My journey with Case No 9 crisscrossed continents: the US, UAE and Pakistan. Used to a diet of rom-coms, starry-eyed love and vamps, my mother was sceptical when my sister insisted that we watch the series.
The very first episode was horrifying as Seher was raped at her boss Kamran’s house. An unsettling watch with heartrending visuals which jumped off the screen. Nevertheless, my mother, sister, sister-in-law and I, our group of four, was riveted as the drama drew us into the world of Seher who sets out to seek justice.
Seher’s journey spanned from a devastated rape victim trembling in the courtroom in front of the wealthy, powerful and entitled Kamran to a courageous survivor who looked her rapist in the eye and left him squirming. Words matter – in the beginning Seher saw herself as a victim. Her brother goes to the extent of imprisoning her at home, her mother only concerned about what people will say.
But once Sehar decides to speak out, she becomes a survivor who stands tall. Author of ‘After Silence: Rape and My Journey Back’, Nancy Raine says: “Words seemed to make it visible. But, speaking, even when it embarrassed me, also slowly freed me from the shame I felt. The more I struggled to speak, the less power the rape, and its aftermath, seemed to have over me”.
Rape survivors in Pakistan are often tormented by society. A woman in Degwal, Sargodha who was gang-raped by servants of the landlord, committed suicide by setting herself on fire due to the taunts of village women. Her suicide note said: “They told me that I was damaged and I should never again be allowed to walk in the streets of the village. They said I had brought dishonour on my family. I want to bring an end to my family’s misery as well as my own. They said that if I had any self-respect I should kill myself out of shame”.
Rape is the only crime where the survivor is cast in the role of aggressor and subjected to a battery of questions: the victim blaming is endless and soul destroying: what were you wearing? Why were you out so late? What did you do? It is precisely this kind of a ubiquitous regressive mindset that Case No 9 tackles with sensitivity. The drama takes on sexual assault, institutional apathy and the emotional burden of legal battles.
While the court system teems with unscrupulous lawyers and police as shown in Case No 9, it is rare to have an honest judge who delivers a landmark judgement. Contrast this with the behaviour of the Additional District and Sessions Judge Nizar Ali Khawaja on March 25, 2009 in Karachi. The 15-year-old gang rape survivor, Kainat Soomro, was asked by the judge to describe her rape in front of the accused who had reportedly threatened and bribed Somroo’s family to settle out of court.
In front of 80 spectators, the defence counsel and the judge asked a string of invasive questions regarding the rape. She was asked when certain items of clothing were removed, exactly what actions were done to her, and when. When Kainat replied that she couldn’t remember because she fainted, the judge berated her. This is what rape survivors have to contend with when they take their rapists to court.
The recent judgements of Justice Mansoor Ali Shah and Justice Ayesha Malik call for an end to gender stereotyping of rape survivors and focus on the crime. Justice Malik connected rape cases to constitutional rights to life and dignity. These judgements are reflected in laws like the Anti-Rape Investigation and Trial Act 2021 which are aimed at creating a fair legal framework for rape survivors.
Despite such progressive laws, in reality rape survivors and their families face issues due to misogynistic mindsets and institutional apathy. Case No 9 sets a precedent for courtroom etiquette and how rape cases should be handled from the initial stages of the police report and medical examination. The legal challenges, filing of the FIR, the vital importance of preserving evidence, engaging lawyers, court procedures and recent changes to the law have been highlighted.
Little nuances pepper the serial; for instance, when the principled SP leaves his bedroom to take action against Kamran for raping Sehar, the camera focuses on the SP’s wife embracing and holding their young daughter close. No words are spoken. Then there is Ali Rehman Khan in the role of Seher’s ex-husband who backs her to the hilt and hopes to renew their relationship. He is told gently by Sehar to go and live his life. Seher is her own hero and she does not need a messiah.
Case No 9 showcases the power of female camaraderie and the emancipated women who have Seher’s back: her lawyer Beenish, her friend Manisha, her best friend in Canada and Kamran’s wife Kiran who ultimately gave the crucial piece of evidence. While men have a bro code, it is refreshing to see women unite and move mountains with their dedication and conviction.
The legendary Saba Qamar, Faysal Qureshi, Amina Sheikh and Gohar Rasheed lived their roles, but the revelation was the excellence of the supporting cast. A taut and sensitive script by Shahzeb Khanzada stood out with no irritating fillers; each actor had an essential role in taking the story forward. Naveen Waqar and Junaid Khan were superb as Kamran’s friends Manisha and Rohan as was Rushna Khan as Kamran’s wife Kiran: all three were faced with moral dilemmas which they crested.
An interesting technique was the insertion of the Shahzeb Khanzada show within the series where Seher and Kamran face off. Banking on the show’s credibility, it lent authenticity to the facts as well as the alarming statistics and graphs on rape and sexual assault that were highlighted by Shahzeb. ‘When a woman says no, it means no’ and ‘bring up your boys better’ were two vital messages from him.
Our group of four watched Case No 9 in rapt silence: tea was sipped quietly, phones were muted, children shushed. Post every episode, there were serious conversations about what we had just witnessed on screen. My mother and many of my friends said they had learnt a lot from Case No 9 and they are not the only ones. The impact of this series will go a long way in disrupting the conspiracy of silence and misogynistic mindset surrounding sexual assault that has prevailed for far too long in Pakistan.
The writer is an author, journalist and change agent. She can be reached at:
