert. We marched behind women in red, members of the working women’s union, bussed in from Hyderabad. We marched, hair bare or covered, to the beat of the drums and the pounding of our hearts.
We were accompanied by women on motorcycles, girls on pink bikes. Tens of men and boys joined us. We walked next to women wearing masks portraying the face of Qandeel Baloch, the social media star who was murdered by her brother two years ago because he could not stand her bold, risqué public persona. They bore a symbolic coffin containing a body shrouded in white, calling it “patriarchy’s funeral.”
It’s been three decades since members of the Women’s Action Forum were beaten on the streets for protesting the Islamization laws of dictator General Zia in the early 1980s. Pakistani women in 2018 still find themselves trampled under decades of discrimination and oppression. But the Aurat March has motivated them to demand equality and justice. The Aurat March has uncovered an undeniable truth: The revolution has arrived in Pakistan — and it is a women’s revolution.
She gained international acclaim as the voice of conscience in a country where liberal, secular voices have been under threat.
I can’t come up with many things that are braver than defending women’s rights and the rule of law in Pakistan. I am ashamed to say I did not know of Asma Jahangir until today, and humbled by what I learned about her. People like her really do represent the best humanity has to offer.
“I think cultural diversity makes human rights even richer. It is a part of human rights to actually respect cultural diversity, to encourage it. But cultural diversity does not mean inhuman treatment of other human beings.”
“My father was treated as a traitor and we were treated as children of a traitor. Now I take pride in the fact that being a traitor means to stand up for a good cause and for the right cause. My father was arrested. I feel very proud that he went to jail because he did the right thing.”
“Eventually things will have to get better. However, the way they will improve is not going to be because of the government or the elite leadership, or the political leadership, or the institutions of our country, most of which have actually crumbled. It will be the people of the country themselves who will bring about the change in society because they have had to struggle to fend for themselves at every level.”
Dates are a famous produce of Dera Ismail Khan. Dhaki, a small village in this northwestern Pakistani region, is known for its chuara – dry palm dates with hardened skin. These dates are distinguished by their distinct flavor and are considered a concentrated source of nutrients. Accordingly to a survey, this area produce 90,000 kilograms of Date Annually, & imported to India, Middle East, Europe & United States, A Sunset view of Date trees🌴& fields of Dhaki Village, Dera Ismail Khan, Pakistan 🇵🇰
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