The morning of Sunday, June 30, 2024, offered no respite. The exhaustion from the previous night’s duty as a Guest Relations Officer (GRO) in one of Raya’s busiest cafes lingered like a heavy shroud. I attempted to wash away the fatigue with a bath and a hearty breakfast, yet a sense of foreboding remained. As I departed, I didn’t realise I would return carrying the weight of a life-altering trauma.
As per my custom to maintain focus, I spent the hours of my duty counting, a mental anchor against the rush of the cafe. After my shift ended at midnight, I booked a ride to return home to Kahna. On the way, we were intercepted at Azam Chowk Checkpost. The man who stopped us was Officer Irfan, a policeman on active duty. I complied immediately, presenting my workplace ID and bag, but he appeared utterly uninterested in the protocol. Instead, he began a bizarre and aggressive interrogation regarding my gestures and the way I spoke to the rider. I attempted to ignore his nonsensical questions, but his hostility only intensified. When I reached for my phone, exhausted and wanting only to document the harassment for my safety, he lunged. Officer Irfan snatched my phone and accused me of the “crime” of filming him. What followed was not a legal procedure but a violent assault. He strangled me multiple times, twisted my arm and even slapped me. He returned my phone after advising me to work on my behaviour. I broke into tears after that and lodged a complaint at 15, immediately reaching Kamahan, Ferozpur Road.
Sleeping that night wasn’t easy at all. Still, I tried to cover my bruises and left home earlier to reach Gulberg police station, as I didn’t have any faith in Kanha police. I lodged a complaint at the IGP portal (4385004) and CM complaint cell.
This strangulation incident was not an isolated one. The police have bullied me before as well. The pattern of misconduct began during Ramadan in March 2024. While returning home, three police personnel, including Aslam Sandhu, intercepted me and subjected me to an aggressive and baseless search. They directed flashlights into my eyes and interrogated me about my residence and relationship status, religious habits and facial features with a tone of pure intimidation. Complaints were lodged. My family got worried, but the police were unable to find the culprits.
Then on 13 May 2024, a few policemen stopped me in a dark corner near the Soneri Bank Kahna Branch. One of the officers, Mr Ahmed, took my ID card and said he wouldn’t return it. He got so offended by my proficiency in English that he threatened to beat me up so that I would forget every word of this language. Another joked he would love to check my underwear. I stepped back just to clear my boundaries and took my phone out, which led them to leave and return my card.
Again, a complaint was lodged on the IGP portal, and its number was 4339409.
I went for a follow-up to the Kahna ASP office. Abdullah Ehsaan, a young officer, dismissed my concerns, laughed when I told him about the police’s insensitive remarks, and suggested that “everyone is a criminal” in their eyes. He told me, quite callously, that I “deserved to be treated this way and my filer status is not significant enough to brag about.” I really wonder how a government officer denies the importance of tax-filer citizens.
I showed up at my workplace on Monday and managed to perform assigned duties. It dawned on me that gulping down water has become an uphill task, let alone eating something. My voice became hoarse, my vision blurred, my speech slurred, and I faced frequent hearing loss, and wearing a tie was like strangling myself again. A kind regular customer showed up for takeaway, and after listening to me, he said he does have contacts in the police, but I should stay away from them, as they will make my life difficult and miserable. Suggested I take a rest. I told my owner that night, who assured me of getting justice.
I went to our family doctor for consultation as shoulder pain became unbearable, but he judged me and wrote “Not for Legal” on the prescription form. The owner managed to lodge a complaint on Thursday through some known friend and got a call from Irfan within a few days, and he apologised and was conveniently forgiven.
I got a call from Kahna Station on 8th July and visited the ASP office again on Wednesday, 10th July 2024, where the staff stood up and blamed me for provoking Irfan. They demanded Irfan’s contact number and asked me to find him. I was appalled by this victim-shaming behaviour but didn’t let myself down and went to Nishter Colony police station.
There I met a shift supervisor named Ramazan (as far as I remember) and asked him to provide me the roster for last Sunday’s duty. He pretended to be preoccupied with Muharram duties, and I spotted an accomplice of Irfan from that night, Yasir. That night his name was not embossed on the shirt. He looked extremely worried. He tried to extend his hand for a handshake, which I ignored. Despite my effort, nobody cooperated.
On reaching home, the owner called me to say, ‘He won’t be able to SAVE me from the police’s wrath if I pursue the case.’ All my efforts went in vain. I realised Irfan is being protected. Why on Earth does everybody dictate the victim? Why can’t people stop an offender in the first place? This world is so unjust.
On 13th July, another call was made from Kahna Station, and the receptionist tried to scold me for not showing up, to which I reminded her about my visit, and she hung up abruptly. I had written a letter to the editor of the Daily Dawn which got published on 14th July, but that failed to do me any favours. On 15th July, I received a message that my disinterest in follow-up has resulted in complaint dismissal. I wonder whose disinterest has done this.
I thought of giving up this for mental sanity and peace, as things were going out of hand, in the hope that time will heal everything, but how can time heal me without necessary justice? People who claimed that trauma made them stronger are liars. Trauma is there to weaken your nervous system.
The politics at my workplace took a new turn when I took an order for takeaway on call and, as usual, left the workplace at the assigned time. The other teammates contacted that non-serious customer; he first denied ordering, then lied about coming, and ended up blocking the phone number. The general manager was informed, and some managers consumed that order, and the next day the GM scolded me for being negligent and said he would deduct the order amount from my salary. I confronted him that the order should be charged to those who had eaten that up. Some managers favoured me, but still the salary gets deducted. I confronted the GM for this, and the next day I was in front of my owner, who scolded me for being impulsive and threw money on the table. His tone was harsh, and I got to know the GM has played his cards. Much worse, the owner blamed me for the police assault. GM asked me to resign, to which I stayed quiet. I remember the second time the police bullied me, Abu told me to find a new job, to which I responded that the owner had offered me this job and I wanted to show commitment, at least for a year. How can I betray him? This was the cost of showing commitment.
Nonetheless, after the police assault, the supportive guests were coming who were praising my demeanour and conduct as a server. Just a day after getting insulted by the owner, I helped a customer order for his daughter, who was allergic to eggs, and made sure she got an eggless grilled burger without any mayonnaise-based sauce. That kind guest named me in the comment card, appreciating my skills. I enjoyed watching the GM reaction after reading that particular card.
The next day, two young girls and a boy complained about a late order. I immediately enquired and got to know that the prep batch has been spoilt; the fresh batch is being stuffed and fried. Without lying, apologised and told them the exact reason, and this proactive communication led them to write this: ‘Javed is an incredible host!’ They not only placed 200 PKR as a tip in the folder but handed 500 PKR secretly to me, which eventually goes into the tip box because the tip divides, and everybody gets a share, including the GM!
I began cooking for my family on my day off, after three months, spent time doomscrolling, and started watching Pakistani seasons for escapism. Despite all efforts, we were unable to prevent those negative thoughts. I kept on shifting between victim and survivor mode. Later I discovered that the impulsivity my employer later used to blame me is, in fact, a clinical symptom of post-strangulation trauma. The medical community recognises that hypoxia and the sheer terror of being strangled alter brain chemistry. What my owner called a “flaw in my nature” was actually a neurological injury caused by the state. My “impulsiveness” was the sound of a nervous system shattered by Officer Irfan’s hands. And then again in September, I got a call from Kanha police station. Upon visiting, I realised that the CM portal has resent the complaint erroneously. I wasn’t satisfied with the content because it was a copied essay despite the fact I dictated every sentence to the operator. I offered the receptionist to rewrite the complaint, to which she agreed reluctantly. I wrote the exact event with details. Abdullah Ehsaan evaded meeting me. She told me she would call me on some “other day.”
The physical and psychological toll on my body is heavy. I suffer from canker sores frequently, which the doctor says are due to stress. I used to get panic attacks sometimes, but I kept working for my survival by forgetting that justice is a basic human need too. I kept approaching different influential people to punish Irfan but hadn’t succeeded. Then on February 28, 2025, a family praised me for being polite and courteous and tipped me heavily, but I put that in a tip box, to which they called the manager and ordered him to make sure Javed got those 5000 PKR. I felt immensely satisfied to see somebody taking a stand for me. Obviously I didn’t get that 5000 PKR, but their compliment and praise were worth more than a million dollars for me. So life wasn’t completely black and white. The universe was trying to heal me through some generous and kind-hearted guests. My loss was somewhat incommensurable.
My silence across 20 months has maybe weakened my case, but I read a lot about law during this period. Article 14 focuses on maintaining human dignity and privacy. Police Order 2002 emphasises police to be courteous and helpful. SOPs of Checkpost police say the duty officer shouldn’t be mentally unstable or psychologically unfit. Assigning duty to Irfan was a clear violation of this, even though I wonder how Abdullah Ehsaan passed the psychological test. Police have zero training and knowledge of a citizen’s fundamental right, and citizens bear the brunt of this institute which is meant to protect the public. Most of the time officers prefer not wearing a strip that reveals their name to practice this. The police behaviour towards complainants adds insult to injury. The complaint cell failed to do their jobs well; the CM portal operator has crammed an essay, and the text of all my complaints was the same. While the police are just busy waxing lyrical about their good image on social media rather than working for the public. Dawn reported that IGP suspended a few officials every year over complaints, but do they have a date of officers who retained their jobs despite complaints?
I had left my job and declined some good restaurant offers, as the restaurant front desk jobs shift ended at night. I am working on reopening the case under the Custodial Torture Act 2022, but deep down I know justice is an elusive luxury which a person like me cannot afford. It remains the question: if the law cannot protect those who comply with it, then what purpose does it serve?