Some stories cannot be described either through fiction or non-fiction. The inhumanity underpinning them means they have neither a language nor medium adequate to hold a mirror up to society and, so, they remain hidden in plain sight.

The barbaric practice of so-called ‘honour killings’ in Baloch society has been continuing for decades without pause, and remains a hidden story in our lives. Leaving aside other incidents, let us take the example of a tragic incident reported in 2009, when three Baloch girls in the province’s Nasirabad division were buried alive in the name of honour. The ‘punishment’ was carried out on the orders of a tribal court. The victims’ crime? Daring to attempt to marry the men of their choice. What happened to the men? Nothing.

This begs the question: what about the other cases that never even come to public knowledge?

From the same Nasirabad division, a professor friend shared with me the story of a couple yet again killed in the name of honour. According to him, the issue did not end there. Instead, it triggered a series of murders, in which the respective families chopped down members of the other as though cutting trees. In my disbelief, I thought surely this must be the plot of a thriller novel of some kind, but the professor claimed it was true.

The incidents occurring in the extremely rural Nasirabad division are just a small part of the problem. The ‘honour killing’ of girls and women is rampant in other parts of Balochistan and other areas of the country as well.

Troubled by this, budding Quetta-based novelist Safi Ullah Shahwani has recently come out with his debut novel, An Innocent Dream Bleeds. He takes a sensitive approach towards the female victims of this horrifying practice, and dedicates his book to all the oppressed women in his province in particular, and of the world at large.

Despite the shortcomings of a debuting writer, a novel from Balochistan is a worthy read, addressing the practice of ‘honour killings’ that remains largely untold

The protagonist of this slim novella is Zeenat, the fourth child of Raees and Zar Bibi. In the village of Dasht-i-Bedaulat, Zeenat is born in a mud house “in the wee hours of 1980.” After three sons, the birth of a daughter brings happiness to her family, so much so that Raees slaughters a lamb and holds a feast in celebration. The child’s laughter “now resonated in the heartthrobs of Raees, who worked in the fields the entire day and returned in the evening to get rid of [the] day’s tiredness with the magic of her giggles,” writes Shahwani. As Raees says to his wife, “Her smiles and gentle touches just relieve me of all my exhaustion.”

Traditionally in Balochistan, society for women and girls is limited to the four walls of their houses. More often than not, their future is limited to marriage. But now, they have started to emerge, primarily in pursuit of education — should they be able to afford it. In Zeenat’s unfortunate case, she has no option but to remain at home after completing her education at the local primary school, this ‘education’ being classes until the fifth grade.

The new generation in Dasht-i-Bedaulat grows up on a steady diet of Bollywood films and Zeenat is an avid fan; her favourites are Ajay Devgn’s Diljale and Shah Rukh Khan’s Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. But films aside, the inspiration for Zeenat’s “innocent dream” comes from her own life: her teacher is happily married to a loving and caring husband who — to the stupefaction of many — is a man she chose herself. This ‘anomaly’ is enhanced by the contrasting story of Afshan, a girl in Zeenat’s village who had been brutally murdered by the husband chosen for her by others.

In another subplot, young Zeenat comes to know of the death of a Lori — a member of a community belonging to the lower strata of Baloch society — at a time when “she had little to no idea about the concept of death.” The man, Dilbar, is killed by his brothers and cousins under the pretext of ‘honour’, when the actual reason is that he has become rich as a star drummer in his community. To make it an issue of honour, Dilbar’s mother-in-law is accused of being his paramour and killed as well.

In a predominantly patriarchal society such as Balochistan’s, women have little to zero control over their lives and, as soon as Zeenat turns 16, her parents begin to plan her marriage. However, unbeknownst to them, Zeenat has fallen in love with Azeem. In a bold move, she sends Azeem a love letter, sparking a romance that is carried out clandestinely through telephone conversations. It is the era before mobile phones, so communication must be carried out at great risk via landlines.

As Raees mulls over prospective husbands for his daughter, his wife Zar Bibi ventures to suggest Azeem. He is, after all, Zeenat’s paternal cousin. Raees, however, hushes her. Zar Bibi’s suggestion is not worth considering because her husband believes “[w]omen have their brains placed in their ankles.”

After having worked as a reporter for quite some time, Shahwani joined government service as a population officer, but his journalistic experience stands him in good stead as a writer; in the course of his story, he is able to explain how, in Balochistan, some people were able to become Meers [notables] overnight, and “were empowered and given money.” This engineering of class divisions with support from authority figures, at the cost of society’s norms and morals, is strengthened as the Meers develop a network of marital alliances to consolidate their position.

Raees, too, has become a Meer, rising from his former position as a farmer and so wants his daughter to be married to the son of his friend — another overnight Meer. But Zeenat’s little dream of spending her life with the man of her choice is an obstruction to Raees’s own dreams of possessing power and clout, since his brother — Azeem’s father — remains a poor farmer. Seeing no way out, Zeenat and Azeem elope and the girl’s happy fantasies turn into a nightmare.

Understandably for a debut novelist, some shortcomings are evident in Shahwani’s writing. One is his penchant for bringing in new developments out of nowhere, diverting readers’ attention at a time when it would have been better to remain with the flow of the story. Then there are some inconsistencies, such as how the nomadic life of Zeenat’s family suddenly becomes a settled life.

The author abruptly replaces caravans with mud houses, and provides electricity to the village along with a primary school. Later on, it transpires that the houses have landline telephones. It is generally perceived that a far-flung village such as Dasht-i-Bedaulat would not have such amenities, which were often a struggle for even city dwellers to acquire during the era in which the novel is set. A little explanation would have, therefore, been welcome.

However, An Innocent Dream Bleeds is a worthy read. If you want to support Shahwani, do buy his novel to read how he brings Zeenat’s story to an end. He could well become tomorrow’s Omar Shahid Hamid.

The reviewer is a member of staff. He tweets @Akbar_notezai

An Innocent Dream Bleeds
By Safi Ullah Shahwani
Daastan, Islamabad
ISBN: 978-9696965275
102pp.

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, August 8th, 2021