People gathered outside the village, their eyes burning with anger. We carried the body of Dr. Shahnawaz Kandanar, hoping to lay him to rest in our land in the quiet desert. But before we could lower him into the earth, they came—furious, unrelenting. We had no choice but to flee. As we looked back in helpless horror, they set his body ablaze.
This tragic scene unfolded in Umerkot, Sindh, where Dr. Shahnawaz, a physician from the local hospital, became the center of a blasphemy case. After being killed in what authorities claimed was a police encounter, his family faced unimaginable horrors just trying to bury him.
A case had been filed against him on September 17 for blasphemy, but the arrest never happened. Instead, the news of his death in a police encounter came out late on the night of September 18-19. Before his death, Umerkot had already been gripped by violent protests from religious groups, who had been incensed by the alleged blasphemy.
His relative recounted the nightmare. Denied the right to bury Dr. Shahnawaz in a local cemetery, his father decided to take matters into his own hands. They brought the body in an ambulance at dawn, but the angry mob wouldn’t even let it enter the village. The driver was forced to stop, and the body was unloaded hastily. In desperation, they placed him in a car with his feet sticking out of the window, driving off towards Jahanro, a small town 40 km away, hoping for peace.
But peace never came. Even there, the mob followed. Religious party workers and locals swarmed the area. The cemetery doors remained closed to them, so they took him to their land in the desert, far from anyone, thinking they could finally give him the respect he deserved. But the mob found them again. They threatened the family, seized the body, and in a final act of brutality, set it on fire, scorching half of what remained of their loved one.
It was as if even death hadn’t been enough for the angry crowd; their rage consumed not just his life, but his very memory.
SSP Umerkot Asif Raza Baloch claimed that Dr. Shahnawaz’s body was under police custody, but the situation in the area had spiraled out of control, forcing them to bury him on his family’s land. He said, with a chilling certainty, that if they had attempted a burial in the local cemetery, the mob would likely have exhumed the body and desecrated it later.
The truth, however, was far more heartbreaking. A senior officer of the Umerkot district administration confirmed that the mob had indeed set Dr. Shahnawaz’s body on fire. But SSP Umerkot denied it, insisting that the videos circulating on social media had been edited and that the burial had occurred peacefully in the presence of police. Yet, for the family of Dr. Shahnawaz, this was far from the truth.
A relative recounted their agony, saying the police arrived far too late—long after the angry mob had already unleashed their fury on the body. It was only then that they gathered whatever remained of Dr. Shahnawaz and attempted a cremation, amidst their grief and disbelief.
The blasphemy case that tore their world apart was lodged by a local mosque preacher, who accused Dr. Shahnawaz of using offensive language against the Prophet of Islam on social media. Dr. Shahnawaz, a doctor employed at Umerkot’s Civil Hospital, had been dismissed immediately after the FIR was filed. Soon after, a video surfaced on social media, where a shaken Dr. Shahnawaz pleaded for understanding. He explained that the Facebook account in question was old, one he no longer used. “I’ve stopped using Facebook,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. He urged the public to let the authorities—police, FIA, or Rangers—investigate the matter properly. “Everything will become clear,” he said, holding onto a fragile hope that justice might still be served.
But that hope was shattered the very day the blasphemy charge was brought against him, on the Prophet’s birthday. What should have been a day of celebration turned into a nightmare as a procession in Umerkot descended into violent protests, with the crowd directing their rage toward Dr. Shahnawaz. They set a police vehicle on fire, and it seemed that their thirst for destruction would not be quenched until they had taken everything from him—even his dignity in death.
For Dr. Shahnawaz’s family, the horror didn’t end with his passing—it only deepened. His life was taken, his name tarnished, and in the end, even his final rest was denied.
SSP Mirpur Khas Asad Chaudhry said that the encounter that claimed Dr. Shahnawaz’s life took place in Sindhri. According to his account, it was a routine police patrol when Shahnawaz allegedly opened fire upon spotting the officers. In the chaos that followed, the bullets that ended his life, he claimed, were not even from the police—they came from his accomplice. A tragic twist of fate, they said.
But the family tells a different, far more painful story. A close relative of Dr. Shahnawaz said that they had voluntarily handed him over to the police in Karachi, trusting that they would keep him safe. “Security was their responsibility,” he said, his voice heavy with grief and anger. They believed that once in police custody, no harm could come to him. Yet, in an alleged staged encounter, Shahnawaz lost his life. “It was a fake encounter,” the relative insisted, holding onto the bitter conviction that the entire story was fabricated.
He revealed an even darker side to this nightmare: Shahnawaz’s father had been held by the police, his release conditional upon his son’s arrest. It was as if their hands were tied, and they had no choice but to trust the very force that would later claim his life.
Yet the police deny these accusations. SHO Sindhri firmly rejected the claims of an extrajudicial killing. He said that the patrol was there because of robberies in the area, nothing more. The implication was clear: Dr. Shahnawaz’s death was merely an unfortunate coincidence, not the result of a calculated act. But to the family, these words were hollow, another layer of injustice stacked upon the tragedy.
The controversy caught the attention of Sindh Interior Minister Zia-ul-Hasan Linjar, who has since called for an impartial inquiry into Dr. Shahnawaz’s death. He promised that the investigation would be neutral and that all possible legal actions would be taken. But for the family, no promise, no investigation, can undo the devastation they’ve suffered. Dr. Shahnawaz is gone, and with him, their faith in justice.
Their trust in the system, once fragile, is now shattered. A father handed over his son to the authorities in hope, only to be left clutching nothing but grief.