As I enter the large premises of the Panah Shelter Home, I am struck by the high level of cleanliness. The floor is spotless, the walls painted, the beds clean, kitchen almost sanitised and, more surprisingly, the tiled bathrooms sparkling. There are about 50 battered women, some with children, from different parts of the country (mostly from Karachi), who have found refuge in what was once a dilapidated and badly neglected premises of Darul Aman, set up by the provincial government and badly run (limped would be a more appropriate word) by its officials.
The Panah Trust, registered in 2001 and initially operated on the premises of another not-for-profit organisation was, thanks to the farsightedness of some high officials in the City District Government Karachi, given the possession of the Darul Aman building in 2007. With donations from different institutions, business houses, officials, not to speak of the dedication and hard work of its trustees and other volunteers, Panah is a model institution for any NGO with the same goal in Pakistan or elsewhere.
Though billed as a public-private partnership, it runs on donations. The government doesn’t help Panah financially but, mercifully enough, does not meddle in the shelter’s affairs either. What is more, the donors are given the benefit of tax exemptions on their donations.
I interact with the women who are sitting in the large drawing room along with their children. They are all tidily dressed. The airy room is embellished with a bright Nahid Raza, painting which is a gift from the renowned artist. “Do you fight with each other quite often?” I ask them light-heartedly. “On the contrary we are sympathetic towards each other because we have all been similarly victimised,” says the chirpiest of them all.
Most of them, I learn, have been ill-treated by their husbands and often by their in-laws too. Women who are threatened of karokari or forced to marry undesirable men also take refuge at Panah. “Violence can be physical, emotional, psychological and sexual,” one of Panah’s guiding principles reads.
The premises are highly fortified and the residents are provided security not merely when they are in the building but also when they have to appear in courts. Free legal aid is given by a panel of retired judges and lawyers in matters of khula/divorce and custody of children, to mention just two major issues. A female staff member or a volunteer escorts the women when they go to the family court, in order to give them moral support.
Thanks largely to Justice (R) Majida Rizvi’s contacts the cases are decided between three to six months. It’s unheard of in a country where court cases drag on and on. By the way, the retired judge is also a member of the trust running Panah, so is the man with the never-say-die attitude, who answers to the name of Jameel Yusuf.
If someone comes to meet a resident her consent is acquired first. The visitor has to then undergo the kind of search operations you see at airports these days. Then there are cameras all over.
Back to the premises, the lawns are finely manicured and the play area for the kids is well maintained. The classroom for children is suitably furnished and the library has quite a few books. A TV set in the drawing room attracts more attention than the books, which means that the residents of Panah are no different from the rest of their countrymen.
Panah also has a fully equipped infirmary and the staff members, present round the clock, are trained to take care of minor ailments and provide first aid if needed. A doctor and a clinical psychologist visit the place every alternate day.
A founding member of the Trust, Uzma Noorani answers a number of my queries on the phone quite patiently. She says that three times a day food is prepared by the women residents for as many as 65 people. They cook not only for themselves and their kids but also for the small staff, the policemen guarding the place and the van drivers.
The drivers are present on the premises 24 hours a day, seven days a week. In the event of emergencies, they take patients to Zainab Panjwani Memorial Hospital where free treatment is provided. The vans also transport ladies who have to appear in the court. One of the vehicles was financed by Rotary Club Sunset Millennium, while the other was donated by the Edhi Foundation, which sends large quantities of meat once a week. The food served on dining tables is in keeping with the principles of health and hygiene. Vegetarians get special meals.
The management is trying to get donations to build a small annexe on the premises so that the offices can be shifted there and the area released can be gainfully used as a hostel for women who have no immediate place to go to once their cases are decided.
This leads us to the fact that even after reconciliation is worked out between a grieved woman and her aggressive husband, who promises to mend his ways, the volunteers keep a tab on their relationship. Monitoring continues for quite some time for the ultimate goal is not reconciliation but rehabilitation.
Women at Panah are also vocationally trained so that they are empowered once they go back to the outer world. The last room that I see has a number of sewing machines, on a table in one corner of the room is a PC, which is accessible to the educated among the guests staying on the premises.

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