The distinction between those wild and civil may entail simplistic divisions, a vehement snarl versus a polite hello, but what makes it more prominent is when certain days arrive with the notice of a new ‘normal’.

Two different suns rose on the dawn of June 2 in the capital city of Islamabad -one over the inhabitants of the metropolitan capital, but a different one over the house of Sana Yousuf.

It is no surprise that the much-publicised case has been doing the rounds on social media, with consumers flocking in to take full advantage of their freedom of expression.

This uninhibited string of conversation is dictated by contrasting viewpoints, ranging from the nuances of the gory assault to the speculated methodology of attack, while others choose to fixate on the

victim’s public persona, her digital presence and footprint.

While the presence of impactful discourse, led largely by young men and women on social media, should have evoked a sense of solidarity, one is left wondering whether the society is merely

offering women the opportunity to feed on the crumbs of sympathy, rather than a spread of transformation.

Swift action by the capital police in this regard comes as a much-needed solace, with the criminal having been nabbed within 20 hours of the incident. As authorities such as the Islamabad Police effectively play their role in making an example of gender-based violence, especially against women and children, are they 20 hours early-or is the society 20 decades slow? For every timely arrest, the occurrence of a crime is the precedent, and that is committed the very moment a person believes themselves to be omnipotent.

According to a prompt press conference conducted by Inspector General of Police (IGP) Syed Ali Nasir Rizvi, the successful arrest was the result of the formation of seven police teams, as the investigation encompassed analysing hundreds of social media accounts as well as CCTV footage. These are all the resources it took for the authorities to accomplish their objective. What did it take for the criminal? A mere “no”.

While Sana’s case is inevitably punctuated with the headline of justice served, it is more than a symbol of institutional triumph or statistical success, it is a symptom of societal neglect and deterioration. How resolutely must a woman exercise her agency for it to register as a loud rejection and not a demure admission?

How many glances must one feign to notice, how many hands must one not feel, and how many screams must one swallow for there to be the promise of tomorrow?

While numerous police teams worked to restore order, camera footage was scanned to reach the truth, as thousands scoured the internet for sensational details, the need for the actual investigation was felt elsewhere -- in our very homes.

The root of this search was not in surveillance rooms or news bulletins, but the conversations at dinner tables, the casual jokes, the forwarded memes, the incessant trolling and shaming, the unsolicited ‘advice’ to stay safe. Now, when parents bid goodnight to their teenage sons, the onus is on them to fulfill their end of the bargain. They must make apparent that a boundary drawn by a girl is not a challenge to be conquered, but a line to be respected.

For the vast majority, justice has not arrived in 20 hours, but dragged its feet for 20 years, and for some, it has not come at all.

According to the Sustainable Social Development Organisation (SSDO), the total number of gender-based violence cases reported countrywide in 2024 were 32,617. We may not have a name, a picture or noteworthy mention for every statistic, but we still have a room left vacant, a future not trodden and a dream never seen.

While we oscillate between the chronology of order and change, while we are left wondering if it is already too late, what is left unsaid by a 17-year-old voice is jostling our souls. As we read of misfortune befalling a “TikToker”, an “influencer”, we must manoeuvre; a girl is only a girl, a human is only a human and a life is only a life.

However, in this society, the measure of a woman is not what she says when alive, but the silence she leaves when she no longer survives.

— The writer is a former Dawn intern

Published in Dawn, June 22nd, 2025