Diary of a Social Butterfly

Diary of a Social Butterfly
Janoo is in morning. For Asma Jahangir. I haven’t seen him like this since Benazir was killed. He keeps saying, ‘who is going to watch over us now?’

I said to him, ‘You tau speak like she was your guard’. ‘She was,’ he said. ‘She guarded our freedom at the risk of her own. She’s left huge shoes to fill’. I think so his gham has ghumaoed his meter because I know Asma had bilkull doll jaisay feets, I’ve seen them with my own two eyes, but I thought kay if now I say anything while he’s in this estate he will gallay parho me so I kept quiet.

But honestly, I wasn’t a friend of hers because we didn’t move around in the same GT group but I’d seen her many times. Once I took part in a really - I think so it was for our women’s rights and I’d gone because my coffee set had gone and I didn’t want to be left out. Don’t ask me bore questions about which rights because I’ve forgotten but what I do remember is seeing her there. So I had a blow dry, brand new white trainers and huge sun glasses - Versace, I think so they were - and my sun block and there she was, this tiny woman in her old fleet boots and a half sleefed mardon vali vest over her kameez and a big silver whistle like my PT teacher at school. And she was all charged up and I asked Sunny who was with me and who knew her better, about the vest, she said ‘It’s a T-shirt. Policewomen when they beat her also try and tear her clothes off her back to do her shame shame but T-shirts are not so easy to tear. It’s like her armour.’

And I thought to myself kay if someone tried to do that to me in public I’d never come out on a really again. But there she was, small and brave and out on the streets. And I remember thinking to myself kay what guts.