Love is not a choice. It’s a connection born deep within the soul, a bond written long before our birth. As mentioned in the Quran, “Souls that were once together, recognize each other in this world.” This divine connection is what inspires people to love—to dream, to choose a partner, and to want to spend a life with them. Love is not rebellion. Love is not shame. It is among the most sacred of human emotions. Yet in parts of Pakistan, like Balochistan, this natural feeling is met with bullets instead of blessings.
In July 2025, a horrifying video emerged from Balochistan showing the brutal murder of a young couple in the name of so-called honour. The couple had reportedly married for love—without their family’s permission. They were not criminals, not outlaws, but simply two people who wanted to live together in peace. Instead, they were abducted, dragged into a barren desert, and murdered in cold blood. The executioners? The girl’s own family: her brother, father, and uncles.
The most chilling detail was not the gunfire,but her final words. In Brahvi, she calmly said: “You are allowed to shoot me, but nothing more.” She requested to walk seven steps before dying, holding the dignity of her love and soul to the very end. She was wrapped in a shawl, her face filled not with fear but silent defiance. After two bullets, she still stood. After the third, she collapsed.
Her husband was then gunned down beside her. Their lives ended with violence, but their love ended with dignity.The murder was not hidden in darkness. A video showing the entire act was circulated on social media,its horror reaching every corner of the nation. It showed the couple being pulled from vehicles, led into the desert, and shot without remorse. As their bodies lay lifeless, their crime was clear: they had loved each other. The cruelty was so public, so shameless, that even political leaders were forced to react.
Leaders, activists, and citizens expressed shock. Balochistan’s Chief Minister called for an immediate investigation. Prominent voices like Bilawal Bhutto Zardari and human rights activists demanded justice. But these are the same words we’ve heard many times before. After every honour killing, the noise rises, and then it fades. What’s needed is not just condemnation,but action, accountability, and change.
According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, around 1,000 women are killed every year in the name of honour. In 2024 alone, at least 405 cases were reported,many more went undocumented. The reality is that in Pakistan, love can be a death sentence, especially for women. These crimes are committed not by strangers, but by family,by fathers, brothers, uncles. The ones meant to protect become the executioners.
Many people claim that love marriages are a sin in Islam,but this is a distortion. Islam allows and encourages marriage based on mutual consent. Our Prophet (PBUH) himself accepted the idea of marrying by choice. There is no place in religion for forced marriages or killings in the name of honour. This is not faith,it is tribal arrogance disguised as tradition.
In most cultures, a brother is considered a second father to his sister—her shield, her support. But in this case, it was her brother who pulled the trigger. What kind of honour is this? What dignity is restored by murdering your own blood? The real dishonour lies not in the woman’s love, but in her brutal murder. How long will daughters be killed in deserts by the men they once trusted?
Reports suggest that a local jirga,a tribal council,approved the killing. These jirgas often operate outside the state’s legal system, giving orders that directly violate human rights. Instead of protecting lives, they encourage violence. Pakistan’s courts have declared jirgas illegal, but in many areas, their power remains untouched. Until this parallel system is dismantled, true justice cannot be served.
Pakistan has laws criminalizing honour killings. But enforcement remains weak. Loopholes still exist,families can “forgive” the killer, who often belongs to the same household. This means that murderers walk free under legal protection. In the case of this Baloch couple, authorities must ensure full prosecution without family pardons, and without tribal interference.
The risk of being killed for loving someone is carried more by women than men. In rural areas, a woman’s honour is wrongly linked to family prestige. Her decisions, body, and voice are considered community property. When she chooses love, she threatens male control,making her a target. This deep-rooted misogyny must be confronted head-on.
In many countries, turning 18 means gaining freedom,to choose your education, your job, your partner. In places like Canada, the UK, or even neighboring Bangladesh, young people are encouraged to choose wisely but freely. Though these are not Islamic countries but Islam also didn’t say “don’t marry the one you love”.But in Pakistan, especially rural Balochistan, love still requires permission. And without it, it may cost your life. Why must our youth beg for the basic right to love?
Parents who kill in the name of love often claim they do it for family pride. But pride should lie in your child’s happiness, not their blood. No parent is dishonoured when their daughter chooses love. If you cannot accept their choice, at least do not punish them. Let them carry their own lives—and their mistakes. That’s what adulthood means.
The murder of this couple is not just a personal tragedy—it is a national wound. It reflects everything broken in our system: failed laws, corrupt traditions, and a silence that lets killers breathe freely. We owe it to that woman, who walked seven steps toward death, and to her partner, who followed her in life and death—to change.
This time, don’t let their story fade away. Speak about it. Demand justice. Educate those around you. Protect your sisters and daughters. And above all—understand that love is not a crime.
