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Society Girl: A Tale of Sex, Lies, and Scandal
On an October morning in 1970, phones began ringing all over Karachi. The charismatic young poet and former civil servant Mustafa Zaidi had been found dead in his bedroom. He wasn’t alone: Shahnaz Gul, a stunningly beautiful, married socialite, with whom Zaidi had been having an affair, was lying unconscious in the next room, seemingly drugged.
360 pages, Paperback
Published October 2, 2024
25 people are currently reading
346 people want to read
About the author
Saba Imtiaz
5 books235 followersSaba Imtiaz is a freelance journalist in Pakistan. Her work has appeared in the New York Times, the Guardian and the Christian Science Monitor. She reports on religious movements, culture and politics in Pakistan. She is the author of Karachi, You're Killing Me! (Random House India, 2014) and No Team of Angels (First Draft Publishing, forthcoming).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 51 reviews
January 11, 2025
Very sensational and gossipy: an important read into the Pakistan of 1960’s and 70’s.
March 1, 2025
The authors transport readers back to 1970s Karachi, vividly recreating the era’s atmosphere. The narrative is so immersive that the incidents, including the mysterious murder of Mustafa Zaidi, feel as if they happened in the recent past. Books like this, which take us back in time, offer a glimpse into Karachi’s rich history, capturing its essence in both the pre and early post partition years. It’s a fascinating read that brings the city’s past to life.
May 30, 2025
1. The book could have been a longform piece or something.
2. The best bits were not the actual murder and trial stuff but rather all the social context around it.
3. Not sure what was the purpose of details on nationalization and Yahya and Bhutto in Epilogue
2. The best bits were not the actual murder and trial stuff but rather all the social context around it.
3. Not sure what was the purpose of details on nationalization and Yahya and Bhutto in Epilogue
March 13, 2025
The book is so gripping and intriguing that you will completely immerse into the environment of narrated story. Perfectly written and beautifully elaborated, i kept wondering what kind of people they were in 1970s. It's really astonishing to learn about 70s Pakistan, even without Internet. Read the book if u love to read history, crime, romance social psychology, narcissist mindset and insanity for desires. Really good read.
November 29, 2024
In "Society Girl", Saba Imtiaz and Tooba Masood-Khan resurrect one of Pakistan’s most sensational and puzzling scandals—the 1970 death of renowned poet Mustafa Zaidi. Found lifeless in his Karachi bedroom with his lover, the enigmatic socialite Shahnaz Gul, unconscious in the next room, Zaidi’s demise shook a nation grappling with its own sociopolitical turmoil. What ensued was a saga of obsession, revenge, power plays, and unanswered questions that captivated and divided public opinion for decades.
The book blends investigative journalism, historical analysis, and social commentary to unravel the mystery surrounding Zaidi’s death. The authors spent years piecing together fragmented accounts, court proceedings, media narratives, and personal testimonies to offer readers a meticulously detailed account of not just the case, but the societal backdrop that enabled its infamy.
The authors vividly recreate the chaotic Karachi of the 1970s, painting a society in flux one torn between tradition and modernity, conservatism and liberalism. The meticulous detail with which they recount the events leading up to Zaidi’s death is remarkable. From the poet’s strained personal life to his turbulent affair with Shahnaz Gul, the narrative reads like a thriller, gripping the reader from the first page to the last.
The authors don’t just focus on Zaidi’s tragic end; they explore the numerous forces that shaped the scandal. The story unveils layers of class privilege, the role of the press in sensationalizing crime, and the cultural obsession with morality and scandal. This multi-faceted approach elevates the book from being a mere retelling of a crime to a deep exploration of human behavior and societal hypocrisy.
Zaidi, Shahnaz, and the cast of characters surrounding them are portrayed in all their complexity. The authors avoid simplistic judgments, instead presenting their motives, flaws, and vulnerabilities with empathy. Shahnaz, especially, emerges as a figure torn between societal expectations and personal desires, while Zaidi is portrayed as a man consumed by his own contradictions as a poet whose art couldn’t save him from self-destruction.
By situating the scandal within the larger socio-political framework of Pakistan’s post-independence struggles, the authors reveal how the incident became a microcosm of broader societal tensions. The investigation touches on class privilege, gender dynamics, and the public’s voyeuristic fascination with the private lives of the elite. The authors effectively critique the patriarchal lens through which the media and public viewed Shahnaz, blaming her for Zaidi’s downfall while largely absolving him of accountability.
The narrative’s journalistic precision is commendable, but it also maintains a literary elegance that transforms a true-crime story into a poignant commentary on life, love, and loss. The prose is evocative without being indulgent, and the pacing ensures that even the most meticulous details never feel tedious.
In conclusion, it is an enthralling exploration of a real-life scandal that feels stranger than fiction. With its intricate detailing, sharp social commentary, and empathetic portrayal of its characters, the book transcends the true-crime genre to become a profound reflection on human nature and society’s flaws.
For readers fascinated by stories of mystery, scandal, and the interplay of personal and societal forces, it is a must-read. It not only revisits a haunting case but also holds a mirror to the cultural psyche of a nation caught between its past and future.
The book blends investigative journalism, historical analysis, and social commentary to unravel the mystery surrounding Zaidi’s death. The authors spent years piecing together fragmented accounts, court proceedings, media narratives, and personal testimonies to offer readers a meticulously detailed account of not just the case, but the societal backdrop that enabled its infamy.
The authors vividly recreate the chaotic Karachi of the 1970s, painting a society in flux one torn between tradition and modernity, conservatism and liberalism. The meticulous detail with which they recount the events leading up to Zaidi’s death is remarkable. From the poet’s strained personal life to his turbulent affair with Shahnaz Gul, the narrative reads like a thriller, gripping the reader from the first page to the last.
The authors don’t just focus on Zaidi’s tragic end; they explore the numerous forces that shaped the scandal. The story unveils layers of class privilege, the role of the press in sensationalizing crime, and the cultural obsession with morality and scandal. This multi-faceted approach elevates the book from being a mere retelling of a crime to a deep exploration of human behavior and societal hypocrisy.
Zaidi, Shahnaz, and the cast of characters surrounding them are portrayed in all their complexity. The authors avoid simplistic judgments, instead presenting their motives, flaws, and vulnerabilities with empathy. Shahnaz, especially, emerges as a figure torn between societal expectations and personal desires, while Zaidi is portrayed as a man consumed by his own contradictions as a poet whose art couldn’t save him from self-destruction.
By situating the scandal within the larger socio-political framework of Pakistan’s post-independence struggles, the authors reveal how the incident became a microcosm of broader societal tensions. The investigation touches on class privilege, gender dynamics, and the public’s voyeuristic fascination with the private lives of the elite. The authors effectively critique the patriarchal lens through which the media and public viewed Shahnaz, blaming her for Zaidi’s downfall while largely absolving him of accountability.
The narrative’s journalistic precision is commendable, but it also maintains a literary elegance that transforms a true-crime story into a poignant commentary on life, love, and loss. The prose is evocative without being indulgent, and the pacing ensures that even the most meticulous details never feel tedious.
In conclusion, it is an enthralling exploration of a real-life scandal that feels stranger than fiction. With its intricate detailing, sharp social commentary, and empathetic portrayal of its characters, the book transcends the true-crime genre to become a profound reflection on human nature and society’s flaws.
For readers fascinated by stories of mystery, scandal, and the interplay of personal and societal forces, it is a must-read. It not only revisits a haunting case but also holds a mirror to the cultural psyche of a nation caught between its past and future.
August 26, 2025
Really enjoyed this! As a gen Z, I’ve only heard stories about Pakistan in the 60s/70s. Imtiaz and Masood-Khan provided an immersive window into the past. I found the historical, social and political context to be helpful when considering the sensationalised scandal. On a personal note, Kunwar Idris was my grandfather and I cherish being able to take a peak into his career and legacy
Highly recommend!
Highly recommend!
December 5, 2024
When you fall into a book slump, it throws you in a state of depression because months will go by and my stack of books will go higher and higher but yet nothing will appeal to you.
Society Girl literally broke through the walls, grabbed me by my hands and emersed me into a wickedly deceitful time of the 70s featuring high society parties, a whodunit murder mystery case and a startlingly horrible reminder of how to this day, even the worst man on this planet will get all the free PR and support he needs than a righteous woman who made one mistake.
I've honestly been someone who was sceptical before picking up Pakistani writers because of the stereotypes associated with them and the second hand embarrassment as a pakkstani girl I feel when coming across writings on monsoon sex. But thank you tooba and Saba for such a wickedly addictive read, and getting me out of such a bad slump. Now I'm depressed because I inhaled the book the second it released across bookstores in Lahore and I can't find anything that would match with the thrill it created in my soul.
Society Girl literally broke through the walls, grabbed me by my hands and emersed me into a wickedly deceitful time of the 70s featuring high society parties, a whodunit murder mystery case and a startlingly horrible reminder of how to this day, even the worst man on this planet will get all the free PR and support he needs than a righteous woman who made one mistake.
I've honestly been someone who was sceptical before picking up Pakistani writers because of the stereotypes associated with them and the second hand embarrassment as a pakkstani girl I feel when coming across writings on monsoon sex. But thank you tooba and Saba for such a wickedly addictive read, and getting me out of such a bad slump. Now I'm depressed because I inhaled the book the second it released across bookstores in Lahore and I can't find anything that would match with the thrill it created in my soul.
December 17, 2024
salacious, titillating, and so, so juicy! a fantastical glimpse into 70's Karachi and Pakistan. also reaffirms my belief that fuckboys have existed forever.
March 7, 2025
4.5 stars - what a tantalising experience. not just a who-dun-it but exhibition of a wonderful way to dissect the pakistani society back in the 70s. there is so much that i didn’t know. so much. this book wasn’t just an average thriller, it was a trial where the entirety of the high end/elite society is put on the stand. it reveals all of the macabre aspects of how stagnant things still are — the never-ending bigotry and patriarchal nuances and hatred for women who know what they want. ugh love the anthropological and politico-historical tangents the authors drew from this.
jbtw there were certain times when the book felt like a drag & overloaded with info, but overall a fast paced, engaging read!
jbtw there were certain times when the book felt like a drag & overloaded with info, but overall a fast paced, engaging read!
August 29, 2025
Was hooked throughout. This was actually written pretty well without the writer's own judgements tainting the narrative. I also loved how she weaved in the larger historic incidents going on at the time.
August 4, 2025
Need to stop reading non fiction that glorifies revenge porn, miscarriage of justice and social stigma of being a woman who knows what she wants.
February 10, 2025
flew through this
April 10, 2025
I don’t usually lean towards true crime, but Society Girl is an exception for how it manages to avoid being lurid, while still being gossipy and compulsively readable. Just a perfect travel/vacation book - an incredibly salacious story which somehow also perfectly locates the socio-historical context of Pakistan in the 70s. I wish I’d read it more slowly but instead I finished it cover to cover on my flight back to Toronto.
January 9, 2026
So the best true crime book that I read in 2025 is Society Girl by Saba Imtiaz and Tooba Masood-Khan. Originally published in 2024 in Pakistan by Liberty Publishing and in India by Roli Books Publishers. The edition I read is the latest paperback, published in 2025.
I’m a fan of Saba Imtiaz’s writing. I liked her fictional ‘Karachi, you’re killing me’ which was adapted by an Indian production house as a Sonakshi Sinha starrer ‘Noor’.
Imtiaz researched for ‘Society Girl’ with her co-author Masood-Khan. Both did a two-season podcast ‘Notes on a Scandal’ on this story. The book is well-written, is a real page-turner and takes you on a smooth ride by vigilant co-author researchers.
Mustafa Zaidi was a 40 year old poet and out of work bureaucrat. He was married to a German woman and had 2 children. At the time of his death, they were living abroad while he was in Karachi, the port city. He had been having an affair with Shahnaz Gul, a 26-year old married woman with 2 kids of her own. They moved in the same swinging high society social circle that can best be described as Pakistani version of desperate housewives and sex and the city. Even though you can still find such cocktail parties and events, they are a bit more hush-hush. The 60s and 70s were openly wild. In fact, Zaidi socialized with both Gul and her husband, who btw, with his glasses and receding hairline and features resembled Zaidi. Their affair had fizzled out around his removal from office but either he wanted to marry her or she wanted to marry him or he wanted to teach her a lesson for leaving him or she wanted to be rid of him over blackmail. Whatever the catalyst, it all led to him being dead in his bedroom of barbituate poisoning and or strangulation, while she’s found in the room next door, either pretending to be unconscious or actually unconscious. She has Librium, a tranquilizer in her stomach [as washed on page 226]. The phone is off the receiver and Zaidi’s body is entangled in the phone line. There is blood on his nose and mouth and on the bed.
This is a locked room mystery because all the latches were in place from inside. The chowkidar / guard was conveniently off duty for the day of the death. Gul’s husband brought Zaidi’s friends with him to the house to look for his missing wife. On getting no response from inside the house, all of them went back without probing further or checking inside the house. Zaidi had mental health issues, having attempted suicide twice before, once in college, and once in university, both times over being unlucky in love. He was clearly unhinged in the months leading up to his death (the fact that he had printed 3500 defamatory flyers about Gul insinuating she was a high end prostitute provides a motive for the alleged murder). He seems to have had a good career in civil service during the decade of General Ayub, the ruler of United Pakistan, i.e. East and West Pakistan. The authors ignore the politics of Ayub years. They say Zaidi was selected on merit, but I’m sure plenty of Bengali people could do just as well who were openly discriminated against. Zaidi rose through the ranks. He was posted in good locations such as Sialkot and Lahore during Ayub’s tenure, and was awarded one of the higest civilian honors Tamghai-Quaid-e-Azam, so I don’t know whether there’s a correlation here, but in Pakistan contacts matter. Once Gen. Yahya took over from Gen. Ayub, Zaidi was unceremoniously removed from his job over charges of corruption. He was one of the 300 government officers (38 of whom were civil service officers) who were dismissed (the removal and its aftermath is given on page 114). The sex scandals of these two generals, true or exaggerated, are mentioned on pages 82 and 238 respectively. On page 48, the authors generate a line about to-be PM Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s ‘patronage’ of a less than reputable nightclub Excelsior.
The journey of Zaidi’s German wife Vera is given in detail from pages 64-71, as she adapted to West Pakistan and navigated as a committed partner to a philandering husband. There’s a passage on page 69 about how a friend was told to knock on Zaidi’s bedroom before entering. The bedroom door had a sign “keep silent, God is sleeping inside.” (!!!) And a famous actress came out with Zaidi. It is heavily suggested that it was film actress Aliya. The wife seems okay with all of this.
As to the woman at the heart of the mystery, and on the book cover, Shahnaz Gul appears to be a cross between a lady of the evening, Mata Hari and a conniving socialite going to great lengths to protect her reputation and marriage. She declared herself to be of Afghan nobility, a relative of an Afghan King Sultan who back in the day long long ago in 1800s, forfeited the Koh-i-Noor diamond to the then-ruler of Punjab, Raja Ranjit Singh. She said her noble family, royalty to be exact, was exiled to Ludhiana first, and then after partition of India, to Gujranwala. This is given on page 36. The authors make no attempt to investigate the veracity of this royal fairytale. On page 44, authors speak of her beauty “Shahnaz was beautiful. She had been the most stunning girl in that horse cart of girls in Gujranwala, the most goodlooking of her sisters.” I don’t understand the need to identify her looks one way or the other. Is it because these authors believe a man would only go bonkers over a woman if she were some reputed beauty? Gul isn’t, and in this book no person who knew her says she was. She is recalled as charming, which can mean a number of things. However, Zaidi IS described as a womanizer by plenty of people, friends and foes. I don’t know how much of a standard he had. I don’t think beauty had much to do with his taste in and inclination for women and I’m just commenting on the basis of how he is portrayed in this book. Infact, in any other write-up, Gul and her husband would be called social climbers. Here, they are simply a misunderstood couple. Gul’s ever-changing statements to the police from the hospital bed, her home and before a judge are eyeopening because I believe they are full of lies and inconsistencies. Her answers are suspicious bordering on the classic ‘I don’t remember’ defense of many a criminal. She does give a zinger of a reply to prosecutor though. On page 244, he asks her in court, “It has come in evidence that after his dismissal from service, you started giving the deceased cold shoulder and finally declined even to see him and instead developed friendship with other wealthy persons like Ahmed Pirbhai,” the prosecutor asked. “What have you to say?” And she replies, “Since I was never warmly interested in the deceased,” Shahnaz replied, “the question of giving him a cold shoulder did not arise.”
She has the authors’ sympathies through and through who declare on page 257 that they believe Zaidi killed himself but that it is unclear to them whether he wanted to take Gul’s life or not. They also portray her as a heroic victim of West Pakistan, media, society and misogynisic, salivacious men. Her husband, a plumper older version of Zaidi, stood by her. And I wondered whether anyone had asked for his alibi for the 24 hours when his wife went missing because at the time that Zaidi is alleged to have died - mid afternoon - is when the husband said he had been on a school run. And he’s the one who came knocking on Zaidi’s door with witnesses to extend that alibi. He was suspicious. His statement to the police as reported in Jang daily newspaper is given on page 200.
The authors grip you with this retelling of events of Zaidi’s life, beautifully capturing the high drama, intrigue and chaos of a sensational case, his wife’s press conference at 101-105 and her opinion on his affair with Gul on page 129, Gul’s interview to a newspaper is on pages 91-93, a police constable’s brush with ghosts in a graveyard (which seemed like an attempt by him to get attention frankly) is given on page 164, wife swapping club the key club is mentioned on page 133, the elections that led to the creation of bangladesh are narrated on page 203, and an interesting angle to the Zaidi mystery is laid out between pages 222- 229 by the forensic consultant Dr. Summaiya Syed-Tariq who reviewed the case for the authors. A lot of work has been done by the authors in compiling information and it is amazing.
I found three things off-putting in this book: one is that the book has no solitary solo shot of Mustafa Zaidi while it has several pictures of Shahnaz Gul, given to the co-authors by veteran photographer Zahid Hussein from his personal archive. In a book that deals with the enduring mystery of what happened to the dead poet, he is barely there. Two miniature-sized group photos of Mustafa Zaidi are displayed: one with a friend and one with Gul. Also included is the front page of Hurriyat daily newspaper which has a few shots of him. I don’t know whether this erasure of the dead man is by choice or not but you get more clear images of the poet on the internet, either solo shots or with his family and with other poets, by just googling him.
This is a feminist retelling where authors take pains to identify all the sexist labels thrown at Gul for sensationalism and ridicule. They want to hold a mirror to society that has a problem with female choice, consent and agency.
And here is the second thing that I dislike in the book. In recounting the jet set lifestyle of the rich and powerful elites, the authors cherry pick their favorites, the ones given the pass and the ones they wish to demonize. Gul and bird-brained socialites are given a free pass by the authors, while legendary singer, actress, performer and fashion icon Noor Jehan is written about disparagingly just because of her connection to Gen. Yahya, the military head whose arrogance and actions led to the division of Pakistan and creation of Bangladesh. A fixture in Pakistani pop culture and music and playback singing from 1940s to her death in late 2000s, Noor Jehan is reduced to nothing more than being a participant in a cat fight as described on pages 240-241, a verbal sling fest that occurs between her and Gen. Yahya’s alleged pimp. Yes, pimp. An illustrated image of Gen. Yahya with Noor Jehan from a mediocre weekly magazine that nobody has heard of is reproduced here for the same scandalous effect authors lament should not have happened to Gul. In a book that does not include a single clear picture of the dead poet, an editorial decision has been made by the authors to dedicate a full page to the cartoonish campy illustration that has nothing to do with the subject of the book. It’s obvious that the authors are peddling a paper clickbait.
Stars are called stars because they are right up there in the sky, through their talent, hard work and perseverance. They are exceptional human beings. And they are more powerful than any general, president, prime minister, monarch or religious leader because all of these titled individuals are time-barred, the respect for them is limited to their tenure. They are also divisive and don’t enjoy universal fandom. Pakistan is spoken of fondly because of its artists and creative people, no matter what it’s institutions may be to a local or a foreigner. And that’s true power. That’s why creative entities are used by armed forces, by elected officials and political parties, by religious groups and by royal families to look good, relevant or personable. Their time is bought to have fun. On the other side of the coin, creative entities need patronages and sponsors to make a living or to stay relevant. I mean, one of the richest men in the world (Mukesh Ambani) has the entire Indian film industry and most of news media in the palm of his hand because he wants a soft image and they want the business and the platform. It’s about having enough skin in the game so that no one can criticize you or go against you, where you control all of the media and players in one way or another. You don’t see the sweat, the compromises or the sacrifices the artists make. I believe no celebrity or entertainer in Pakistan has been bigger than Noor Jehan. Imran Khan may be second but he is divisive. It’s a shame we don’t give credit where it’s due.
Noor Jehan lived a full life, in both a personal and professional capacity. In my view, a greater singer than her, male or female, does not exist in South Asia. The expression in her voice, the way she performed her songs, her beauty and her saris, her love life and her well-adjusted children, she had it all. She was a larger than life, self-made, independently wealthy, ambitious woman. If she had lived in India, a country that genuinely respects it’s stars, her manner of singing would be studied in Institutes, her life would be cause celebre and subject of a major motion picture, she would be given an honorary seat in the Parliament. But Noor Jehan became Noor Jehan inspite of living in Pakistan which has a topsy turvy film industry, politics, social history and lack of organized platforms for talented people.
The acerbic way in which she has been brushed off in this book by the authors is not the first time I’ve seen Pakistani media talk negatively about her. After her death, I remember Shami sahib on his Duniya TV show speak of her entanglement with Gen. Yahya as if that was the highlight of her long illustrious life. It’s great to blame a woman for the crimes of men, isn’t it? Especially when she’s in the public eye but not a public servant?
Next, a less-than-flattering portrayal of hers was generated in the Sarmad Khoosat directed TV series Manto. In it, she is played by Saba Qamar as an uncouth woman who cannot speak properly in Urdu (a racist linguistic trope that is often used in Pakistan against the Punjabis, Sindhis, Balochis, Pathans and people from the Northern Areas - everyone is considered illiterate if they don’t know Urdu). In this lame TV series, Noor Jehan’s determination to evolve and be a better singer is shown as grooming classes on how to sit, stand and talk. Her work ethic and passion for music is brushed off, not shown.
On a broader structural level, Noor Jehan’s birthday and death anniversary is not recognized or celebrated by government. Television channels don’t play her film songs or ghazals or interviews. Seminars are not held in her honor. Newspapers don’t print an article on what she meant for Pakistan and what is her place in cinema. Several youtube videos mention her in relation to the men in her life, even though she’s a bigger name than all of them combined. I am a huge radio listener, because I am on the road most of the time. I can confirm that her songs are only sporadically played on the radio and that too primarily on Radio Pakistan. FM89, operated by Dawn newspaper, once did a series on NoorJehan but that’s about it. The other radio channels ignore her music.
No true blue books, biographies or clinical assessments of her legacy have been generated in Pakistan. And it’s not like we don’t have a fat budget for literary or cultural activities. When I see Pakistanis lamenting the small-mindedness of Indian political leaders and media for banning Pakistani artists, I wonder what respect they envision for their artists in a foreign country when they don’t give a damn about their own legends.
Entertainment is a serious thing, as serious as the civil-military relations. But guess what is covered by news channels and talk show hosts? Politics and mudslinging politics.
Usually news channels and talk show hosts look down upon Pakistan’s creative people and artists. They only want to cover politics and military because they are paid sycophants? Um, no, because they think entertainment is beneath them and not a serious enough topic. I know this from my own experience working for major cable TV channels. At that time, artists were used for and dumped in shows airing on Eid because the anchors knew nobody watched television during Eid, since everyone is busy with Eid-related stuff, and they didn’t care what ran on those 3 days as content. Currently, all of the anchors have their own youtube channels and podcasts - and yet, not a single one of them interviews artists or talks about pop cultural phenomena. But they love to compare Pakistan with India. Well, India gave its highest honor, a state funeral, to Lata Mangeshkar, its legendary playback singer. What did we give to Noor Jehan? In this book, Noor Jehan deserved better, especially since the authors sound like progressive, well-educated women.
The third off-putting thing are the snide remarks the authors make about Lahore versus Karachi. This is to be expected because a certain rivalry exists between residents of the two cities, Karachiites look down upon Lahoris and Lahoris have some beef with Karachi. It’s fun till it isn’t. The authors make a very good research-based comparison between the night life and party culture of the two cities, as it pertains to the 60s and the 70s, so far so good, but in their attempt to showcase the cosmopolitan feel of the port city of Karachi, they end up calling Lahore snooty and elitist, and much more. In the book, a Lahori billionaire thinks her city is ‘provincial’, a Karachiite says Lahore is ‘shallow’. On page 44, the authors write “(Karachi) was open, free and fun. There was simply more of everything - art, writing, culture, poetry, shopping markets, a bevy of eligible men, and more glamorous women than anyone could count.” I have no idea how the authors came up with this distinction about Karachi of the 50s, 60s or even the 70s. It simply isn’t true.
I don’t want this review to turn into a culture war, but the unconscious bias of the co-authors is apparent when they mention the presumably fair-skinned Iranian Parsis and Anglo-Indians of Karachi, but not the Sindhis, as if Karachi was separate from Sindh. In fact, they clearly see the injustice meted out to Bengalis but not the second-class status given to Sindhis in Karachi. And all of this is done for what? To show cultural superiority of a people and a color and a language? No, the reason why the authors go to all this trouble to label Lahore as backward is because they feel obliged to come up with some reason for movement of Gul and her husband from Lahore to Karachi. The fact that her husband found a job with the Dawn Group of Newspapers in Karachi and that’s why the couple went to Karachi and not because Karachi was more diverse and open than Lahore, is not a good enough reason for them. They have to roast Lahore.
I feel authors were unfair in these 3 areas.
Overall, bravo to them for putting this project together.
Review on Youtube: https://youtu.be/9VQ3RIAPZ6c
I’m a fan of Saba Imtiaz’s writing. I liked her fictional ‘Karachi, you’re killing me’ which was adapted by an Indian production house as a Sonakshi Sinha starrer ‘Noor’.
Imtiaz researched for ‘Society Girl’ with her co-author Masood-Khan. Both did a two-season podcast ‘Notes on a Scandal’ on this story. The book is well-written, is a real page-turner and takes you on a smooth ride by vigilant co-author researchers.
Mustafa Zaidi was a 40 year old poet and out of work bureaucrat. He was married to a German woman and had 2 children. At the time of his death, they were living abroad while he was in Karachi, the port city. He had been having an affair with Shahnaz Gul, a 26-year old married woman with 2 kids of her own. They moved in the same swinging high society social circle that can best be described as Pakistani version of desperate housewives and sex and the city. Even though you can still find such cocktail parties and events, they are a bit more hush-hush. The 60s and 70s were openly wild. In fact, Zaidi socialized with both Gul and her husband, who btw, with his glasses and receding hairline and features resembled Zaidi. Their affair had fizzled out around his removal from office but either he wanted to marry her or she wanted to marry him or he wanted to teach her a lesson for leaving him or she wanted to be rid of him over blackmail. Whatever the catalyst, it all led to him being dead in his bedroom of barbituate poisoning and or strangulation, while she’s found in the room next door, either pretending to be unconscious or actually unconscious. She has Librium, a tranquilizer in her stomach [as washed on page 226]. The phone is off the receiver and Zaidi’s body is entangled in the phone line. There is blood on his nose and mouth and on the bed.
This is a locked room mystery because all the latches were in place from inside. The chowkidar / guard was conveniently off duty for the day of the death. Gul’s husband brought Zaidi’s friends with him to the house to look for his missing wife. On getting no response from inside the house, all of them went back without probing further or checking inside the house. Zaidi had mental health issues, having attempted suicide twice before, once in college, and once in university, both times over being unlucky in love. He was clearly unhinged in the months leading up to his death (the fact that he had printed 3500 defamatory flyers about Gul insinuating she was a high end prostitute provides a motive for the alleged murder). He seems to have had a good career in civil service during the decade of General Ayub, the ruler of United Pakistan, i.e. East and West Pakistan. The authors ignore the politics of Ayub years. They say Zaidi was selected on merit, but I’m sure plenty of Bengali people could do just as well who were openly discriminated against. Zaidi rose through the ranks. He was posted in good locations such as Sialkot and Lahore during Ayub’s tenure, and was awarded one of the higest civilian honors Tamghai-Quaid-e-Azam, so I don’t know whether there’s a correlation here, but in Pakistan contacts matter. Once Gen. Yahya took over from Gen. Ayub, Zaidi was unceremoniously removed from his job over charges of corruption. He was one of the 300 government officers (38 of whom were civil service officers) who were dismissed (the removal and its aftermath is given on page 114). The sex scandals of these two generals, true or exaggerated, are mentioned on pages 82 and 238 respectively. On page 48, the authors generate a line about to-be PM Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s ‘patronage’ of a less than reputable nightclub Excelsior.
The journey of Zaidi’s German wife Vera is given in detail from pages 64-71, as she adapted to West Pakistan and navigated as a committed partner to a philandering husband. There’s a passage on page 69 about how a friend was told to knock on Zaidi’s bedroom before entering. The bedroom door had a sign “keep silent, God is sleeping inside.” (!!!) And a famous actress came out with Zaidi. It is heavily suggested that it was film actress Aliya. The wife seems okay with all of this.
As to the woman at the heart of the mystery, and on the book cover, Shahnaz Gul appears to be a cross between a lady of the evening, Mata Hari and a conniving socialite going to great lengths to protect her reputation and marriage. She declared herself to be of Afghan nobility, a relative of an Afghan King Sultan who back in the day long long ago in 1800s, forfeited the Koh-i-Noor diamond to the then-ruler of Punjab, Raja Ranjit Singh. She said her noble family, royalty to be exact, was exiled to Ludhiana first, and then after partition of India, to Gujranwala. This is given on page 36. The authors make no attempt to investigate the veracity of this royal fairytale. On page 44, authors speak of her beauty “Shahnaz was beautiful. She had been the most stunning girl in that horse cart of girls in Gujranwala, the most goodlooking of her sisters.” I don’t understand the need to identify her looks one way or the other. Is it because these authors believe a man would only go bonkers over a woman if she were some reputed beauty? Gul isn’t, and in this book no person who knew her says she was. She is recalled as charming, which can mean a number of things. However, Zaidi IS described as a womanizer by plenty of people, friends and foes. I don’t know how much of a standard he had. I don’t think beauty had much to do with his taste in and inclination for women and I’m just commenting on the basis of how he is portrayed in this book. Infact, in any other write-up, Gul and her husband would be called social climbers. Here, they are simply a misunderstood couple. Gul’s ever-changing statements to the police from the hospital bed, her home and before a judge are eyeopening because I believe they are full of lies and inconsistencies. Her answers are suspicious bordering on the classic ‘I don’t remember’ defense of many a criminal. She does give a zinger of a reply to prosecutor though. On page 244, he asks her in court, “It has come in evidence that after his dismissal from service, you started giving the deceased cold shoulder and finally declined even to see him and instead developed friendship with other wealthy persons like Ahmed Pirbhai,” the prosecutor asked. “What have you to say?” And she replies, “Since I was never warmly interested in the deceased,” Shahnaz replied, “the question of giving him a cold shoulder did not arise.”
She has the authors’ sympathies through and through who declare on page 257 that they believe Zaidi killed himself but that it is unclear to them whether he wanted to take Gul’s life or not. They also portray her as a heroic victim of West Pakistan, media, society and misogynisic, salivacious men. Her husband, a plumper older version of Zaidi, stood by her. And I wondered whether anyone had asked for his alibi for the 24 hours when his wife went missing because at the time that Zaidi is alleged to have died - mid afternoon - is when the husband said he had been on a school run. And he’s the one who came knocking on Zaidi’s door with witnesses to extend that alibi. He was suspicious. His statement to the police as reported in Jang daily newspaper is given on page 200.
The authors grip you with this retelling of events of Zaidi’s life, beautifully capturing the high drama, intrigue and chaos of a sensational case, his wife’s press conference at 101-105 and her opinion on his affair with Gul on page 129, Gul’s interview to a newspaper is on pages 91-93, a police constable’s brush with ghosts in a graveyard (which seemed like an attempt by him to get attention frankly) is given on page 164, wife swapping club the key club is mentioned on page 133, the elections that led to the creation of bangladesh are narrated on page 203, and an interesting angle to the Zaidi mystery is laid out between pages 222- 229 by the forensic consultant Dr. Summaiya Syed-Tariq who reviewed the case for the authors. A lot of work has been done by the authors in compiling information and it is amazing.
I found three things off-putting in this book: one is that the book has no solitary solo shot of Mustafa Zaidi while it has several pictures of Shahnaz Gul, given to the co-authors by veteran photographer Zahid Hussein from his personal archive. In a book that deals with the enduring mystery of what happened to the dead poet, he is barely there. Two miniature-sized group photos of Mustafa Zaidi are displayed: one with a friend and one with Gul. Also included is the front page of Hurriyat daily newspaper which has a few shots of him. I don’t know whether this erasure of the dead man is by choice or not but you get more clear images of the poet on the internet, either solo shots or with his family and with other poets, by just googling him.
This is a feminist retelling where authors take pains to identify all the sexist labels thrown at Gul for sensationalism and ridicule. They want to hold a mirror to society that has a problem with female choice, consent and agency.
And here is the second thing that I dislike in the book. In recounting the jet set lifestyle of the rich and powerful elites, the authors cherry pick their favorites, the ones given the pass and the ones they wish to demonize. Gul and bird-brained socialites are given a free pass by the authors, while legendary singer, actress, performer and fashion icon Noor Jehan is written about disparagingly just because of her connection to Gen. Yahya, the military head whose arrogance and actions led to the division of Pakistan and creation of Bangladesh. A fixture in Pakistani pop culture and music and playback singing from 1940s to her death in late 2000s, Noor Jehan is reduced to nothing more than being a participant in a cat fight as described on pages 240-241, a verbal sling fest that occurs between her and Gen. Yahya’s alleged pimp. Yes, pimp. An illustrated image of Gen. Yahya with Noor Jehan from a mediocre weekly magazine that nobody has heard of is reproduced here for the same scandalous effect authors lament should not have happened to Gul. In a book that does not include a single clear picture of the dead poet, an editorial decision has been made by the authors to dedicate a full page to the cartoonish campy illustration that has nothing to do with the subject of the book. It’s obvious that the authors are peddling a paper clickbait.
Stars are called stars because they are right up there in the sky, through their talent, hard work and perseverance. They are exceptional human beings. And they are more powerful than any general, president, prime minister, monarch or religious leader because all of these titled individuals are time-barred, the respect for them is limited to their tenure. They are also divisive and don’t enjoy universal fandom. Pakistan is spoken of fondly because of its artists and creative people, no matter what it’s institutions may be to a local or a foreigner. And that’s true power. That’s why creative entities are used by armed forces, by elected officials and political parties, by religious groups and by royal families to look good, relevant or personable. Their time is bought to have fun. On the other side of the coin, creative entities need patronages and sponsors to make a living or to stay relevant. I mean, one of the richest men in the world (Mukesh Ambani) has the entire Indian film industry and most of news media in the palm of his hand because he wants a soft image and they want the business and the platform. It’s about having enough skin in the game so that no one can criticize you or go against you, where you control all of the media and players in one way or another. You don’t see the sweat, the compromises or the sacrifices the artists make. I believe no celebrity or entertainer in Pakistan has been bigger than Noor Jehan. Imran Khan may be second but he is divisive. It’s a shame we don’t give credit where it’s due.
Noor Jehan lived a full life, in both a personal and professional capacity. In my view, a greater singer than her, male or female, does not exist in South Asia. The expression in her voice, the way she performed her songs, her beauty and her saris, her love life and her well-adjusted children, she had it all. She was a larger than life, self-made, independently wealthy, ambitious woman. If she had lived in India, a country that genuinely respects it’s stars, her manner of singing would be studied in Institutes, her life would be cause celebre and subject of a major motion picture, she would be given an honorary seat in the Parliament. But Noor Jehan became Noor Jehan inspite of living in Pakistan which has a topsy turvy film industry, politics, social history and lack of organized platforms for talented people.
The acerbic way in which she has been brushed off in this book by the authors is not the first time I’ve seen Pakistani media talk negatively about her. After her death, I remember Shami sahib on his Duniya TV show speak of her entanglement with Gen. Yahya as if that was the highlight of her long illustrious life. It’s great to blame a woman for the crimes of men, isn’t it? Especially when she’s in the public eye but not a public servant?
Next, a less-than-flattering portrayal of hers was generated in the Sarmad Khoosat directed TV series Manto. In it, she is played by Saba Qamar as an uncouth woman who cannot speak properly in Urdu (a racist linguistic trope that is often used in Pakistan against the Punjabis, Sindhis, Balochis, Pathans and people from the Northern Areas - everyone is considered illiterate if they don’t know Urdu). In this lame TV series, Noor Jehan’s determination to evolve and be a better singer is shown as grooming classes on how to sit, stand and talk. Her work ethic and passion for music is brushed off, not shown.
On a broader structural level, Noor Jehan’s birthday and death anniversary is not recognized or celebrated by government. Television channels don’t play her film songs or ghazals or interviews. Seminars are not held in her honor. Newspapers don’t print an article on what she meant for Pakistan and what is her place in cinema. Several youtube videos mention her in relation to the men in her life, even though she’s a bigger name than all of them combined. I am a huge radio listener, because I am on the road most of the time. I can confirm that her songs are only sporadically played on the radio and that too primarily on Radio Pakistan. FM89, operated by Dawn newspaper, once did a series on NoorJehan but that’s about it. The other radio channels ignore her music.
No true blue books, biographies or clinical assessments of her legacy have been generated in Pakistan. And it’s not like we don’t have a fat budget for literary or cultural activities. When I see Pakistanis lamenting the small-mindedness of Indian political leaders and media for banning Pakistani artists, I wonder what respect they envision for their artists in a foreign country when they don’t give a damn about their own legends.
Entertainment is a serious thing, as serious as the civil-military relations. But guess what is covered by news channels and talk show hosts? Politics and mudslinging politics.
Usually news channels and talk show hosts look down upon Pakistan’s creative people and artists. They only want to cover politics and military because they are paid sycophants? Um, no, because they think entertainment is beneath them and not a serious enough topic. I know this from my own experience working for major cable TV channels. At that time, artists were used for and dumped in shows airing on Eid because the anchors knew nobody watched television during Eid, since everyone is busy with Eid-related stuff, and they didn’t care what ran on those 3 days as content. Currently, all of the anchors have their own youtube channels and podcasts - and yet, not a single one of them interviews artists or talks about pop cultural phenomena. But they love to compare Pakistan with India. Well, India gave its highest honor, a state funeral, to Lata Mangeshkar, its legendary playback singer. What did we give to Noor Jehan? In this book, Noor Jehan deserved better, especially since the authors sound like progressive, well-educated women.
The third off-putting thing are the snide remarks the authors make about Lahore versus Karachi. This is to be expected because a certain rivalry exists between residents of the two cities, Karachiites look down upon Lahoris and Lahoris have some beef with Karachi. It’s fun till it isn’t. The authors make a very good research-based comparison between the night life and party culture of the two cities, as it pertains to the 60s and the 70s, so far so good, but in their attempt to showcase the cosmopolitan feel of the port city of Karachi, they end up calling Lahore snooty and elitist, and much more. In the book, a Lahori billionaire thinks her city is ‘provincial’, a Karachiite says Lahore is ‘shallow’. On page 44, the authors write “(Karachi) was open, free and fun. There was simply more of everything - art, writing, culture, poetry, shopping markets, a bevy of eligible men, and more glamorous women than anyone could count.” I have no idea how the authors came up with this distinction about Karachi of the 50s, 60s or even the 70s. It simply isn’t true.
I don’t want this review to turn into a culture war, but the unconscious bias of the co-authors is apparent when they mention the presumably fair-skinned Iranian Parsis and Anglo-Indians of Karachi, but not the Sindhis, as if Karachi was separate from Sindh. In fact, they clearly see the injustice meted out to Bengalis but not the second-class status given to Sindhis in Karachi. And all of this is done for what? To show cultural superiority of a people and a color and a language? No, the reason why the authors go to all this trouble to label Lahore as backward is because they feel obliged to come up with some reason for movement of Gul and her husband from Lahore to Karachi. The fact that her husband found a job with the Dawn Group of Newspapers in Karachi and that’s why the couple went to Karachi and not because Karachi was more diverse and open than Lahore, is not a good enough reason for them. They have to roast Lahore.
I feel authors were unfair in these 3 areas.
Overall, bravo to them for putting this project together.
Review on Youtube: https://youtu.be/9VQ3RIAPZ6c
February 5, 2025
Society girl is like no other genre i have read yet ..its a very gripping kind of a book it clings to you ... you just can not put it down untill .. really have to (you know what i mean)
So this book is about the girl shahnaz gul the girl.on the cover of the book .. she is a society girl of pakistan .. wife of saleem ..she is popular among the high society because of her beauty and her aura that she carries with her self ...
She is a talk of town in karachi
The second one whose death is the reason this book happens to be is mustafa zaida ... he is famous poet married to vera a german woman.. who is known as a great man nd well known for his poems nd literature knowledge.
Now the catch is mustafa is dead .. nd when he was found who they found unconscious lying on the floor in the same room as his dead body .. it was Shahnaz Gul (yes...)
How did he died...??? no one knows ..
Who killed him... ?? No one knows...
What was the motive...?? No one knows ...
What's the role of shahnaz in all this..?? No one knows...
What was she doing there ... why was she unconscious... why the room was so out of place ... ???
So many whyyy whatss howsss whenss ....
But who has the answers?????
This book uncovers the secrets of all these questions (may be /may be not)
But it beautifully potray the place of women in society in 1970's ... and how they were objectified ....
The news coverages of the political situation of pakistan adds the cherry on the top .. the announcement of making of bengal and what not
This book is a fabulous read i was on grip all through the book
So...
.
*Will i suggest this book*
Oh yess!
.
*Genre* - Murder Mystery, Non fiction, Political
.
*Ratings*- 4.5
.
HAPPY READING
So this book is about the girl shahnaz gul the girl.on the cover of the book .. she is a society girl of pakistan .. wife of saleem ..she is popular among the high society because of her beauty and her aura that she carries with her self ...
She is a talk of town in karachi
The second one whose death is the reason this book happens to be is mustafa zaida ... he is famous poet married to vera a german woman.. who is known as a great man nd well known for his poems nd literature knowledge.
Now the catch is mustafa is dead .. nd when he was found who they found unconscious lying on the floor in the same room as his dead body .. it was Shahnaz Gul (yes...)
How did he died...??? no one knows ..
Who killed him... ?? No one knows...
What was the motive...?? No one knows ...
What's the role of shahnaz in all this..?? No one knows...
What was she doing there ... why was she unconscious... why the room was so out of place ... ???
So many whyyy whatss howsss whenss ....
But who has the answers?????
This book uncovers the secrets of all these questions (may be /may be not)
But it beautifully potray the place of women in society in 1970's ... and how they were objectified ....
The news coverages of the political situation of pakistan adds the cherry on the top .. the announcement of making of bengal and what not
This book is a fabulous read i was on grip all through the book
So...
.
*Will i suggest this book*
Oh yess!
.
*Genre* - Murder Mystery, Non fiction, Political
.
*Ratings*- 4.5
.
HAPPY READING
January 16, 2026
The investigation of the murder was well-researched, and kudos to the authors for all the archival research. I can empathize with how much of a pain it is in Pakistan.
The murder and everything related to it could have been a long-form piece. However, what makes the book worth a read is their detailed analysis of the murder against the backdrop of society in the 70s in Pakistan, a critical period in our history. Overall, its worth a read.
The murder and everything related to it could have been a long-form piece. However, what makes the book worth a read is their detailed analysis of the murder against the backdrop of society in the 70s in Pakistan, a critical period in our history. Overall, its worth a read.
February 14, 2025
Society Girl is primarily the story of an individual who was trapped by circumstances and then forced to answer for the collective sins of the high society in a trial that was followed by the entire country. As far as the events surrounding the 2 main characters of the story (Mustafa Zaidi and Shahnaz Gul) are concerned, the narration felt superfluous as the story went on. The choice to write Mustafa Zaidi's poetry in roman script made for a difficult reading, and would have come off much better in persian script. However, the contextual translations of the poems in English proved to be a wise choice.
What this book does manage to pull off incredibly well is the preservation of an important element of Pakistan's history, which is Pakistan's high society and Karachi's nightlife of the 60s and early 70s. The comparison between the elite circles of Lahore and Karachi, followed by the introductions of the Karachi socialites and their degree of acquaintance with the main characters provided an essential reminiscing of a time that has been wiped away from the collective memory of this country. The authors, however, make sure not to fully romanticize that era, and shed light on how a seemingly well-educated and progressive portion of the society hypocritically ostracized just a single person in a situation where there were at least two guilty parties. The authors also do a great job in highlighting the vain and tone-deaf coverage given to the events of this book by the West-Pakistani media when the other half of the country was on the verge of breaking away.
This book is perhaps not the best representative of the true crime genre, but it serves well as a time capsule of an era largely forgotten, and for a country that is seriously lacking in books/films that preserve its cultural/social history, Society Girl is an essential read.
What this book does manage to pull off incredibly well is the preservation of an important element of Pakistan's history, which is Pakistan's high society and Karachi's nightlife of the 60s and early 70s. The comparison between the elite circles of Lahore and Karachi, followed by the introductions of the Karachi socialites and their degree of acquaintance with the main characters provided an essential reminiscing of a time that has been wiped away from the collective memory of this country. The authors, however, make sure not to fully romanticize that era, and shed light on how a seemingly well-educated and progressive portion of the society hypocritically ostracized just a single person in a situation where there were at least two guilty parties. The authors also do a great job in highlighting the vain and tone-deaf coverage given to the events of this book by the West-Pakistani media when the other half of the country was on the verge of breaking away.
This book is perhaps not the best representative of the true crime genre, but it serves well as a time capsule of an era largely forgotten, and for a country that is seriously lacking in books/films that preserve its cultural/social history, Society Girl is an essential read.
December 25, 2024
This book is a look at not only the suicide/murder of mustafa zaida, a paksitani ex civil servant + poet VS shahnaz gul (a society girl) but also the elite pakistani society up till the early 70s. In the backdrop are many moving parts: lahore and khi's elite holding parties at homes and at fancy clubs && newspapers craze for salacious gossip often at the expense of East pakistani news. Its a true crime book with a poignant social commentary.
Though by the end, you do feel shahnaz was rightly exonerated and maybe mustafa, a depressed man, took his own life over the rejection, there is a case to be built that someone in shahnaz's circle suffocated a drugged mustafa to get rid of someone who had been threatening shahnaz. The 2nd theory seems unlikely but its a fascinating one.
Lastly, its an easy read esp if you are a fan of true crime. It would be an interesting question to ponder how this case would be handled today: the authors postulate there would be more acceptance of shahnaz and more acknowledgement of the mental issues plaguing mustafa.
What i found fascinating was how much salacious gossip appeared on pak newspapaers front pages such that parents had to hide newspapers from children.
In the end, shahnaz lived a long life (died in early 2000s) and her daughters thrive to this day. the night clubs and sale of alcohol were disallowed by the late 1970s bringing the "public" aspect of khi nightlife to a close. "Private" gatherings continue to this day. Mustafa's daughter also continues to live with her family abroad and keeps visiting PAK. Mustafa, whatever his obsession with shahnaz, was an honest bureaucrat and a wonderful poet.
Hope shahnaz and mustafa are finding peace wherever they are.
Though by the end, you do feel shahnaz was rightly exonerated and maybe mustafa, a depressed man, took his own life over the rejection, there is a case to be built that someone in shahnaz's circle suffocated a drugged mustafa to get rid of someone who had been threatening shahnaz. The 2nd theory seems unlikely but its a fascinating one.
Lastly, its an easy read esp if you are a fan of true crime. It would be an interesting question to ponder how this case would be handled today: the authors postulate there would be more acceptance of shahnaz and more acknowledgement of the mental issues plaguing mustafa.
What i found fascinating was how much salacious gossip appeared on pak newspapaers front pages such that parents had to hide newspapers from children.
In the end, shahnaz lived a long life (died in early 2000s) and her daughters thrive to this day. the night clubs and sale of alcohol were disallowed by the late 1970s bringing the "public" aspect of khi nightlife to a close. "Private" gatherings continue to this day. Mustafa's daughter also continues to live with her family abroad and keeps visiting PAK. Mustafa, whatever his obsession with shahnaz, was an honest bureaucrat and a wonderful poet.
Hope shahnaz and mustafa are finding peace wherever they are.
May 24, 2025
Book Name- “Society Girl”
Author- Saba Imtiaz
Publisher- @rolibooks
Genre- Crime/History/Thriller/Mystery
.
“It is better to be poor and respectable rather than live comfortably but dishonourably.“
.
The novel, which is set in the rigid environment of Karachi in the 1970s, tells an enthralling story that blends love, obsession, and fellow pressure. Society Girl is a horrifying mystery that also gives out a mirror to society’s fake standards, narrated with the pacing of a chilling and the complexity of a sociological study. Imtiaz and Khan’s painstaking investigation is a proof as they observe not only the crime but also the cultural factors that influenced how it was recognised, ranging from the sensationalist media to the intricate class and gender politics of the time. A detailed description of life, society, politics, human nature and history of a complicated time in Pakistan’s history. It’s extensive research and interviews with authentic sources that have led to the book. Murders are movie material, but true crime reminds us of the frailty of human existence, the shortcomings and failings of evolution. Media and family unrelenting, the evidence of sex, extra-marital affair and murder rocked the conservative society. Under the dark clouds of suspicion and outrage, Shahnaz Gul was tried for murder. From an innocent victim to an alleged murderer, the slander changed her life. Fifty years later, journalists Saba Imtiaz & Tooba Masood-Khan dive into the historical records in search of truth. Five years of research and the result is Society Girl: A Tale of Sex, Lies and Scandal. a saga of obsession, revenge, power plays, and unanswered questions that captivated and divided public opinion for decades.
Review- ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Author- Saba Imtiaz
Publisher- @rolibooks
Genre- Crime/History/Thriller/Mystery
.
“It is better to be poor and respectable rather than live comfortably but dishonourably.“
.
The novel, which is set in the rigid environment of Karachi in the 1970s, tells an enthralling story that blends love, obsession, and fellow pressure. Society Girl is a horrifying mystery that also gives out a mirror to society’s fake standards, narrated with the pacing of a chilling and the complexity of a sociological study. Imtiaz and Khan’s painstaking investigation is a proof as they observe not only the crime but also the cultural factors that influenced how it was recognised, ranging from the sensationalist media to the intricate class and gender politics of the time. A detailed description of life, society, politics, human nature and history of a complicated time in Pakistan’s history. It’s extensive research and interviews with authentic sources that have led to the book. Murders are movie material, but true crime reminds us of the frailty of human existence, the shortcomings and failings of evolution. Media and family unrelenting, the evidence of sex, extra-marital affair and murder rocked the conservative society. Under the dark clouds of suspicion and outrage, Shahnaz Gul was tried for murder. From an innocent victim to an alleged murderer, the slander changed her life. Fifty years later, journalists Saba Imtiaz & Tooba Masood-Khan dive into the historical records in search of truth. Five years of research and the result is Society Girl: A Tale of Sex, Lies and Scandal. a saga of obsession, revenge, power plays, and unanswered questions that captivated and divided public opinion for decades.
Review- ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
October 27, 2025
I love paradoxical themes in books, especially those that combine scandalous events like the death described in this book with the political dynamics, in this case, that of Pakistan; correlating the regimes of Yahya and Zulfiqar with Mustafa Zaidi’s death made total sense in this regard. As a former civil servant himself dismissed from duty, and neglecting to work on derogatory terms, which eventually dismissed him from his service, Mustafa had it all turn against him.
Insights into how the media deliberately overshadows events like elections and other atrocities through making cases like these mainstream media was also very eye opening to read about. And even while doing that, instead of over exaggerating this by terming it a scandal, why not just dig deeper into the events that lead to his death? Our jurisdiction, ffs…
Then, there’s obviously the toxic love element. You resorting to revenge and violence when someone you dearly love is gradually slipping out of your grasp. When the love between you both is a one way stream. When one party wants to take things to the next while, while the other wants to keep it ‘low-low’, if ykwim.
And then, you’re an artist. A poet. You get vision, so you print controversial photos of your mehboob. Nude ones, at that. Artistic rationale? Who knows. Acts like these are more of a display of your negative sentiments towards someone.
Lastly (even thought there’s a lot left to say still), events that lead of the resignation of Yahya, tension between PPP and the Awaami League that lead to the separation of East Pakistan in 1971 after the General Elections, and Bhutto’s greediness towards sharing the government, all were events other than the plot that had me hooked throughout this roller coaster of a journey.
Insights into how the media deliberately overshadows events like elections and other atrocities through making cases like these mainstream media was also very eye opening to read about. And even while doing that, instead of over exaggerating this by terming it a scandal, why not just dig deeper into the events that lead to his death? Our jurisdiction, ffs…
Then, there’s obviously the toxic love element. You resorting to revenge and violence when someone you dearly love is gradually slipping out of your grasp. When the love between you both is a one way stream. When one party wants to take things to the next while, while the other wants to keep it ‘low-low’, if ykwim.
And then, you’re an artist. A poet. You get vision, so you print controversial photos of your mehboob. Nude ones, at that. Artistic rationale? Who knows. Acts like these are more of a display of your negative sentiments towards someone.
Lastly (even thought there’s a lot left to say still), events that lead of the resignation of Yahya, tension between PPP and the Awaami League that lead to the separation of East Pakistan in 1971 after the General Elections, and Bhutto’s greediness towards sharing the government, all were events other than the plot that had me hooked throughout this roller coaster of a journey.
January 14, 2025
Devoured the book in just two days! As someone who loves watching true crime series, I haven’t explored many books in the genre, but Society Girl was an eye-opener. I wasn’t familiar with Mustafa Zaidi or Shahnaz Gul before reading this, and the book not only introduced me to them but also highlighted how deeply patriarchy and misogyny are ingrained in our society. It’s a stark reminder of the enduring gender and power dynamics that have shaped societal narratives.
The role of the press throughout this case was infuriating, to say the least. The relentless scrutiny of Shahnaz by the press and society, while Mustafa’s questionable past and indulgences were conveniently overlooked, speaks volumes about the double standards women face. Men can often escape judgment, no matter their actions, but women are held under a microscope. That said, Shahnaz’s ability to maintain a lavish lifestyle and secure the best criminal lawyer, despite her husband being unemployed, adds an intriguing layer to the story and raises questions that remain unanswered.
What I particularly enjoyed was the detailed insight into Karachi’s elite lifestyle in the 1970s—a world we’ve only heard whispers of before. Mustafa’s death, whether a murder or suicide, remains a mystery, but the book’s thorough research and exploration of all possible perspectives were impressive.
Overall, it’s a fantastic read that sheds light on a dark chapter of history while reflecting societal flaws that, unfortunately, still resonate today.
The role of the press throughout this case was infuriating, to say the least. The relentless scrutiny of Shahnaz by the press and society, while Mustafa’s questionable past and indulgences were conveniently overlooked, speaks volumes about the double standards women face. Men can often escape judgment, no matter their actions, but women are held under a microscope. That said, Shahnaz’s ability to maintain a lavish lifestyle and secure the best criminal lawyer, despite her husband being unemployed, adds an intriguing layer to the story and raises questions that remain unanswered.
What I particularly enjoyed was the detailed insight into Karachi’s elite lifestyle in the 1970s—a world we’ve only heard whispers of before. Mustafa’s death, whether a murder or suicide, remains a mystery, but the book’s thorough research and exploration of all possible perspectives were impressive.
Overall, it’s a fantastic read that sheds light on a dark chapter of history while reflecting societal flaws that, unfortunately, still resonate today.
December 17, 2024
When Pakistan’s former civil servant and charismatic poet Mustafa Zaidi was found dead in his bedroom, the whole of Karachi was in shock and this shock was tremendously escalated when it was disclosed that he was not alone, but Shehnaz Gul, a married socialite, was also found in the next room unconscious, most supposedly drugged.
What unfolded next was a series of lies, scandals, and gossip intertwined with connections to politicians, the government, and some other big names.
This true crime book is maybe one of the first non-fiction that holds your attention in a way that you keep turning pages, like in a thriller or mystery novel. I enjoyed reading this. But still, the way this book ended didn’t answer all my questions.
I can’t really put that up as a disappointment because it’s a true crime, and what the authors presented were mere facts and investigations of how could be ended in any way other than reality.
But unfolding this ages-old case from 1970, and writing a book on it, I suppose authors were aiming for a very high investigation that might pave its way to answering the questions that have been stayed for so long in the minds of many Pakistanis, but the writers missed their aim. Overall, a nice indulging read, if you are a fan of true crime, but it would have been even better if the length of the book was shortened.
What unfolded next was a series of lies, scandals, and gossip intertwined with connections to politicians, the government, and some other big names.
This true crime book is maybe one of the first non-fiction that holds your attention in a way that you keep turning pages, like in a thriller or mystery novel. I enjoyed reading this. But still, the way this book ended didn’t answer all my questions.
I can’t really put that up as a disappointment because it’s a true crime, and what the authors presented were mere facts and investigations of how could be ended in any way other than reality.
But unfolding this ages-old case from 1970, and writing a book on it, I suppose authors were aiming for a very high investigation that might pave its way to answering the questions that have been stayed for so long in the minds of many Pakistanis, but the writers missed their aim. Overall, a nice indulging read, if you are a fan of true crime, but it would have been even better if the length of the book was shortened.
March 12, 2025
Society Girl is an investigative reporting about the suspicious death of a poet and civil servant in Pakistan in the 1970s. But, more than a True crime investigation, it is a loud question-mark on the society in general and it's approach to its women.
Why were the authorities not more focused on the investigation itself instead of the woman rumored to be involved with the man found dead.
Why was the press more interested in every aspect of Shanaz Gul's life, the lady in question, instead of holding the authorities responsible to conduct a more thorough investigation.
Why was the society in itself more hell bent on shaming this woman, while simultaneously looking at every aspect of her being, every movement of her life, instead of wondering why a civil servant and respected poet might have felt the need to make the choices he made.
Why was mental health, stalking, weird behavior from the man never brought into question as against the moral character of the woman.
All very very important and relevant question.
Why didn't I give the book more stars? With all due respect to the diligent work and investigative reporting carried out, I wish the writing were tighter, the narrative better-paced and overall the events were covered in a less meandering and repetitive manner.
But otherwise, a story that needed to be said to ask the questions that still need to be asked.
Why were the authorities not more focused on the investigation itself instead of the woman rumored to be involved with the man found dead.
Why was the press more interested in every aspect of Shanaz Gul's life, the lady in question, instead of holding the authorities responsible to conduct a more thorough investigation.
Why was the society in itself more hell bent on shaming this woman, while simultaneously looking at every aspect of her being, every movement of her life, instead of wondering why a civil servant and respected poet might have felt the need to make the choices he made.
Why was mental health, stalking, weird behavior from the man never brought into question as against the moral character of the woman.
All very very important and relevant question.
Why didn't I give the book more stars? With all due respect to the diligent work and investigative reporting carried out, I wish the writing were tighter, the narrative better-paced and overall the events were covered in a less meandering and repetitive manner.
But otherwise, a story that needed to be said to ask the questions that still need to be asked.
December 15, 2024
I never thought I’d enjoy reading a non-fiction book, but here we are!
This book isn’t just about a true crime case—it’s also a window into 1970s Pakistan. It strips away the polished image we often imagine and dives deep into the reality of privilege, power, and the damage caused by irresponsible journalism.
Since the people involved were real, not fictional characters, I’ll keep my personal feelings about them to myself out of respect. That said, there were a few I absolutely despised, but I won’t name names.
The book is not just about a murder scandal. It also highlights how deeply misogyny and patriarchy are ingrained in our society—modernity and elitism don’t erase them, no matter how much we might think they do.
The case itself was fascinating, and the way it unfolded kept me hooked. The media’s choices—prioritizing what would sell papers over what truly mattered—still feel relevant today.
Saba and Tooba did an exceptional job with "Society Girl". They left no stone unturned, and their storytelling transported me back to that era. I felt like I was witnessing everything firsthand, anxiously waiting for the final verdict. This one’s a must-read!
This book isn’t just about a true crime case—it’s also a window into 1970s Pakistan. It strips away the polished image we often imagine and dives deep into the reality of privilege, power, and the damage caused by irresponsible journalism.
Since the people involved were real, not fictional characters, I’ll keep my personal feelings about them to myself out of respect. That said, there were a few I absolutely despised, but I won’t name names.
The book is not just about a murder scandal. It also highlights how deeply misogyny and patriarchy are ingrained in our society—modernity and elitism don’t erase them, no matter how much we might think they do.
The case itself was fascinating, and the way it unfolded kept me hooked. The media’s choices—prioritizing what would sell papers over what truly mattered—still feel relevant today.
Saba and Tooba did an exceptional job with "Society Girl". They left no stone unturned, and their storytelling transported me back to that era. I felt like I was witnessing everything firsthand, anxiously waiting for the final verdict. This one’s a must-read!
May 24, 2025
One of Pakistan's most notorious real-life mysteries—the passing of poet Mustafa Zaidi and the subsequent prosecution of socialite Shahnaz Gul—is revived in Saba Imtiaz and Tooba Masood Khan's Society Girl. The novel, which is set in the tense environment of Karachi in the 1970s, tells a compelling story that conflates love, obsession, and peer pressure.
Imtiaz and Khan's painstaking investigation is evident as they examine not only the crime but also the cultural factors that influenced how it was perceived, ranging from the sensationalist media to the intricate class and gender politics of the time. Society Girl is a chilling mystery that also serves as a mirror to society's false standards, told with the pacing of a thriller and the complexity of a sociological study.
History enthusiast, fans of true crime, and anybody else interested in the complex relationships between gender, justice, and power will find it to be an engaging read.
Imtiaz and Khan's painstaking investigation is evident as they examine not only the crime but also the cultural factors that influenced how it was perceived, ranging from the sensationalist media to the intricate class and gender politics of the time. Society Girl is a chilling mystery that also serves as a mirror to society's false standards, told with the pacing of a thriller and the complexity of a sociological study.
History enthusiast, fans of true crime, and anybody else interested in the complex relationships between gender, justice, and power will find it to be an engaging read.
January 7, 2025
There are infinite layers to this investigative and researched work, on the mystery surrounding Mustafa Zaidi's death, and the woman who became subject to scandal
Backdrop. background. Culture. Priorities..notes and hints about corruption and power play.
The entire work by Saba Imtiaz and Tooba Masood do not provide any judgement. They have net people, visited multiple locations, dug through archives and print to piece together as much as was possible.
It well underscores how major incidents occured, and yet scandal was everyone's escape from discussing intense matters. It leaves a present day citizen feeling a bit bereft at the weight of seeing Pakistan devolve. Society and its cultures may or may have not changed, and somehow in all this Shanaz Gul seems to have been a scapegoat at a massive level.
Backdrop. background. Culture. Priorities..notes and hints about corruption and power play.
The entire work by Saba Imtiaz and Tooba Masood do not provide any judgement. They have net people, visited multiple locations, dug through archives and print to piece together as much as was possible.
It well underscores how major incidents occured, and yet scandal was everyone's escape from discussing intense matters. It leaves a present day citizen feeling a bit bereft at the weight of seeing Pakistan devolve. Society and its cultures may or may have not changed, and somehow in all this Shanaz Gul seems to have been a scapegoat at a massive level.
January 9, 2025
Thoroughly enjoyable! Society girl keeps you engaged till the end. I personally was unfamiliar with the true crime this book deals with, and I can tell that the authors handle the case with nuance that it was never awarded originally. The book can seem a touch long- but to me this wasn’t a detractor, rather a plus, because I enjoyed reading the details on Karachi/Lahore/Pakistani society in general, and all the other Pakistani/South-Asian historic context that the book provides!
There were some unanswered questions left in the book (which is to be expected) but the most glaring one to me was where did Shahnaz Gul get the monetary means to live such an expensive society girl lifestyle, and to hire the very best of criminal defence lawyers in the city? Her husband was unemployed and at best they were middle class? This question kept coming back till the end.
Overall highly recommend!
There were some unanswered questions left in the book (which is to be expected) but the most glaring one to me was where did Shahnaz Gul get the monetary means to live such an expensive society girl lifestyle, and to hire the very best of criminal defence lawyers in the city? Her husband was unemployed and at best they were middle class? This question kept coming back till the end.
Overall highly recommend!
November 15, 2024
Murders are movie material, but true crime reminds us of the frailty of human existence, the shortcomings and failings of evolution. A saga of obsession, betrayal, glamour, and intrigue, this true crime story delves into the unresolved murder of a poet and his unrequited, forbidden love. The authors have captured the high society of Karachi well in the book. It's extensive research and interviews with authentic sources that have led to the book. It's a sad tale of human condition, obsessive tendencies and the need to feed off another person's misfortune. The book, full of scandals, gossip, glamour and intrigue, is for those interested in reading true crimes and unresolved mysteries. It is also a chronicle of political, social and cultural milieu of the 1950s-70s.
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