They fell in love, then they were murdered in the name of ‘honour’

When he went to work as a servant for a local landlord family, Sajid Masih would have a spring in his step.

The hours were long and the duties mundane. But every time he entered the Asif family home in a village in Pakistan’s Punjab province, he had a chance to exchange a glance – perhaps a few words – with Sanah, his employer’s daughter, with whom he had fallen in love.

Over time, an unlikely relationship blossomed. Sanah was rich, privileged and part of a powerful landlord caste. Not only was Sajid a servant of the family – something that would immediately rule him out as a potential match – he was Christian. The odds appeared insurmountable.

But on July 15, the young couple eloped. They fled the Asif home not far from the city of Gujrunwalla and headed for the vast southern megalopolis of Karachi, where they hoped to blend in among the 20 million other residents who throng its streets.

One week later, they married. In order to secure the approval of a local court, Sajid had converted to Islam, a legal requirement to wed a Muslim woman.

Two bodies found

For a time, they were happy. Husband and wife let loose. The sweltering summer heat cooled at night and they could sit side by side on a bench to watch the world go by.

But on July 28, two unidentifiable bodies were found by labourers in the China port area. They belonged to Sanah and Sajid, police later confirmed.

Both had been shot with a single bullet to the head. And so detectives began the familiar task: launching an investigation into one of the hundreds of so-called “honour killings” that take place each year in Pakistan.

“Sajid was a kind and hard-working son,” his mother, Arifa Bibi, told The Telegraph from an undisclosed location.

“He supported not just us – his elderly parents – but also his four younger siblings.”

“I don’t know exactly what happened. But my son Sajid eloped with Sanah, the daughter of one of those landlords [we worked for]. Since then, we’ve been in hiding. Two days ago, we learned that Sajid and Sanah were killed in Karachi.”

In Gujrunwala, Sanah’s family filed a police report claiming their daughter had been kidnapped and raped.

But Mohammad Riaz, a senior police officer in Karachi, said the main line of investigation was into Waqas Ali, Sanah’s brother, who is the primary suspect in an alleged honour killing.

According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, such crimes are on the rise. In 2023, there were 226 reported cases. Last year, the figure rose to 405.

Two more cases have shocked the nation in the last month alone.

In the rural, poverty-stricken southwestern province of Balochistan, a woman, Bano Bibi, was filmed calmly accepting her fate after she reportedly had an affair with Ehsan Ullah Samalani.

“Come walk seven steps with me,” says Bano, approaching a group of armed men before turning her back, “after that you can shoot me.”

Her brother then shoots her three times in the back before she falls to the ground. He then turns the gun on Ehsan and shoots him dead.

Since then, Bano’s mother and Sher Baz Satakzai, a tribal chief, are among 16 people to be arrested by police.

Her mother, Gul Jan Bibi, said the killings were carried out by family and local elders based on “centuries-old Baloch traditions” and not by the tribal chief.

“We did not commit any sin,” she said. “Bano and Ehsan were killed according to our customs.”

In the modern, wealthy city of Rawalpindi, the body of an 18-year-old girl, Sidra, was exhumed after a suspicious burial: she had been strangled by her former husband and her relatives, police said. She was allegedly murdered after she married a man she had fallen in love with.

Harris Khalique, the secretary-general of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, said the true number of honour killings each year is likely far higher than the official total, explaining that “many cases go unreported”.

Syed Kausar Abbas, director of the Sustainable Social Development Organisation, agreed.

“In cities like Karachi and Rawalpindi, these crimes often come to light. But in remote areas, we may never know they even happened – unless a video goes viral, like in Balochistan.”

Both Mr Khalique and Mr Abbas argue that these killings should not be called “honour” killings. “This is pure brutality,” said Mr Khalique. “No society should accept this.”

“Even when arrests are made, convictions are rare,” Mr Abbas added. “Justice is not being served.”

From hiding, Sajid’s mother Arifa mourns her son.

“My young son is gone. We are living on the run – hiding from one place to another. Sajid even changed his religion for Sanah’s love. He became a Muslim to marry her. Aren’t all Muslims equal? Then why was he killed?”

It is a question so many are forced to ask, in a society where love can be deadlier than hate.