Pindi courts swamped with divorce cases
The cases of divorce and separation in the Rawalpindi district witnessed a record increase in the family courts last year, indicating the collapse of family marriages.
Up to 47 Christian women and girls also took the liberty of the amendments in the Christian marriage divorce law and obtained divorces last year.
Since January 1 this year, a total of 3,207 women have obtained a divorce on the grounds of Khula, 431 girls ran away from their homes with the help of social media friends and got married, 380 women were reunited with their children, 67 women who left their husbands' homes to live with their parents were issued orders to resettle, while 3,319 men were ordered to pay compensations to wives and kids. Courts also ordered to return dowry to 124 women and 195 women to return Haq Mehar.
At present, 11,994 cases of divorce, separation, right of dower, return of goods and handover of children are under hearing in 20 family courts of the Rawalpindi district. All family courts have started giving dates in these cases in January and February 2025 instead of December 2024.
The rate of Christian divorce cases was five to 10 cases a year, but after the relaxation in the prevailing Christian law, Christian girls have a right to seek divorce and started approaching family courts for divorce.
It is found that love marriages linked to friendships on social media platforms like TikTok, WhatsApp, Messenger, YouTube, Instagram and Facebook have witnessed an increase.
A good number of women and girls, who sought divorce this year, were those who got influenced by social media contacts, ran away from their homes and got married.
Such marriages are based on falsehood, fraud and lies. Due to the overload of family cases, each family court hears 40 to 50 family cases daily. Each family judge has 300 to 400 family cases. Due to the continuous increase in family cases, the number of family judges needs to be increased.
Former District Bar Secretary and HRA Secretary General, Tayyaba Abbasi Advocate says marriages associated with social media friendship are destroying the family system.
In such marriages, the families of both the girls and boys also add fuel to the fire, she says and suggests girls do such marriages thoughtfully with parental support.
District Bar Association President Intizar Mehdi Shah is of the view that there is a lot of awareness, but families move courts with matrimonial disputes.
He suggests to reduce the divorce rate and family cases, there should be a strong mediation council at the UC level, which should include a respectable person of the area as a magistrate, who will understand the parties in family cases and make them agree to reconciliation.
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Express Tribune
2 days ago
- Express Tribune
From hymn books to hashtags
In the region of Pakistani Punjab, particularly in urban centre's such as Lahore, Sialkot, Sheikhupura, and Faisalabad, Christian hymnody has undergone a transformative process, emerging as a hybrid and multilingual artistic expression. This music serves as a mediator of memory, power, and resistance, reflecting the interplay of historical, linguistic, and technological shifts. Originating from 19th-century colonial missions, this music has undergone a metamorphosis, bearing the imprints of British religious structures, vernacular adaptations, and the advent of digital expression. In contemporary Pakistan, worship music transcends its traditional role of accompanying liturgy. It assumes the roles of theological witness, cultural repository, and political voice. Drawing upon Homi K. Bhabha's concept of 'Third Space,' theories of cultural memory, liturgical inculturation, and the burgeoning field of sonic theology, this article delves into the ongoing renegotiation of identity and place by Punjabi church music. From the rendition of Psalms in ragas to the creation of Instagram worship videos, this music has consistently reimagined its boundaries and positioned itself within a broader cultural context. Following the British annexation of 1849, missionaries from Presbyterian, Anglican, and Methodist denominations commenced arriving in Punjab. Initially, prominent centre's of mission activity were established in Ludhiana, Jalandhar, and Sialkot, where English hymnals and pipe organs were introduced into educational institutions and religious settings. By 1854, Ludhiana had emerged as a hub for Bible translation efforts, overseen by the American Presbyterian Mission. These missionaries introduced a European musical landscape characterised by rigid hymn structure, translated liturgy, and choral singing. Additionally, they introduced the harmonium, a portable reed organ manufactured in France, which became an integral component of worship. The harmonium's entry into India was facilitated by military regiments and Christian missionaries, initially appearing in northern cities such as Jalandhar and Ludhiana. Over time, it gained widespread popularity within rural Christian congregations due to its portability, affordability, and harmonious compatibility with Indian musical traditions. By the early 20th century, it had become an indispensable instrument not only for churches but also for Sikh, Hindu, and Sufi musical practices, often supplanting more delicate stringed instruments such as the sarangi and dilruba. This indigenization constituted a subtle act of cultural negotiation: the European instrument that once symbolised colonial distinction became a shared devotional medium across religious affiliations. In 1904, the establishment of the Sialkot Convention further accelerated vernacular expression in worship. Organised by a coalition of foreign missionaries and local Protestant leaders, the Convention quickly became the most significant revivalist Christian gathering in colonial Punjab. Held annually in Sialkot, it featured preaching, collective Psalm singing, and teaching sessions in both Urdu and Punjabi. The Convention served as a liturgical counterpoint to Western ecclesiastical formalism, empowering Christians to explore faith in familiar languages and sounds. After Partition, it continued to shape Pakistani Protestant identity, embedding musical memory into spiritual revival. A pivotal moment in the creation of contextualised church music emerged from the work of Rev. Imam-ud-Din Shahbaz (1845–1921). A former Muslim convert and linguistic prodigy, Shahbaz rendered the entire Book of Psalms (Zaboor) into lyrical Punjabi verse between 1888 and 1905. These translations were composed in many ragas like kafi, pahari and bhairavi, melodic modes employed in Punjabi folk, Sufi, and classical traditions. Shahbaz's Psalms transcended the role of mere theological texts; they were poetry imbued with rhyme, rhythm, and call-and-response structure. In the kafi tradition accompanied by a harmonium, these Psalms resonated not only with Christians but also with the broader village soundscape. According to mission records from that era, villagers, including Muslims and Sikhs, were drawn to Shahbaz's compositions. In Bhabha's terminology, Shahbaz had established a Third Space: he reinterpreted colonial Scripture by integrating it into the core of Punjabi musical culture. Even after Punjabi became the dominant language in the liturgical sphere, Urdu retained its position as the primary language of worship, particularly in urban settings. As the lingua franca of colonial administration and post-partition national discourse, Urdu facilitated the gathering of worshippers from diverse regions and dialects in a unified liturgy. Its theological versatility also contributed to fostering interfaith familiarity. Words such as 'Allah' (God), 'Ruh-ul-Quddus' (Holy Spirit), and 'Masih' (Messiah) are shared across Islamic and Christian traditions, despite their divergent meanings. According to liturgical scholars, Urdu provided a rich repository of poetic devices, drawing upon Arabic, Persian, and Turkic traditions. Hymns and Psalms composed in Urdu were frequently set to musaddas (six-line) or ghazal-style meters and accompanied by tabla-driven ragas. This fusion of scriptural depth and lyrical intimacy rendered Urdu hymns both accessible and spiritually resonant. In the 1960s and 1970s, a second wave of vernacular creativity emerged, particularly within the Catholic Church. Inspired by the emphasis on liturgical inculturation outlined by Vatican II, missionaries in Pakistan embarked on the creation of Urdu-language hymnals that seamlessly integrated local musical traditions. Father Liberius Pieterse, a Dutch Franciscan stationed in Multan, published 'Hamd-Ullah' in 1955 and later co-edited 'Naya Geet Gao (Sing a New Song)' with poet Ghulam Masih Felix in 1972. Parallelly, figures such as Father Exo-Pierre and Father Laborious Azad composed settings of the Kyrie and Gloria in Urdu, employing raag bhairavi phrasing and tabla rhythms. These hymns introduced melodic scales and rhythms that resonated deeply with the Pakistani audience, transforming the auditory experience of Mass and imbuing it with both sacredness and familiarity. 'Naya Geet Gao' swiftly transcended denominational boundaries, finding resonance with Protestant choirs as well. Its triumph underscored the transformative power of inculturated hymnody in uniting Pakistan's fragmented Christian communities and conferring musical and theological significance upon worship. While church music shared many characteristics with Sufi qawwalis and Hindu bhajans, such as harmonium accompaniment, tabla rhythms, and poetic metaphors, it retained a distinct theological structure. Church hymns typically followed SATB (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) harmonies or unison singing with call-and-response sections. In contrast, qawwalis relied on solo improvisation, and bhajans on antiphonal chants. Terminologically, church hymns emphasised concepts like 'Yesu,' 'Najat,' and 'Salib,' while qawwalis focused on 'Nabi,' 'Wahdat,' and 'Ishq-e-Haqiqi.' It is also noteworthy that the call-and-response form in Christian music carries deeper psychological implications. This participatory structure has historically empowered congregants, particularly in rural and marginalised communities, to engage with Scripture not as passive listeners but as co-creators of worship. This is one reason why even today, the performance of the Zaboor continues to play a central role in village churches and revival meetings. Music, in these settings, becomes both a method of instruction and a mode of emotional healing. From 2010 onward, Pakistani church music entered the algorithmic era. YouTube channels such as Hallelujah Band and Zaboor Studios commenced producing professionally recorded Urdu and Punjabi worship videos. These were often structured in the musical language of Hillsong-style global worship: guitar-driven praise, layered harmonies, and emotionally charged choruses. However, unlike global megachurch music, these productions retained tabla, dholak, and folk instrumentation. One of Hallelujah Band's most viewed tracks, 'Rab Janay,' commences with a bhangra beat and transitions into an English hook: 'You know my heart.' This musical code-switching reflects a broader diasporic sensibility: young Christians singing to both God and algorithm, to both local community and global audience. Church music has long served as a form of spiritual resistance in Pakistan. Following the 2013 bombing at All Saints Church in Peshawar, mourners gathered amidst the rubble to sing Psalm 23 in Urdu. The footage, captured on mobile phones, gained widespread attention and became a symbol of national unity. In 2015, when suicide bombers targeted Catholic and Protestant churches in Lahore's Yohannaabad neighbourhood, youth choirs responded by singing through the streets, demonstrating their resilience and determination. In response to the Joseph Colony arson in 2013, which resulted in the destruction of over 150 homes, churches held overnight Zaboor recitations using harmoniums and candles. Following the Jaranwala church burnings in 2023, where 26 churches were torched, worshippers returned to sing Psalm 91 amidst the ashes, invoking divine protection. In Sargodha in 2024, after a mob attack on a Christian household, survivors gathered in homes to chant Zaboor in whispers, resisting erasure through sacred sound. Theologians and musicians argue that these acts exemplify monumental memory: the preservation of suffering and hope through sound. Church music not only commemorates trauma but also reclaims space. In a sonic-theological perspective, lament transforms into protest through praise. Simultaneously, in the diaspora, from Toronto and Dubai to Birmingham and Melbourne, Punjabi Christians continue to practice their faith in three languages, spanning across four time zones. Diaspora churches harmoniously blend Shahbaz's Punjabi Psalms with Hillsong choruses, disseminate Sunday services on platforms such as Facebook and Instagram, and creatively remix Naya Geet Gao classics into electronic dance music (EDM) sets for youth conferences. This transnational musical fusion transcends geographical boundaries, fostering a vibrant and postcolonial liturgical community that is both multilingual and distinctly alive. Numerous Pakistani renowned musicians, including S.B. John, Saleem Raza, and A. Nayyar, initially received training in church choirs. Their contributions to Lollywood film music incorporated elements of gospel phrasing, harmonic layering, and spiritual lyricism. Presently, programmes like Coke Studio Pakistan continue this crossover legacy. For instance, Hadia Hashmi's rendition of 'Bol Hu' draws upon Christian vocal stylings and melodic structures prevalent in Urdu worship. In Pakistani Punjab, church music serves not merely as a liturgical embellishment. It constitutes a space where colonial form intersects with local expression, where Scripture is sung in folk metre, and where faith persists despite adversity. Whether through kirtan-like harmonium chants or digital mashups incorporating English refrains, this music embodies a theology that undergoes constant reimagination through resistance, sound, and community. Church music plays a pivotal role in interfaith dialogue and public memory. In various regions of Punjab, Christian worship groups are invited to perform at civic festivals or university gatherings, particularly during Christmas or interfaith harmony week. These performances, often delivered in Punjabi and Urdu, underscore the shared aesthetic and emotional language of religious music across Pakistan's diverse communities. When Zaboor is performed in a setting that also includes Sufi qawwalis or Sikh shabads, it not only demonstrates musical convergence but also fosters mutual respect. In such moments, sacred sound becomes a connecting bridge between traditions through emotion, narrative, and reverence. Another aspect worthy of note is the role of female voices in church music, which is often underrepresented in formal liturgical settings. Over the past decade, more Christian women have emerged as soloists, worship leaders, and composers. In choirs from Youhanabad to Gujranwala, female vocalists now lead Psalms in congregations and livestream performances. Their presence adds novel textures to sacred music and challenges traditional gender hierarchies within ecclesial spaces. Furthermore, youth-led worship collectives such as The Worship Project Pakistan and Rising Faith Ministries have commenced organising open-air concerts and praise nights, particularly during Easter and Christmas. These gatherings often combine classical Zaboor settings with contemporary genres such as pop-rock, acoustic folk, and even spoken word poetry. By merging tradition with experimentation, young Christians ensure that church music remains a pertinent and evolving expression of faith. Lastly, education initiatives surrounding music literacy are gaining traction. Institutions like Forman Christian College in Lahore and St. Thomas Seminary in Karachi now provide formal training in church music, composition, and theology. Through workshops, certificate programs, and performance ensembles, a new generation of trained liturgists and composers emerges equipped not only with musical proficiency but also with a profound understanding of their heritage. Church music in Pakistani Punjab encapsulates the intricate and multifaceted identity of a post-colonial nation: multilingual, devotional, politically aware, and profoundly resilient. Drawing inspiration from Bhabha's concept of hybridity, it seamlessly integrates Western liturgical practices with Punjabi emotional expressions. Through cultural memory, it effectively resists the erosion of historical recollections; through inculturation, it maintains its strong connection to its cultural roots; and through sonic theology, it effectively communicates without the need for verbal articulation. As Christian communities persistently face marginalisation, their music continues to serve as a poignant soundtrack of survival, embodying a theology not merely spoken but also manifested through the act of singing. Brian Bassanio Paul is a music enthusiast whose expertise lies at the intersection of music business, artist development, music appreciation, and cultural studies. He can be reached at and on LinkedIn @brianbassanio All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author
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4 days ago
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Veteran Actor Tauseeq Haider reflects on Gen Z, masculinity and marriage
On Monday, Veteran broadcaster Tauseeq Haider sat down with Ahmed Fozan on the Ahmed Fozan Podcast for an open conversation that moved seamlessly between generational divides, gender expectations, and emotional literacy. From the start, Haider set the tone for a conversation that was neither defensive nor nostalgic. "I don't want to be that old person who has a problem with everything new," he said, making clear that his observations come from curiosity rather than criticism. Much of the discussion focused on Gen Z. Rather than dismiss the younger generation, Haider expressed admiration for their emotional range and digital literacy. "They make memes, they cry also. They do everything. They are not emotionless." He acknowledged the pressures young people face, including climate anxiety, economic insecurity, and social fragmentation. "The youth today feels very intensely," he said. "They are expressing themselves. They are speaking. They are not just silent." Haider emphasized that he chooses to learn from Gen Z rather than lecture them. "I have left people my age. I am with Gen Z." He praised platforms like TikTok, not just for entertainment but as sources of education. "From TikTok I am learning astronomy, I am learning history, I am learning about religion." It was a striking departure from common narratives around technology and youth culture, particularly from someone of his generation. The conversation then turned toward masculinity and emotional repression. Haider spoke of how men are raised to suppress vulnerability. "Men are taught that their emotions don't matter." He traced the emotional disconnect in many marriages to this early conditioning. "When their wife or partner wants emotional support, they are not able to give it. Because they don't know how." He did not frame this as a flaw in men's character but as a systemic failure. "Nobody taught them that emotions are valid." On the topic of marriage, Haider spoke plainly. "Marriage is not a war. It does not mean one person ruling over another." He advocated for listening, respect, and emotional presence. "You should understand the person. Marriage means understanding." He pushed back against dominant models of control or submission. "Do not impose. Do not dictate. Listen." Haider also pushed back against the idea that having children is necessary to secure support in old age. 'I think this is a strange question,' he said. 'First of all, you are giving birth to a child to support you in old age, so this is a very selfish approach. Second thing is, you are determining that the one who doesn't have children, their old age will deteriorate. So I can tell you about a lot of people whose old age deteriorated despite having grandchildren.' He emphasized that while children are a great source of joy, they are not the only source. 'To attribute children to old age or old age happiness is a very stupid thing. It is true that if you don't have children, then children are the biggest happiness in life, but it is not the only happiness. So to be happy, you need a lot of blessings from God, which you should be thankful for, and with that happiness you should spend your old age."
Express Tribune
6 days ago
- Express Tribune
Thailand's roaring lion business
Behind a car repair business on a nondescript Thai street are the cherished pets of a rising TikTok animal influencer: two lions and a 200-kilogram lion-tiger hybrid called "Big George." Lion ownership is legal in Thailand, and Tharnuwarht Plengkemratch is an enthusiastic advocate, posting updates on his feline companions to nearly three million followers. "They're playful and affectionate, just like dogs or cats," he told AFP from inside their cage complex at his home in the northern city of Chiang Mai. Thailand's captive lion population has exploded in recent years, with nearly 500 registered in zoos, breeding farms, petting cafes and homes. Experts warn the trend endangers animals and humans, stretches authorities and likely fuels illicit trade domestically and abroad. "It's absolute madness," said Tom Taylor, chief operating officer of conservation group Wildlife Friends Foundation Thailand. "It's terrifying to imagine, if the laws aren't changed, what the situation is going to be in 10 years." The boom is fuelled by social media, where owners like Tharnuwarht post light-hearted content and glamour shots with lions. "I wanted to show people... that lions can actually bond well with humans," he said, insisting he plays regularly with his pets. He entered Big George's enclosure tentatively though, spending just a few minutes being batted by the tawny striped liger's hefty paws before retreating behind a fence. Since 2022, Thai law has required owners to register and microchip lions, and inform authorities before moving them. But there are no breeding caps, few enclosure or welfare requirements, and no controls on liger or tigon hybrids. Births of protected native species like tigers must be reported within 24 hours. Lion owners have 60 days. "That is a huge window," said Taylor. "What could be done with a litter of cubs in those 60 days? Anything." Illicit trade Taylor and his colleagues have tracked the rise in lion ownership with on-site visits and by trawling social media. They recorded around 130 in 2018, and nearly 450 by 2024. But nearly 350 more lions they encountered were "lost to follow-up" after their whereabouts could not be confirmed for a year. That could indicate unreported deaths, an animal removed from display or "worst-case scenarios", said Taylor. "We have interviewed traders (in the region) who have given us prices for live and dead lions and have told us they can take them over the border." As a vulnerable species, lions and their parts can only be sold internationally with so-called CITES permits. But there is circumstantial evidence of illicit trade, several experts told AFP, speaking on condition of anonymity to avoid angering authorities. Media reports and social media have documented lions, including cubs, in Cambodia multiple times in recent years, though CITES shows no registered imports since 2003. There is also growing evidence that captive lion numbers in Laos exceed CITES import licences. In Thailand, meanwhile, imports of lion parts like bones, skins and teeth have dropped in recent years, though demand remains, raising questions about how parts are now being sourced. Thai trader Pathamawadee Janpithak started in the crocodile business, but pivoted to lions as prices for the reptiles declined. "It gradually became a full-fledged business that I couldn't step away from," the gregarious 32-year-old told AFP in front of a row of caged cubs. She sells one-month-olds for around 500,000 baht (USD15,500), down from a peak of 800,000 baht as breeding operations like hers increase supply. Captive lions are generally fed around two kilograms (4.4 pounds) of chicken carcasses a day, and can produce litters of two to six cubs, once or twice a year. Pathamawadee's three facilities house around 80 lions, from a stately full-maned nine-year-old to a sickly pair of eight-day-olds being bottle-fed around the clock. They are white because of a genetic mutation, and the smaller pool of white lions means inbreeding and sickness are common. Sometimes wrongly considered a "threatened" subspecies, they are popular in Thailand, but a month-old white cub being reared alongside the newborns has been sick almost since birth. It has attracted no buyers so far and will be unbreedable, Pathamawadee said. She lamented the increasing difficulty of finding buyers willing to comply with ownership rules. "In the past, people could just put down money and walk away with a lion... Everything has become more complicated." Legal review Pathamawadee sells around half of the 90 cubs she breeds each year, often to other breeders, who are increasingly opening "lion cafes" where customers pose with and pet young lions. Outside Chiang Mai, a handler roused a cub from a nap to play with a group of squealing Chinese tourists. Staff let AFP film the interaction, but like all lion cafes contacted, declined interviews. Pathamawadee no longer sells to cafes, which tend to offload cubs within weeks as they grow. She said several were returned to her traumatised and no longer suitable for breeding. The growing lion population is a problem for Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP), admitted wildlife protection director Sadudee Punpugdee. "But private ownership has existed for a long time... so we're taking a gradual approach," he told AFP. That includes limiting lion imports so breeders are forced to rely on the domestic population. "With inbreeding on the rise, the quality of the lions is also declining and we believe that demand will decrease as a result," Sadudee said. Already stretched authorities face difficult choices on enforcing regulations, as confiscated animals become their responsibility, said Penthai Siriwat, illegal wildlife trade specialist at WWF Thailand. "There is a great deal of deliberation before intervening... considering the substantial costs," she told AFP. Owners like Tharnuwarht often evoke conservation to justify their pets, but Thailand's captive lions will never live in the wild. Two-year-olds Khanom and Khanun live in a DNP sanctuary after being confiscated from a cafe and private owner over improper paperwork. They could survive another decade or more, and require specialised keepers, food and care. Sanctuary chief vet Natanon Panpeth treads carefully while discussing the lion trade, warning only that the "well-being of the animals should always come first". Big cat ownership has been banned in the United States and United Arab Emirates in recent years, and Thailand's wildlife rules are soon up for review. Sadudee is hopeful some provisions may be tightened, though a ban is unlikely for now. He has his own advice for would-be owners: "Wild animals belong in the wild. There are plenty of other animals we can keep as pets."
