KOT ADU / LAHORE: I stood in front of the jirga, bruised all over, my senses numb. I knew the only way out was to escape.
It all began on March 4 last year, when my father passed away. I resigned from Dawn News where I worked as a subeditor and decided to move to Kot Adu, Muzaffargarh, to look after property matters.
After my father’s first death anniversary, this year, I found out that Ghulam Mustafa Khar, my father’s elder brother, wanted to buy more land in Kot Adu – he had already offered my mother and brother Rs800,000 per acre for their land. They wanted me to sell the land but I refused – agriculture was my bread and butter now.
The next day, Mustafa Khar called an illegal jirga at his house to discuss family property matters. I was also informed that his eldest son, Abdur Rehman, was already touring my lands.
I panicked. The same day, I went to Kot Adu courts and met my lawyer, Sumbal Ahmed Khan, who advised me to file a petition for a stay so that the land could be divided. “This way the judge will order for the division of the land, which can be then legally divided,” he said. I nodded and accepted the suggestion.
But when I got home, Khar called me and ordered me to attend his Jirga. I was reluctant; living in Southern Punjab for one year, I had realised that no matter what, I could not publicly disagree with an elder.
Usually the best way to avoid a jirga is to disappear for a while. Therefore, I told my wife, Ayesha, “Let’s go out for a drive.” Ayesha, my two-year-old daughter and I returned after a few hours and I hoped that Khar will get the picture and not bother me again. Just as I sat down to have tea, someone pounded on my front door. But before I could answer the door, Mustafa Khar’s sons, Naeem and Mohammad Yar, let themselves in. I greeted them cordially, even offered them a cup of tea and nuggets. “Try a nugget; I have realised that eating a ‘vilayati’ (foreign) thing in a village is a lot of fun.”
Scorning at my offer, they commanded, “Vada Malik (elder Malik) is calling you.” That’s the title used for Mustafa Khar. I tried to avoid the matter, making one excuse after another. But when they didn’t budge, I candidly told him, “Vada Malik is like a father figure. I don’t want to go and stand like a serf in front of people. Please just tell him that we should discuss the matter privately.”
The sons stood there, visibly perturbed. Nevertheless, they left and I thought it was over. Just then, my daughter ran into the front lawn. With the teacup in my hand, I went out after her.
But in my front lawn were Ghulam Mustafa Khar and his four sons, infuriated and belligerent.
I greeted Khar Sahib and touched his feet, following Seraiki tradition. “Let’s go and discuss the matter inside and in private. Your sons could sit outside,” I told him. He angrily responded, “No! They are my sons and they are coming with me.”
Ayesha, who had also followed my daughter to the lawn, looked extremely worried.
We moved to the front of the house. My wife and daughter were playing in the lawn, while Khar Sahib and I sat down; his sons surrounded me.
I was still holding the cup of tea in my hand. We began our discussion over property wherein I recommended that we go through the legal route instead of involving a jirga. Mustafa Khar flatly refused. But then, I reminded him that because he was a beneficiary in the matter, he could not be a ‘munsif’.
Before I knew it, I was on the ground. “How dare you sit in front of my father and sip a cup of tea?” roared Mohammad Yar as he punched me on the head and my face. Another son seized my hands while the rest kicked me.
I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear my wife screaming and begging for mercy. “He deserves it because he has misbehaved with an elder,” Khar snarled back. “You are not an elder, you’re just a ‘goda’ (feudal),” I muttered. They only kicked harder.
The next thing I remember is someone putting me in a chokehold and dragging me towards Mustafa Khar’s house. He held his jirga, where he declared: “I am the Sardar of this land and I decide who lives here.” I retorted, “Only Allah is the Sardar of this land.”
Mohammed Yar Khar punched me again.
That was the last interaction I had. I escaped from the village later that evening. I tried registering a FIR against Mustafa Khar and his sons but the police refused and would not even provide me with police protection.
Khar and his sons were, instead, trying to register an FIR against me. But finally, the Court of the Additional Sessions Judge, Kot Adu, accepted my application for hearing under Section 22A to register an FIR against Ghulam Mustafa Khar and his sons.
Shahnawaz Khar is a former subeditor for Dawn News.
The other side: Mustafa Khar rebuffs allegations
Ghulam Mustafa Khar rejected the allegations made by Shahnawaz, but he admitted to slapping him twice. “[It was] because he misbehaved with the widow of my deceased brother (Shahnawaz’s mother),” he told The Express Tribune.
He is eating up his mother’s and brother’s share, Mustafa Khar alleged. “As the family elder, I asked him to divide the land when his mother and brother approached me.”
Bilal Khar, Ghulam Mustafa’s son, denied Shahnawaz’s claims as well. “We are not concerned about the properties of Shahnawaz or his family. The family property had been divided according to law in the life of Shahnawaz’s father,” he said.
Safina Saima, Shahnawaz’s mother, refused to comment when she was contacted by The Express Tribune.
On Shahnawaz’s complaint about the police, Sanawan Police Station SHO Chaudhary Allah Ditta Gujjar said the offence was not a cognisable one so it was not necessary to register an FIR. “He came to us on March 5, along with his family, and we issued him a medico-legal certificate and the report by the doctor at Rural Health Centre Sanawan said he needed to be kept under observation”
If the report stated that the injuries were of cognizable nature, police would have registered an FIR, he explained.
Published in The Express Tribune, March 24th, 2014.