31st December, 2007
I'm Very Sad.....
A familiar
face is gone … and one grows accustomed to a face...
I’m
feeling pain in a totally unexpected way.
I didn’t
think it would affect me like this… Perhaps because I never thought it could
happen.
It's one
of those things you can't imagine, because she was one of those people you
can't imagine it happening to.
I've been
trying to put my finger on it since then, and I've finally got it.
Benazir
Bhutto was alive.
She was SO alive, you couldn't think of her being otherwise.
And there
you have it.
Watching her film-clips on TV during these three days of mourning, and taping some of them, I see it most when she's moving about in a crowd or just being informal with people.
The mobility of her face, the spontaneity of her smile, the upward tilt of the head and eyebrows…
Watching her film-clips on TV during these three days of mourning, and taping some of them, I see it most when she's moving about in a crowd or just being informal with people.
The mobility of her face, the spontaneity of her smile, the upward tilt of the head and eyebrows…
The speed
of her step, the quick gesture of her hand...
Her
physical self and her mind come across vividly as a complete and vibrant whole.
It's like
a calamity for it to be stilled.
She was so clearly not just a politician, but a person – and a personality.
She was so clearly not just a politician, but a person – and a personality.
Watching the news programmes and old snippets is
like a journey back in time. There have been such strong associations over the years, since the Bhutto days
of the early 70's.
My
parents, returning to their country from England
after many years, worked in POF
Hospital , Wah at the
time.
[My
mother, Dr. Sughra Hameed Asif, Consultant Neuro-Psychiatrist and my father,
Dr. S.D.Asif, Consultant Surgeon.]
They liked
what they saw of the charismatic Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and hoped he would make
good changes in the country. They liked the fact that he was modern, wanted
social reform, and was a cultured man. My mother liked his wife, Nusrat Bhutto,
too.
Election
days, and TV programmes were shown day and night. The hugely popular Shoaib Hashmi
show, “Such Gupp”, was on.
Little jewels of humour, read out news-reader
style, much of it making fun of the political scene, and performed with such
poker-faces…All the other skits were brilliant too. There’s never been anything
to match it since.
My
father’s new favourite was on – Zia Moihuddin – with his show. His frilly
cravats and flamboyant shirts in rather startling contrast to the high-class Urdu
poetry and prose he always read out.
Singers
with their ghazals – Iqbal Bano singing Faiz, Fareeda Khanum with something
romantic. Habib Wali Mohammed with his deep voice, so evocative of those days…and
my mother’s favourite, Tasavar Khanam with
“Sub Ton Soniye”, and a special way of
wrinkling her nose that my mother, who sang, could never quite imitate…
All this, interspersed with bits and pieces from folk singers who I found incredibly
funny at the time, with their rustic voices, costumes [especially the dhotis]
and instruments. But I later fell in love with them…
We were
overjoyed with old re-runs of “The Rogues” from the 60s. What a combination of
actors ! David Niven, Charles Boyer and Gig Young, each one more roguish than
the last, with the regal Gladys Cooper keeping them in check.
We slept
on the sitting room floor for those two nights, and our parents would wake us
up whenever an episode came on. A high treat.
Bhutto as
Prime-minister.
My father getting
more and more fond of him… enjoying his passionate speeches and fearless style.
I’m remembering Benazir from old TV
news in those days, and how she could be seen often with her father. One
particular time in Simla, wearing a saree, and meeting Indira Gandhi.
And that's another reason why my mother kept a soft spot for Bhutto.
Growing up in the thirties and forties, she
and her sisters had been brought up in a liberal yet disciplined way by a
father who loved and respected them. They adored him in return.
So anyone who
gave his daughter the respect Bhutto did was okay in my mother's eyes...
There were
hot arguments my father would have about him in those days with others... And
more temperate ones between my mother and friends.
Ridiculous
lines she would get in answer to questions .
Q. “Don’t
you want to see the standard of living improve for the poor?”
Ans. ‘Oh,
don’t worry about them. They’re used to it.’
Q.
“Shouldn’t they have coolers in summer and heaters in winter?”
Ans.
“Don’t worry. They survive. They’re used to it.”
Q. “How
can they be, if so many die of heatstroke??”
Ans. Don’t
worry. They’re used to it.”
Im glad to
say my parents continued to practice "socialism", [they were used to it] and saw
their poorer patients free.
Life here
being what it was in those days, where anyone well-to-do thought you were [literally]
mad if you went to a psychiatrist, only the poor went to consult my mother, so she had
hardly any private practice.
Interesting
when you think of it, that these poor people, many of them factory workers’
families or uneducated villagers, had the wit to see a psychiatrist. [Maybe
Bhutto did inspire them…] While those who were educated and well-off missed
out, due to the “stigma” of being seen anywhere near the “mental” place…
My mother
satisfied herself by spending quality time with each of her cases, and stirring
up taboo subjects and obsolete religious customs in her patients families,
often succeeding in getting concrete things done to change their lives for the
better. [Her old patients still remember her.]
Some of
the other idiotic things some people would say:
"How
can you like Bhutto? He's a socialist.
The
Chinese are
socialist...and atheist!!!
socialist...and atheist!!!
Are you an
atheist???”
My
mother's answer:
"For your information, all the prophets
you believe in were socialists. They all wanted to reform society and make it
better. Thats what socialism means.”
[Horrified
looks cast at my mother.]
[Blasphemy!!!?]
But people
couldn’t get the better of my mother on the subject of religion. She was very
learned on any subject she chose to get into, going about this one as a scholar
as well. She read the Koran like a text book, pen in hand, making notes in the
margins.
She was
horrified to see how many people did NOT read it with a translation…and they
didn’t know Arabic either !
Another
question she would get was:
“So why
don’t YOU help the poor instead of animals?” [We were known animal lovers.]
Her reply:
A quote from one of the prophets about people not doing their duty if even one
dog went hungry in their town…
She would
also say:
“What
makes you think I can’t help BOTH… And by the way, instead of throwing lavish
wedding parties, why don’t YOU give the money you'd normally spend on weddings
and dowries to the poor, instead of grudging me the little I do for animals.
[who have every right to eat too anyway. It was their planet first… ]
[More
horrified looks.]
“But
Sughra, what will people say? There HAS to be a dowry!!!”
Then of
course there would be the double-take about the reference to animals, and some
religious remark about Adam and Eve being on the planet first of all.
Then my
mother would really have fun. Her hero being Darwin and one of her favourite
subjects evolution.
Oh dear,
oh dear!
“Sughra!!!”
[If my
father was around he wouldn’t be able to resist being REALLY wicked…]
He would get very emotional about Bhutto,
and people had to be careful around him. If they weren't.......watch out!
He could be quite as colourful in his
words, as Bhutto was in one of his more boisterous speeches…
And just as explosive too. Milder
tempered friends had to sit through some awkward evenings…
Which reminds me of one of Bhutto’s
“shockers”….
I don’t remember what had happened,
but Pakistan and India
were a little upset with each other over something and it showed in the public
speeches.
One day Bhutto was addressing a crowd
and, on the subject of India ,
yelled out,
“ Oh Indira Gandhi…! “
“ Oh MAI !! “ [a slang word for women,
often used for domestic help ]
My goodness how the public loved that.
How my father chuckled in delight, and
how my mother clucked in disapproval.
I remember feeling vaguely horrified,
wondering what would happen next.
[I don’t remember what did…]
My father stayed committed to Bhutto.
And my mother, though worried by some things, stayed loyal too.
They were both devastated by his
death.
I'm just glad they didn't live to see
Dec. 27th 2007.
Now, just three days after Benazir’s
murder, as someone who was a more or less objective observer before, it’s as
though I’m feeling what they would have felt.
As though I have somehow become them, and am grieving for three...
Its really strange, as if I can feel their pain so palpably, and have become some sort of medium reliving their memories of old times.......
As though I have somehow become them, and am grieving for three...
Its really strange, as if I can feel their pain so palpably, and have become some sort of medium reliving their memories of old times.......
They were so happy when Benazir
was due to come after Zia ul haq's death. And I'll never forget the night of
her first election win......
We sat in front of the TV with
handwritten charts all night through morning, noting down each win carefully.
My mother would drop off now and then,
and wake up with a start saying, "Jeet gayee??" [has she won?]
When they realised they were ravenous,
one of them would dash off to make the quickest thing - double fried eggs on
toast, and tea. [Their favourite, NOT mine !]
It was quite an event.
And how my father treasured the inauguration tape that I made for them, with Benazir dressed in striking emerald green.
And how my father treasured the inauguration tape that I made for them, with Benazir dressed in striking emerald green.
I dont think anyone expected me to get
so involved in it...and they were all very surprised.
Not having been born in Pakistan ,
I had no bond with it and no interest at all in the two main obsessions here -
religion and national [ and ethnic] identity.
Restrictive stuff. Barriers all round!
I just couldn’t understand why so many
people I knew seemed to be so blocked by these two things, and had total blind
spots where they should have been able to clearly see the problems created by them.
But their wheels would stay stuck in
their tracks - immovable.
Even now, although many say they are much
more open in their outlook, I see that same old subjectivity, and inability to
take on those hurdles.
The fear of actually changing
something seen as “religious” is so ingrained in them…like the misguided
“respect” they can’t shake off for those with beard\headscarf who behave as if
they are better than anyone else.
[For me, it was the free and easy, folksy
ethnicity that caught my attention. The music, handicraft – anything ancient or
rustic…I couldn't get enough of it.]
I didn't like politics or politicians either.
Certainly not after the whole monstrous Khomeini\Zia experience.
And most of the others seemed like
nothing better than stuffed or dead fish.
But since I was actually living here,
the dangers lurking in these murky political waters hadn't escaped me. I was
actively taking an interest after Zia to make sure the religious right-wing
element didn't sneak back in again to circle, like so many sharks.
Besides, I had hopes of Benazir, as
she was the only one who seemed different from the rest.
When she began her term, I remember my
first reaction - being irritated that she covered her head. Knowing it was symbolic
for mass appeal, still, it upset me that she couldn’t just be “herself”. That
she already seemed to be making compromises to keep the opposition quiet.
Then I’d be happy when she let the
veil slip off her head, and didnt care that it stayed off for a while, as if to
show them that it was no big deal.
It was nice seeing her a la Fatima Jinnah
in a gharara for formal occasions. That was a nice touch.
Then the frustration set in.
Every time she tried to do something
different, she would be blocked, by a stupid and ranting opposition, until
nothing new ever seemed to be happening.
To the last though, my parents always
defended her.
My mother would have this little
episode every time she talked politics with one of her relatives or friends who
was in the other camp.
They would do some name-calling,
blithely forgetting that my mother was not of the same opinion.
She wondered why others always took it
for granted they could be as rude as they wanted with her favourites, without thinking
at all about her feelings.
She would then do some name-calling of
her own. Politely though, as she wasn’t going to pick a fight. But she had the
satisfaction of shocking the others into [temporary] silence.
Benazir’s term was short-lived, and then she was out.
Twice.
Alternated by the left over Zia people
I couldn’t stand, who had been in the opposition. [Led by Nawaz Sharif]
Later on, there was a long period of time after her two terms when she was in
The more formal and stylized and rather "put on" one, as
with BBC interviewers when talking about any international topic. Or the more
sarcastic, hard-hitting style when it was about politics here.
I liked her sense of humour when she
talked.
And there was no doubt that whatever anyone
said against her - she talked well,
whatever the subject.
Reminds me of how she appeared at one time in
the 70s as compere on a talk show called “Encounter”. She was very efficient and
you could tell she was good in the role of leader.
I still remember a dress she wore. One
of those batik-style kurtas with embroidery on it. Since TV was black and white
I don’t know what colour it was….but it wouldn’t have been dull.
One thing
that gave me a strange connection with Benazir, was the way, 20 to 15
years ago, people used to nudge each other and look at me, saying I looked
vaguely like her as she had been in the 70s .
[Yes, I got that often.........due to the facebones and straight shoulder-length hair with fringe...]
[Yes, I got that often.........due to the facebones and straight shoulder-length hair with fringe...]
Most recently,
I was enjoying watching re-runs of her recent return to Pakistan .
Coming down the aeroplane steps, wearing a bright and interesting mixture of tailored jacket and chiffon.
Looking more soft and ethnic, rather than starched, with the simple hair and pretty pink glittery "gota" armband showing.
Coming down the aeroplane steps, wearing a bright and interesting mixture of tailored jacket and chiffon.
Looking more soft and ethnic, rather than starched, with the simple hair and pretty pink glittery "gota" armband showing.
Seeing her pause for a moment, and the
look on her face......
It was touching.
It was touching.
At that point I was glad she was
returning and I thought,
"Maybe this time around she'll
make it...and manage to keep the others at bay."
[The thought of Nawaz Sharif, and all the other pro-Zia, pro taleban lot, was not a happy one. During his earlier tenures, he had gradually turned himself into a religious autocrat pretending to be a democrat. Any sudden whim and who knew what you'd see or hear next day. There always seemed to be a threat in the air…especially directed at women.
I think the worst was that under his so-called democracy, the shameful hudood ordinance and blasphemy law [also zia-left overs] were not thrown out.
Every time the opposition tried to remove these
laws, they were pushed further in, entrenched more firmly than ever. [And of
course when Benazir’s people had tried earlier they were completely drowned out
by the religious groups egged on by Sharif. ]
Lawyers
and judges should all have resigned THEN, in those days. Civil rights activists should have done
everything THEN, that they are doing now !
There
should have been a civil disobedience THEN.........!!!
In fact
the logical thing should have been to automatically remove anything from the
constitution that was put there by Zia ul haq AND the discriminatory
anti-Ahmadi amendment put there by Bhutto [who was trying to keep the support
of religious parties.]
It’s a bit
late now to talk about "democracy." It really is a mystery to
me how so many people can sit in their armchair TV talks and be so virtuous and
smug about it all now, when they didn't do it before!
Have they all forgotten the way those miserable laws, as well as so many other
restrictive things, were nurtured in those days by this “democrat” Nawaz Sharif?
That just because he was “elected”, it was okay?
And why
does everyone forget the way his party hooligans stormed the supreme court in
their day?
They’re fine
ones to lecture others now about defending judges and judiciary……
I was so
relieved when he and his brother were sent out with a swift kick from an army
boot.
And then under that same army boot, how things changed.....
And then under that same army boot, how things changed.....
Maybe the
technical term was not "Democracy” but who cared, when we'd seen how that
word had been used as nothing but a hollow symbol... with actual ruling and
law-making going on as a past-time for a chosen few.
But after
‘99, life was normal again. You felt you
could breathe and the constriction in the throat was gone. TV channels were
liberal, music and dance, art and drama all came back in full swing.
[Again…people forget that…]
It seemed things were going well.
And then
the elections of 2002. The arrival of the religious MMA on the scene....And I
knew something was horribly wrong.
Everything
was still as free as before, [my rude letters were printed in the papers] things
carried on as normal since ‘99.
But there
was that big fat ugly threat again. [I say this literally.] And a big fat WHY?
Since
then, I have had no clue as to the direction Gen. Musharraf has been taking.
On one
hand showing his secular side but on the other, letting the bearded ones loose.
I was just
glad that he never let them actually do anything to the existing status quo.
Unless of
course you count the constant threat of new religious laws in NWFP, where the
MMA ruled. The burning of cassette shops and the threatening of barbers there.
Not to
mention the growing trend of acid-throwing on womens’ faces by “religious” men.
The
ranting and raving they were allowed to get away with. Screaming reactions from
them in the NA to any movement made against those same loathsome old laws!
A long
list goes on……… starting with growing militancy and bombings, and ending with the
whole red mosque business.
Why was it
all allowed to get to that point!?
In recent
days, it seemed like a good idea that Musharraf and Benazir were talking about
future co-operation.
I could
visualise them working together somehow. She would have someone behind her to
battle the same old opposition. And he would have someone secular around for a
change.
But then,
everything seemed to be going wrong!
What on
earth was happening?!!!
I was in
I just
could not take it in. It HAD NOT happened!
You could
see little clusters of people with serious looks on their faces, either in
front of TVs or on the streets. Many standing alone, using mobile phones.
It had,
indeed, happened.
We left
I switched
the TV on, still in disbelief, and sat down glued to it. Slowly it came to me that
what I saw and heard was reality.
Next day watched it over and over again.
Next day watched it over and over again.
And then
funeral and family scenes.
Seeing my
mother's photo in the same room with me and talking to it as if she was there.
Thanking goodness every time I looked at it that my parents had not seen this
day. Yet with an uncanny feeling as though they were in the room, watching
through my eyes.
Getting
bad chest pain...thinking it could be due to a new medicine I had started. Or
was it the agitation of a parent manifesting itself in me......
Hardly
sleeping much, as steroids I'm on have turned me into an insomniac. I'm on this
treatment which is helping a scary and undiagnosed condition in my right inner
ear, called "Sudden, sensory-neural hearing loss".
One of the
other side effects of the steroids is an “Enhancement of Feeling”, or
“Heightened Awareness”…Could that explain some of this strangeness involving my
parents?
Or is my
inner ear playing tricks on me ........? Maybe this fault in it has opened up
some new dimension of communication in my brainwaves with those long gone. Who
knows?
For now, I
can’t get enough of the news programmes and old film-clips, and I know the
shimmer has gone from the political seas…
There was one gilded inhabitant of those seas, with a
zest for life and a purpose in her direction. She gleamed one last time in all
her bright colours, rose up on the crest of a wave…and was suddenly, brutally, swallowed
up by the unseen sharks circling in the dark waters below.
As for
me…… I CANNOT get used to the fact that this familiar face is gone forever.
On my own
behalf, and my parents’………I CANNOT come to terms with the loss of Benazir
Bhutto.
For my parents' sake, I’ll end
with the two lines shown on TV again and again during these days of official
mourning. I think they would have got a kick out of them, and I remember those
old days most every time I hear them. It’s a tiny snippet of Benazir in a rally,
wearing bright yellow, a flower garland round her neck, and chanting at the top
of her voice in true Bhutto style:
“Kal bhi
Bhutto zinda tha,
Aaj bhi
Bhutto zinda hai…”
Noshe Lynn