A Tragedy That Demands Change
In the heart of Balochistan, where the desert stretches endlessly and traditions run deep, a chilling incident has shaken the conscience of the nation. Two young individuals, Zark and Sheetal, were murdered simply because they chose to love. Their crime was not theft, violence, or betrayal. It was something far more insidious: the act of marrying by choice. In a brutal display of power, they were surrounded by a mob and executed in cold blood. Sheetal’s final words, “Only shooting is allowed,” echo as a haunting reminder of the grim reality faced by those who dare to defy societal norms.
This tragedy is not an isolated event but part of a disturbing pattern that continues to plague Pakistan. Honor killings are not rare; they are routine. The country sees between 300 to 1,000 such cases annually, though the true number is likely higher due to underreporting. These crimes often go unnoticed, hidden behind tribal councils, buried in unmarked graves, or dismissed as domestic matters. And almost always, the victims are women—women who loved, spoke up, said no, and dared to live freely.
The issue extends beyond rural areas. It reflects the suffocating grip of patriarchy that permeates every level of society. The belief that a woman’s existence is not her own, that her choices are communal property, and that her autonomy is a threat to be eradicated is deeply ingrained. This mindset must be challenged. Murder cannot be justified as a tradition or cultural practice. It is a crime that demands punishment, not celebration.
Every constitution promises the right to life, liberty, and dignity. Yet, in regions where tribal codes override national law, these rights become mere illusions. Zark and Sheetal were citizens of a country that claims to champion human rights, yet they died as if they never mattered. Their death is a reflection of a system broken at every level—from the absence of protective laws to the failure of community leaders to denounce such killings.
We live in an age where technology connects us to Mars, yet a woman still cannot choose whom to marry without facing the threat of death. We celebrate independence on national holidays, but rob it from our daughters in everyday life. If this isn’t hypocrisy, what is? If our traditions don’t protect the vulnerable, what good are they? If our silence is costing lives, what does that make us?
It is time to stop shrugging and saying, “This is how it’s always been.” That is the language of decay, not progress. Every cultural practice begins somewhere, and it can end somewhere too. No custom is too sacred to question when it results in a corpse. No value is too holy when it violates a human life. And no man’s pride is more precious than a woman’s right to live.
Justice must not only be demanded but delivered. The state must take responsibility, not just in issuing condemnations, but by making examples of those who murder in the name of honor. There must be no forgiveness, loopholes, or tribal reconciliations that end in handshakes and silence. A crime of this magnitude demands the full force of the law. Until perpetrators know they will be punished, not protected, these killings will continue unchecked.
This change must begin in our homes, in the way sons are raised and daughters are valued. Mothers must teach their boys that manhood is not control, it is character. Fathers must teach their girls that they are not burdens, they are beings. Schools must teach all children that love is not a crime, and choice is not shameful.
The role of men must shift from enforcers of control to allies in the fight for justice. They must speak up, step in, and stand beside the women who challenge these deadly norms. Because if men can kill in the name of honor, imagine if women retaliated in kind, how many men would be left alive? That is not a call for revenge. It is a call to understand the absurdity and brutality of a double standard that kills in only one direction.
To the older generation, your children do not dishonor you by choosing love. They honor life by living it fully. Let them. To the current generation, use your voice. Use your platforms. Speak louder than the guns that try to silence freedom. And to the next generation, may you inherit a country where love is not a battlefield, where your dreams are not dangerous, and where your choices do not require courage to make.
Sheetal and Zark are no longer with us. But their story must live. Not as another tragedy, but as a turning point. Let their names be written not on gravestones, but on laws, on protest banners, on school walls, on the lips of every person who believes that love is not a crime. If we let them be forgotten, we will bury not just two lives, but a chance for change.
So we ask again, how many more?
