Dear Noor,
I hope you’re well. (Now this sounds like a professional email). But I mean it. I know you’re in a much better place, because life in this world is rather hellish. We held your vigil in Toronto on the full moon last month, and now a month and a full moon later, I can finally sit with my feelings. I wish you were still here, but the moment I try to imagine your suffering; the fear and the panic you must’ve felt — I feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s been five years since I last saw you. I remember how lovely it was to see you again (you said the same), your beautiful, long hair, your wide, honest laugh, and your eyes that curled up every time you did. We were older, but little had changed.
We all went to different schools, but Islamabad is such a small city, and most of us from these private schools end up meeting one another somehow. Whether it was congregating at Haunted Hill, bumping into each other at Rendezvous, or at a mutual friend’s house — our circles grew wider and simultaneously smaller. Growing up in Islamabad gave me some of my greatest memories, and you are a part of them.
‘Acts of service’ was definitely your love language, because during the time we were close, you did so many acts of kindness for me. You even came to drop me off to the airport the day I was leaving Islamabad permanently, and thinking of it now breaks my heart twice. Because that still remains the most traumatic morning of my life, but at least you—a force of positivity—were there. And now I can’t look at those photos.
I was accustomed to my ‘elite’ circle of friends, before branching out (because I couldn’t handle much of their shallowness and superficiality), but this was the circle in which Zahir was a part of. I never really liked Zahir, even though we spent time together over a number of years. As a teen he enjoyed being viewed and depicted as strange, but I feel like his mother rarely told him he was good enough, and his father was passive. Of course, a bully of a mother and an absent father do not create a murderer — nor does a mental illness, a satanic cult, monetary incentive, or the dark web.
*
Other feminists and intellectuals will dismiss my speculations, my theories, or more accurately — my spiralling into an info-dumping abyss to try and find an answer, a reason, even if it alienates and humanizes him. Why? Because I alienate you. Because not everyone knows how much of a light you truly were. And because I can’t separate the two of you — my position is unique and distressing. I genuinely don’t know how to be dishonest Noor, and that was one of the reasons for my unfounded, cult-like popularity in Islamabad: I was blunt (and aggressive) when no-one else really was (except for men, since these are traditionally masculine qualities). But so were you, even if your bluntness was shrouded in warmth and kindness, you questioned others’ meanness, bullying, or cruelty with compassionate inquiry:
“Why do you say that?”, “How does it make this person [insert insult]?” You were quite good at making others question their ill-intentioned or less thought-out actions and statements. I’ve wondered if that’s why Zahir murdered you, in the most sickening, heinous, and contemptible way possible. Because you were simply too good. Because your light shined so bright. Because you made him question his detestable self, a self overflowing with hatred, entitlement, egomania, and hyper-misogyny. But mostly, selfishness. Because when it truly came down to it, I don’t think he could tolerate your light being shined on others, your warmth and kindness being shared, if it wasn’t in his sole possession. If you couldn’t be his ‘property,’ or his ‘trophy,’ one with exclusivity…
Then you can’t be anyone else’s.
*
My God, Noor! Of course you were too compassionate, pure, and loving to most that you couldn’t see the evilness in his eyes. I look at his eyes in the recent photos of him on the news, and I shudder. I look at his parents, and I want to shake them and scream: How could you let this happen? Why did you let women into your home, leave Zahir to his own devices, when he was forbidden from being alone in the same room as sister? What is wrong with you sick, delusional people? How much do you care about your image, that the literal spawn of satan is free to do as he pleases? Why are you such a patriarchally violent mother, lying for your son and saving him, at the expense of the more vulnerable? Do you remember what you said about me when I was sixteen? That I was ugly.
How could anyone ever expect you to care about the safety of women, when you’ve enabled your own son to abuse you and others — while saving him from his violence, every time? I hate you people. I hate you so much, because you remind me of what I hate in myself, so much. What I ran away from, what I’m too afraid to get close to ever again, a persona, a false identity I could never violently desecrate my personality for. An identity that is expected to carry the legacy of perpetuating violence—at saving face—no matter the cost.
I hate you for giving your son everything he wanted, giving him unlimited chances, saving him, and subsequently destroying him. I hate most of you, the aunties and uncles I grew up around, for teaching us how to be classist, ‘cultured’ (westernized), entitled, selfish, demanding, materialistic and violent. Most of all, I hate you for teaching us to confuse love with abuse, because your love is so conditional. Your love only serves as a mirror for your narcissism; an extension of yourselves in society.
And that, is not love. That has never been love. But people like you have created a society of young, rich, Pakistanis who hate themselves too much to use their resources productively. Instead, they are given everything they want, so why even bother?
But when your parents did the same to you, and they valued their image, status, reputation, and/or six figures (or more) of inherited wealth — how can I blame one individual for generations of silence, and subsequent violence? I blame all of you.
*
Noor, I’m sorry I got sidetracked. I’ve been sidetracked for three weeks, and I’m sorry for making a lot of this about Zahir. I’m just so angry, something that wasn’t easy for you to be, something I admired about you. Nimra misses you so much, and carries a lot of pain and self-blame — but no one could have ever expected this or seen it coming. What he did to you was unfathomable and inhumane. Iyla gave a beautiful interview, and talked about how wonderful and warm you were. Sara has been so strong, and is doing everything she can to ensure you receive the justice you deserve.
People who didn’t know you continue to feel connected to you. You have created shockwaves powerful enough for change. Your name has echoed through the streets of Pakistan, throughout the globalized world, and through traumatized female bodies that have suddenly grown more fearful than before — but this will change.
A revolution is nearby, she is cowering and afraid right now because of the cruel barbarity we have seen, but she will be breathed to life soon enough. She will keep us safe and cultivate our strength.
And her torch—our guiding light—will bear your name:
Noor.
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The way you put your emotions into words is exceptional.Seeing her pictures always give the impression of what you discribe about her. How innocent and pure her smile looks and how kind she must be that she couldnt see it coming. Thinking about her family and the trauma she endured, it makes me frightened and i cant sleep thinking about her, what would happen next, how is she going to get justice?how do i pray that she gets it? How her family will deal with this trauma? It's so heartbreaking coz i know what losing a loved one feels like, i lost my parents in a year and it has devastated me to the core, changed my personality, can't even imagine how her family is taking this brutal murder of the LIGHT OF THEIR HOME - NOOR.
You are doing such a great job, stay strong, keep highlighting the details or updates that must be shared with everyone. I hope she will be the one to bring change in this society for once and all.
May she rests in eternal peace.
More power to you and her whole family.