Drunk on Power: A Tale of Privilege and Injustice

On a tragic Monday in Karachi, a speeding SUV, driven by Natasha, the wife of industrialist Danish Iqbal, chairman of Gul Ahmed Energy Limited, claimed the lives of at least five people. The CCTV footage is harrowing: a father and daughter on a motorcycle, helpless as a luxury vehicle rams into them, driven recklessly by someone allegedly under the influence. The shockwaves from this incident have gripped the nation, but beneath the surface lies a deeper, more troubling narrative—one that speaks to the heart of our justice system.

As the dust settles and the police investigations begin, familiar patterns start to emerge. Natasha, detained by the police, has already been described as someone suffering from mental distress, a defense that could pave the way for leniency. Her privileged status almost guarantees that if she is convicted, she will likely be housed in "A" class prison cell, replete with comforts unimaginable to the common inmate. The next steps are predictable: the families of the victims will face immense pressure to accept diyat, a provision under the Qisas and Diyat Ordinance, which allows them to forgive the perpetrator in exchange for monetary compensation. This provision, meant to offer closure and justice, is often twisted into a tool for the rich to buy their way out of accountability.

What we are witnessing is not just the failure of a driver but the failure of a system—one that bends to the will of the powerful and leaves the ordinary citizen to pick up the pieces. This incident is more than a tragic accident; it is a glaring example of how justice in our country is often divided along the lines of wealth and influence.

But this is not just about the wealthy escaping justice. It is also about the families of victims, who, disillusioned with the justice system, may choose to "cash out" the deaths of their loved ones. In a society where justice seems out of reach, can we blame them? The real tragedy is that we have come to expect this. We expect the police to protect the powerful, not the vulnerable. We expect the media to suppress stories that threaten the status quo. And we expect that the rich will walk free, while the poor are left to mourn.

Even if Natasha was not drunk but under the influence of medication, why was she allowed to drive? Where were the safeguards that could have prevented this tragedy? The fact that this question is even being asked speaks volumes about the gravity of the situation and the systemic failures at play.

This is not just a story about one woman’s reckless actions; it’s a reflection of the broader injustices that plague our society. It’s a story about power, privilege, and a justice system that seems increasingly out of touch with the people it is meant to serve. We must demand better—better laws, better enforcement, and above all, a justice system that serves all citizens equally, regardless of their wealth or status.

If we don't, the cycle will continue. More lives will be lost, more families will be shattered, and the powerful will continue to walk away unscathed, drunk on power and free from accountability.