Hindu Sisters End Lives As Parents Oppose Love Affair with Muslim Brothers in Trichy
New Age Islam
News Bureau
08
June 2023
• Hindu Sisters End Lives As Parents Oppose Love Affair with Muslim
Brothers in Trichy
• Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department’s First Female Muslim Pakistani
Officer
• SherriceShatanya Williams St. Paul Woman Charged With Vandalizing
Mosque, Warrant Issued
• Police to Crack Down on "Norm-Breaking" Women on Beaches
• ‘Poor People Don’t Have Friends’: A Pakistani Widow’s Life
URL: https://newageislam.com/islam-women-feminism/hindu-muslim-love-jihad/d/129948
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Hindu Sisters End
Lives As Parents Oppose Love Affair with Muslim Brothers in Trichy
The
bodies of Vidhya and Gayathri were found floating in a well in the village.
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Jun 7, 2023
TRICHY: Two sisters
who fell in love with two brothers at their work place died by suicide at
Valanadu in Trichy on Tuesday after their parents opposed their love affair as
the men were Muslims. The bodies of P Gayathri, 23, and P Vidhya, 21, natives
of Ayanpudhupatti village in Marungapuritaluk, were found floating in a well.
The women were
working in a textile mill at Kangeyam in Tirupur district for a few years when
they fell in love with the brothers who were employees there. On coming to know
about it, their father Pitchai and their mother opposed it. The sisters had
come to their native place to participate in the annual festival of their
village temple which began a few days ago.
On Monday, the two
were seen talking on their mobile phones separately. Sensing that their
daughters were still continuing their love affairs, their parents reiterated
their stand and asked them to stop talking to them.
On Tuesday,
Gayathri and Vidhya left home around 7.30 am. As they did not return after several
hours, their parents and relatives searched for them. They found their mobile
phones near an agriculture well about 400 metres away from home. When they
checked the well, the bodies of the siblings were found floating on it. Fire
and rescue services personnel who were called in fished out the bodies which
Thuvarankurichi police sent to Manapparai government hospital for post-mortem.
“One of the girls
had written her name on her palm while the other woman had written their
younger brother’s mobile number in her palm to help their family members
identify their bodies,” inspector P Shanmugasundaram told TOI.
He said the women
had sent a voice message to the mother of their lovers about their decision to
end their lives by jumping into a well in Kangeyam.
“According to the
family members of the victims, there was no altercation or scuffle with regard
to their love affairs. However, after confirming that their parents will never
allow them to marry their lovers, they had taken the decision,” the inspector added.
Police have booked a case under section 174 of IPC.
Source: timesofindia.indiatimes.com
https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/trichy/sisters-end-lives-as-parents-oppose-love-affair-with-muslim-brothers-in-trichy/articleshow/100808102.cms
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Las Vegas
Metropolitan Police Department’sFirst Female Muslim Pakistani Officer
49-year-old
Farhat Mir is the department's first female Muslim Pakistani officer
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Thu, June 8th 2023
LAS VEGAS (KSNV) —
A Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department officer is breaking down barriers.
49-year-old Farhat
Mir is the department's first female Muslim Pakistani officer.
She moved to the
United States two years after 911.
Now Mir is using
her life experience and perspective to help combat terrorism in Las Vegas, and
it begins by building relationships.
"Hi
Rabbi," says Mir as she walks into Chabad of Summerlin. "How are you?
How is everything?"
The synagogue is a
regular stop for the 8-year veteran of the force, building bridges within the
religious community.
"I knock on
every single door. It doesn't matter if it's a synagogue, mosque, temple,
Buddhist temple, Sikh temple, church," says Mir. "No matter what it
is, if it's a faith-based organization, I knock on the door. And I keep
knocking till they open and build that relationship with me."
Mir works in
LVMPD's Fusion Center, helping the department recognize and stop potential
attacks on our community, including so-called soft targets.
"Unfortunately,
the day we are living in, faith-based organizations are easy targets because
their doors are open to everybody," she explains.
Fusion Centers were
created across the nation in response to Sept. 11, 2001, bringing together
federal, state, and local intelligence systems to share information.
"Our ultimate
goal is to create vigilance," says Sgt. Bryce Martines, the Fusion
Management Team Supervisor. "One of the great things about Officer Mir is
she has a lot of life experience that we can't connect with here in the United
States. Things we take for granted."
"I speak three
languages," says Mir. "I can read four but speak three."
But Mir says if her
career choice is unusual for a Muslim Pakistani woman, she's not finished
surprising people.
Entering the
upcoming Mrs. Nevada pageant, set to crown a queen on June 18 in Las Vegas.
"I'm here to
crack the walls that separate people and their thinking," says Mir.
"And I want to open the horizon for females from my background. Southeast
Asia, Middle East, Muslim females. Being part of a pageant for Muslim women is
not normal. They hesitate; they don't take part in pageants."
Still, she says
it's not about winning. It's about doing, just like graduating from a grueling
police academy at age 42.
"I never
worked here in the United States. I had no education from here at that
time," says Mir. "Now I have a Bachelor of Science degree from
here."
And she has
something else, the trust of many in the religious community, including Rabbi
ChaimOzer Metal.
"Once we met a
couple of years back, I was like, Pakistan? That's interesting. Let's see how
this is going to turn out," says Rabbi Metal.
And it turned out
to be something special—a lasting friendship.
"When it came
to Officer Mir, it was constantly engaged, constantly asking how we're
doing," he explains. "Even though she moved from the Northwest to
Summerlin to headquarters, she was always there. Interacting, making sure we're
ok."
Mir has a
commitment to people and protecting the safety of an entire valley by taking
the time to listen, learn and care.
"It's a
two-way relationship," says Officer Mir. "Together, we are strong. We
can make this community safer when we are together."
The statement
"SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING" still applies.
LVMPD relies on the
community to call in tips about activity that could lead to mass casualties.
The hotline number
for the Fusion Center is (702) 828-7777.
Source: news3lv.com
https://news3lv.com/news/local/meet-las-vegas-metropolitan-police-departments-first-female-muslim-pakistani-officer-farhat-mir
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SherriceShatanya
Williams St. Paul Woman Charged With Vandalizing Mosque, Warrant Issued
JUNE 7, 2023
Officers responded
to the Masjid Al Sunnah mosque, at 373 Pedersen St. in St. Paul, after security
footage captured a person picking up a large rock and throwing it at the front
doors four times.
A 45-year-old St.
Paul woman has been charged with breaking the glass door of a mosque last
month, and a warrant has been issued for her arrest.
SherriceShatanya
Williams was charged with felony first-degree damage to property for allegedly
vandalizing the Masjid Al Sunnah mosque May 12 in St. Paul.
Officers responded
to the mosque at 373 Pedersen after security footage recorded a person throwing
a large rock at the building's front doors four times.
The incident took
place just after 7 a.m.
An anonymous
tipster told police the woman was named "Shanice," and officers
recognized her as Williams, according to a criminal complaint.
The complaint said
Williams' physical description matches that of the woman on the surveillance
footage. She was not in custody as of Wednesday evening.
The mosque's imam
estimated repair costs to be around $1,755.
A spokesman for the
Ramsey County Attorney's Office declined to provide additional details on the
case or possible motivations.
The vandalism came
amid a surge in attacks on mosques in the Twin Cities.
Two were allegedly
committed by Jackie Rahm Little, 36, who was arrested last month. He faces
arson charges in connection with fires at two Minneapolis mosques April 23-24,
including one where 40 children were in a basement day-care program.
After the
Minneapolis fires, a person started a fire May 17 inside the Tawhid Islamic
Center at 430 Dale St. N. in St. Paul. Police arrested Said Murekezi, 42, and
he has been charged with second-degree arson, second-degree burglary and
possession of methamphetamine in connection with the incident.
Source: startribune.com
https://www.startribune.com/mosque-vandalized-warrant-for-st-paul-woman-breaking-door/600280983/?refresh=true
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Police to Crack
Down on "Norm-Breaking" Women on Beaches
JUNE 8, 2023
In a continued
tightening of supervision of the Islamic Republic’s strict dress code ahead of
the summer season, the commander of Iran's police force has announced that
electronic surveillance systems will be used to identify
"norm-breaking" women who flout mandatory hijab rules on the beaches.
State media
reported on May 8 that commanderAhmadrezaRadan urged the governors of coastal
provinces to intensify efforts to tackle “abnormalities” on the beaches.
Radan defended
mandatory hijab, claiming that it upholds Islamic social norms and societal
well-being.
Meanwhile, the
deputy police officer of Mazandaran announced the implementation of a plan to
“improve social security” in the parks and promenades across the Caspian
province.
Within 72 hours,
265 warnings have been issued to violators of hijab regulations and individuals
walking dogs, he said.
All women in Iran
must conceal their hair with a headscarf and wear loose fitting trousers under
their coats while in public.
But a growing
number of women have appeared in public without hijab following months of
unrest sparked by the September death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini while in
police custody. Amini had been detained allegedly wearing a head covering
improperly.
Some defiant women
were arrested, summoned by the authorities and faced legal cases, while
hundreds of small businesses and shopping malls were shut down for allegedly
failing to enforce hijab rules on their customers. Taxi drivers have been fined
for transporting women without headscarves, while police and volunteers have
issued warnings in subways, airports and other public places.
Source: iranwire.com
https://iranwire.com/en/news/117326-police-to-crack-down-on-norm-breaking-women-on-beaches/
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‘Poor people don’t
have friends’: A Pakistani widow’s life
8 Jun 2023
Bhatial, Pakistan –
It is 8am on a bright February morning, and Zubeida Begum is walking through
the narrow lanes of Bhatial, a quiet rural village of about 2,000 people in the
Jhelum district of Punjab, Pakistan.
The 42-year-old widow
wears a large cotton dupatta, or shawl, draped over her head and shoulders as
she walks past modest bungalows – most the same sandy brown colour as the
earth, others painted blue or orange – and the occasional villa. These large,
two- or three-storey villas stand behind gates and walls. Some have colourful
mosaic tile work and black iron balconies, courtyards with palm trees or pruned
gardens lined with jasmine and bougainvillea.
About 20 years ago,
when Zubeida was a young mother with five children under the age of eight, she
started working for a couple in their late 60s. They had moved from Bhatial to
England in the late 1950s, a time when economic migrants were invited to
rebuild the country’s post-war economy. After they retired in the early 2000s,
they would return to the villa they built in Bhatial – one of several
constructed by families who immigrated abroad – once a year for a few weeks
during the winter. When they were there, Zubeida would work as domestic help
for them – dusting, cooking, doing the laundry and washing up. The couple cared
for her like a daughter, she says. Then, a little over a decade ago, they died.
Now, their
children, who are in their 60s and early 70s and spend most of the year in the
UK, own three imposing villas in the village, all constructed from imported
marble and local bricks. Like their parents before them, they return in the
winter, but their houses lay vacant for most of the year.
Zubeida cleans the
three homes once a week – each on a different day. The closest is just five
minutes away and the farthest, about 15.
“I go to these
empty houses and sweep them from top to bottom using a jharhoo [a traditional
brush made of dried grass] as it’s best for sweeping away dust,” she says. “I
make sure everything is in order and then return to my own home.”
The quiet villas
give her comfort in their solitude and stability, as solid structures anchored
in the land, but they also sometimes make her think of a different life.
During the year,
families of house sparrows and sometimes squirrels build homes in the crevices
of these villas.
“Sometimes I look
at these birds flying, and I think they don’t ever have to worry about money or
worldly problems,” Zubeida reflects. “The world is theirs, and they can make
anywhere their home.”
Zubeida’s own life
is marked by uncertainty. She does not know where her home will be in the years
to come because her eldest son’s family has largely taken over the house where
she and her husband raised their children. As a widow, she worries about money,
increasingly so as her health gets worse and the few basics she buys become
harder to afford.
‘I salute them’
If I spot a family
of birds, I won’t disturb them,” Zubeida says.
“If they’ve managed
to find a safe space to build their home in the corners of these empty castles,
then I salute them,” she says. “After all, they live in these homes for much
longer than the returning families ever do.”
A few days before
the owners return, they will call Zubeida on her mobile phone to let her know
they are coming. Then, she’ll do her usual sweep but will also dust the
furniture, wash the linen by hand, make the beds and clean the bathrooms. That
is when the birds must be moved along.
It is difficult for
her to disturb the animals she has watched build their homes over the course of
the year, so she carefully places the nests outside and then opens the windows
and doors to try to encourage them to leave.
“This is harder
than the physical work, but then I think, at least they were able to stay in
the house for most of the year, and I know they will be back,” she says.
Sometimes her
employers who flit between countries and cultures “remind me of migrating
birds”, she comments, squinting in the sunlight.
When the families –
usually the older owners with a daughter-in-law and grandchildren too young to
go to school – return for two months in the winter, Zubeida works seven days a
week for four to 12 hours a day.
She dusts, makes
breakfasts of fried eggs or omelettes with paratha, freshly squeezed orange
juice and chai, washes the dishes and then starts on the next meal. For lunch,
she will often cook a vegetarian curry, a meat dish like kebabs and make fresh
chappatis. In the afternoons, she buys any provisions that are needed and then
returns to do the washing up.
“Because the
families are visiting, they receive lots of visitors, so a big part of my work
then becomes making potfuls of tea and serving them snacks,” Zubeida says,
describing the samosas and pizzas she makes.
As she speaks,
Zubeida walks slowly and carefully, never making sudden movements that could
draw attention to herself. As a widow, she is wary of people and worries that
her fellow villagers gossip about her, so she tries to be as inconspicuous as
possible.
Widowhood
Every morning,
Zubeida is woken at daybreak by a crowing rooster and a braying donkey that
belong to her neighbours. “We can’t afford livestock of our own,” explains
Zubeida, who lives with her youngest son, 21-year-old Zaghum.
Her comment catches
the attention of an older man carrying firewood, and he stops to remind her
that she did once own an animal – a cow, given to her and her husband, Khalil
Ahmed, by one of the three families she works for.
Zubeida had
forgotten. Her ownership had been short-lived, maybe a year, she recalls. She
was forced to sell it in early 2017 when Khalil fell sick, and she needed to
pay for his medical bills. She stayed by his bedside at the government hospital
for three months. But Khalil did not make it. Zubeida still doesn’t know what
the illness was that killed him.
She doesn’t often
get the opportunity to talk about her late husband. They married young, she
says, twisting the fabric of her navy dupatta and breaking into a rare smile.
When Zubeida was
five years old, her mother died in childbirth. Her father remarried, but
Zubeida’s stepmother beat her. Then, when she was seven years old, her
stepmother made her stop going to school, so she could stay at home to cook and
clean. Zubeida describes her marriage to her paternal cousin when she was 14
years old as a welcome escape from her childhood home. Khalil was 16. A year
later, she gave birth to their first child, a daughter.
Khalil worked as a
mistry, or labourer, on building sites and took on odd jobs as a handyman,
gardener or baking bricks, working in one of the many kilns operating across
Punjab. “My husband was hardworking. He would always find some way to earn a
wage and look after us all,” Zubeida recalls.
When she was 25,
Zubeida began to look for work and was introduced to the soon-to-be-retired
couple by a neighbour. She took care of the woman, a kindly mother figure to
Zubeida, and helped her take her medicine and navigate the marble house as she
aged. “I would have done anything for her,” she says, her eyes welling up.
With her earnings,
Zubeida and Khalil were slowly able to save and build a house of their own.
She would give cash
to her husband to save in a committee – a traditional method of saving in which
members deposit a set amount each month and one member receives the entire sum
every rotation. Khalil built two rooms, a small kitchen, a pantry and a bathroom
out of mud, then strengthened the house with cement.
‘They believe I’m
bad news’
Khalil’s death
brought on the financial worries that always linger at the back of Zubeida’s
mind. But as a widow in her small village, she also faces the whispers of its residents,
the stares of men and is avoided by families with girls.
“People stay away
from me because I’m bewa [without husband],” she explains. “They believe I’m
bad news, cursed in a way. The families from England don’t care, but here they
do. They have a saying, ‘Havankokaagihai [She’s eaten her husband.]’”
“I have to be very
careful – who I speak to, how I speak to them. What time I come home, what
roads I take,” Zubeida adds. “Women have always had to do this, but when you’re
a widow, there’s an assumption that you must want another man.”
When the families
visit and their guests stay late, she is required to work late, serving food
and drinks and cleaning up afterwards. “I won’t walk home alone at night,” she
says. Instead, she calls Zaghum to pick her up on his motorbike.
While walking along
Bhatial’s unpaved side roads, Zubeida sucks on her cotton dupatta, which
protects her from the dust and the stares of men.
“As a widow, I feel
no respect and that people don’t care. I’m not sure what it’s like outside
Pakistan,” she says.
“The more you are
made to feel like you are a curse, the more you start believing it,” she
reflects.
Poverty extends
after death
The work that
Zubeida does for the families is the only job she has ever known. She believes
that as a widow, she would struggle to find work elsewhere – not that she would
want to.
Her salary of 5,000
Pakistani rupees ($17) a month – which goes up to 30,000 rupees ($100) when the
families return – and that of Zaghum, who earns 14,000 rupees ($49) from making
tea at a real estate agency, only just cover their household costs. Despite
this, Zubeida’s employers have always provided for her. She is confident that
they will continue to – even in her old age – since she cared for their mother.
The families paid
for her two daughters’ wedding expenses. They buy her clothes and appliances
like a refrigerator and whatever else she may need although her needs are few
and she lives frugally. She eats two meals a day – a paratha and maybe eggs for
breakfast and aloomatar (potato and peas) or aubergine for dinner – and feels
it is wasteful to spend money on herself. “I’ve never bought myself clothes or
shoes,” she says.
She never asks for
anything, and when her husband died, the burial was free, but a tombstone was not.
She did not want to ask for help to pay for it.
Khalil was buried
in an unmarked grave among engraved marble headstones in the village cemetery.
“Everything costs money, even death,” she explains. “He didn’t want one
anyway,” she adds quietly, referring to the tombstone that she could not
afford. “But if I could, I would like something simple, just to say his name.”
Zubeida visits her
husband’s grave every month to find peace, she says, and to share her hardships
and triumphs.
She stops in the
soft morning sun to remove some gravel from her worn-out flip-flops – one of
two pairs of shoes that she owns.
Zubeida points to
the acacia and rosewood trees lining the road she is walking along. “This,” she
says, referring to the chirping birds in the trees, “is free to enjoy. Their
songs make me happy, and I could listen to their conversations all day.”
‘Poor people don’t
have friends’
After Khalil died,
her eldest son, who works as a labourer, and his wife and child moved into
Zubeida’s two-room home. She and Zaghum were pushed into a corner and now have
only the pantry, where dry goods like lentils used to be stored.
The pantry has
enough room for two mattresses. It is warm in the winter and stifling hot in
the summer, but they can’t sleep in the courtyard because of the mosquitos.
They have limited
interaction with the eldest son and his family despite living in the same
house. Her middle son works in a hotel in Dubai and sends money home to his
wife and child, who live in the daughter-in-law’s village in Pakistani-administered
Kashmir. Neither son supports Zubeida and Zaghum. Zubeida rarely sees her
daughters, who live in neighbouring villages, one about a 30-minute walk away,
and are busy with their own families.
She is closest to
Zaghum, who has been at the property company for a year now. “[He] is hoping
it’s a way into the property business,” she says.
Despite being
careful with money, Zubeida has felt the pinch over the past year when it comes
to the food she can afford to cook for the two of them.
She used to prepare
her youngest son’s favourite meal, lamb pilau, once a month, but with the cost
of food going up, she can only do so once every two or three months. She can no
longer afford her own favourite food, daal. When the families visit, she
sometimes brings home leftover fruit or biscuits, which she would never buy
herself.
She doesn’t have
friends over, laughing at the thought.
“Don’t you know,
poor people don’t have friends,” she says.
‘We’d never leave
them empty’
These days,
Zubeida’s health has become a concern. She has diabetes and must check her
blood sugar levels each week at a clinic in the city of Jhelum. But with the
price of motorised rickshaws tripling in the past 18 months, she has to wait
until Zaghum is free to take her on his motorbike. Since a hysterectomy six
years ago, she also has backaches and lower abdominal pain, she says, and
simple tasks like sweeping now bring on a feeling of heaviness and at times,
discomfort.
More recently, her
right shoulder has been hurting.
“There’s a gap they’ve
[her doctors] found there, and they say it’s from the sweeping and hard labour
I do, … but I don’t know how to do anything else. This is my only form of
income.”
She worries that,
as a widow, if she had to find work elsewhere, she could be beaten or sexually
abused by her new employers.
But she is also
unsure about how much longer she can continue to work. “I’m not as strong as I
was, even 10 years ago,” she confides, rubbing her lower back.
She has invested
all her hopes in Zaghum.
“Today he’s a tea boy
at the property company, but soon, he’ll move to the office, inshallah,” she
says as she reaches the dirt road by the iron gate of the villa she will sweep
today.
Guava and orange
trees dot the grounds and balconies bulge from the second floor. The outside
walls of the house are covered in grey, blue and mustard tiles.
“Then maybe,” she
says with a wistful look, “we’ll be able to buy one of these fancy homes too.
The difference is, we’d never leave them empty.”
Source: aljazeera.com
https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2023/6/8/poor-people-dont-have-friends-a-pakistani-widows-life
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URL: https://newageislam.com/islam-women-feminism/hindu-muslim-love-jihad/d/129948