OBSERVERS of Asma Jahangir, usually male ones, would sometimes ask why she was so angry. From the 1980s onwards she seemed at the centre of every demonstration in Lahore or Islamabad, all five feet two inches of her, glasses glinting, gesticulating, shouting. She led marches, held marathons, set up awkward organisations, and in every way was a gadfly. Most of all, she spoke her mind. It might be in the bar room of the Lahore High Court, through a furious cloud of beedi smoke, or in court itself, dressing down judges who didn't get the point, or at a police station, still protesting. Bemused by this fierce little lawyer, the men would shake their heads.
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