Shaheed Bhagat Singh College

(University Of Delhi)
Project Work
in
Applied English
B.Com (FYUP)
Semester- II
Translation of Chapter 1
of
Dastaan Khoon Aur Shamsheer Ki
by Fatima Bhutto
Submitted To
Ms. Komal Agarwal

Acknowledgement
We would like to express our sincere gratitude to
all those people who contributed to this project.
We are immensely indebted to our teacher-incharge Ms. Komal and Ms. Imon who gave us the
opportunity to do our project on translating the I
Chapter of the book Dastaan Khoon Aur Shamshir
Ki written by Fatima Bhutto and helped us with
their valuable ideas and suggestions.
We are also grateful to our parents who were a
great help during the completion of the project
and provided us with their moral support and
guidance.
Last but not least we are grateful to every
member of the group who put in their best
efforts in the successful completion of the
project.

A
Tale
Of
Blood
And
Sword
Fatima Bhutto

December 19, 1996; it was around 3 o'clock in the morning and we were in
the drawing room. Our house was built in Abstract-Art Deco style and the
drawing room was its box shaped part with no windows. It was decorated

with brownish silk walls and Pakistani Modern Art. We had just returned
from Avari Hotel after dinner. My father's anniversary was last night
however, his friends invited us to celebrate it the next day. He was 42 years
old now. Avari was one of the best hotels of Karachi, which was set up by
Dinshaw Avari, the head of an old Parsi family. As it was Pakistani culture,
he had named this Hotel in the name of his son, Byram Dinshawji Avari. It
was not spurious like other neighborhood foreigns hotels. Those days skyhigh buildings were far away from fantasies of architects. During those days
only Avari was famous as one of the tallest building. But nowadays, to rise
above the smoke and poverty of the city, banks are in a rat race to build the
tallest building. In the mid-90's , Avari hotel boasted of running Karachi's
only Japanese Restaurant Fujiyama . We had eaten there that night.
That evening, Papa was dressed in dark blue suit. It was one of those suits,
which fitted him perfectly. Like his Father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Papa was
also quite fond of clothes. He had a gracious personality; about 63' in height,
black and white hair, and well trimmed mustaches.
After returning to Pakistan, his new social life was very busy and full of
stress and in last two years Papa's weight had increased a little, for which we
used to tease him. But he never minded, insisting that soon he would start
dieting. And we patted his belly for this.
That day, Papa had signed the Avari Hotel guest book. Supervisors of the
hotel opened it in a style and the irony was that they opened the same page on
which once General Zia-Ul-Haq made an emphatic comment. He could not
open a worst page than that. General Zia had lead that Army, because of
which my grandfather's government had been dismissed. After arresting and
torturing my grandfather for two years he eventually killed him. They say
that he was hanged but we never saw his dead body. Without notifying us and
before the news of his demise could reach the masses people, the army
quietly buried my grandfather. Papa looked at General's handwriting. He
silently read General's ideas regarding Fujiyama's finest cuisine and teased
me by making a funny face. And then he started writing after a few pages.
That night was one of the few pleasant moments that we spent there during
dinner. During dinner papa was quite silent. Papa was sitting in front of me
with his chin on twisted hands. I was a little nervous; seeing my Papa so quiet

and serious who was always happy and confident.

Two days ago, when my Papa arrived in Karachi to Peshawar late at night, he
was very calm and relaxed. He told me and Mama about his journey during
dinner. After midnight the Intercom (Land line phone) rang in the sitting
room. This time phone could be only from kitchen or office of 71 Clifton,
which was in the neighborhood; without them no one could be on the other
side of phone call. And Kitchen was nearby and Asdhar, our waiter, if he
wanted to talk us something then he could come himself at sitting room, so
this phone could be only from the Office.
Papa answered the phone immediately after the first ring, Ji?(respectfully)
Hearing the phone call for few minutes he spoke up, Hurry up,get the car
ready.
His silent mood had disappeared now. Papa put the phone down, got up and
started walking towards the door of the room which was linked to my parents'
room. What happened?, I asked. They took Ali Sonara. They raided his
home and took him away. ''Where are you going?, I asked gently. Mom
patted my back and assured me that everything will be all right. I will find
him, Papa said and went out of the drawing room.
Ali Sonara was from Lyari. It was a densely populated area that was
politically very revolutionary and was also one of the poorest in Karachi. He
belonged to a Kutchi Memon family, which was a small Sunni community;
roots of which can be traced to Rann of Kutch and Sindh's deserts (places in
Gujarat). He was in favour of 'Bhutto' family from the days of his school.
Sonara had dropped his studies after the dismissal of Zulfikar Ali's
government in 1977 and since then he became one of the most important
political activists of Lyari.
He was involved in Bhutto Bachao Samiti from his community and he
worked tirelessly against cancellation of constitution of 1973 by General Zia.
Sonara joined Movement for the Restoration of Democracy (MRD) after
the death of Zulfikar Ali by Army Government and worked along with my
Aunt Benazir Bhutto for about 10 years. He was a member of Karachi
committee in this movement and he spent most of his time distributing
pamphlets against Martial law and against the unlawful hanging of Bhutto

and in organizing secret meetings and protests to get local support.

In 1984 when monarchy of Zia was at its peak, a bomb was planted in
famous Bori market of Karachi. It was a crowded market. The market was
named after a religious Bohri Muslim community who are recognized by to
their special clothing and hats. Most of the victims of the blast were the
children and women who used to visit this market to buy clothes and
colourful domestic goods. After hearing the news of blast Ali Sonara rushed
to the market from his home in Lyari which was not too far.
He was sure that the army was behind the explosion. Bhutto's supporters
couldn't protest against it or they would have been jailed. In the worst case
scenario, the entire community would have been publicly whipped in a
stadium. General Zia had already crushed the rebellion ruthlessly and Sindh
community leader Sonara had been jailed in Karachi Jail several times for
protesting. He knew it very well that further rebellions will bring forth more
severe punishments on the rebels.
As soon as he reached the market, he started putting wounded in ambulances
and made arrangements for blood. When he was comforting affected
families, Zia's chief minister Ghaus Ali Shah arrived at the scene along with
some movie stars to survey the damage. Ali Shah held rebel army(commonly
known as terrorists) responsible for blast and promised that they will be
apprehended soon and severely punished. Sonara lost his calm as soon as he
saw Ali Shah. He ran towards him and punched him right on his face. It was
an act of frustration. The Chief minister immediately got him arrested as a
convict.
However, he was released due to lack of evidence. When Benazir Bhutto
returned to Karachi from London after a long time in May 1986, Sonara
organised a welcome party along wih major protestants, especially Ali
Hingora. At the same time Muzahir Qaum Movement(M.Q.M) was
established in Karachi by Sindh supporters of General Zia. Karachi was the
heart of operation of People's Party at that time. MQM was established as an
alternative for people's party so that when it fails, supporters could be
gathered via force. Lyari was the first region to be occupied by MQM and
this was the time of flaunting the Party's colours. Sonara took the risk. He

organised a mass gathering in a stadium in Kakri maidan. Benazir expressed

her gratitude to everybody and called Sonara, her chief bodyguard, her
brother. Benazir was new in integrated party politics at that time. She wanted
to accomplish every goal necessary to propel her to power. So she deeply
trusted Sonara. Sonara was a young leader who organised mass gatherings
throughout the city. He was also the chief security officer of Bhutto and
accompanied her everywhere. As a member of Karachi committee, Sonara
was centre of PPP's public politics and played an important role in Benazir's
victory in elections.
But Sonara was becoming a hurdle for her post-elections. His younger
brother and my father were causing troubles for her from outside the country.
When Benazir was constituting her 1st cabinet on advice of her husband Asif
Zardari, Sonara's sharp retorts were irritating her. Hostility between Sonara
and Bhutto was clearly visible in a party meeting of 71 clifton. Sonara was
against favouring industrialists and capitalists of Pakistan and Benazir
couldn't tolerate any criticism directed at her. At last she ordered him to
behave as she is the party head.
However, Sonara replied that as a member of party he has complete right to
advice her against doing anything wrong. When Benazir's goverment
collapsed in 1990, Sonara went underground. He had made many enemies.
Powerful party members had sidelined him from the party which he
established against military dictatorship. He came out from hiding when
general elections were declared in 1993. When my father filed nomination for
election Sonara joined his election campaign. Benazir always feared this was
going to happen.
That night Ali Sonara visited Sima and Inayat Hussain two loyal veterans of
PPP. Sima Hussain was former labour minister and had joined the party
during leadership of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and. She even worked with Benazir
for a while but when party priorities changed to money and power she left it.
Sima too joined my father' party (which was established in the name of
'Shaheed Bhutto' in 1995 as a reform movement) as a leader in the women
wing.
People living aroud Lyari started facing all types of troubles for protesting

against government. Sonara started living with Hussain family with his wife
Sakina and his two kids to evade police. But they ultimately found him. They
entered the house without warrant and arrested Sonara. Sakina informed our
70 clifton's office of this incident. Sonara made some calls from the phone in
the house which were being tapped by police thus compromising hi location.
Sakina was completely distraught and repeatedly asked where they took him
and what would they do with him.
I remember my father immediately leaving the house but my mother kept her
calm. I followed my father in the drawing room and tried to stop him. It was
already past midnight, couldn't he wait till morning. He didn't need to leave
immediately. I tried to dissuade him but he replied, Fati i should be with my
supporters this time. I started crying. He requested me to let him leave. I
gave my attempts and went to my mother for comfort. We were standing on
the doorway when my father left in dead of the night.
Karachi is often cosidered one of the most dangerous cities of the world.
With a population of 160-180 million this city was underdeveloped and poor.
Law enforcers were corrupt, violent, misused there authority and there image
in public was very bad. In 1990, during the second tenure of Benazir, the
extra judicial deaths were on rise. The string of political murderers was made
within the police force. They could be identified by alias of dramatic
codenames. And in the guise of a clash, it was a common thing for police to
shoot their targets. To find Sonara, my father had to pass through such a city
at night.
Papa first of all went to the centre of CIA which was situated near Lee
Market of Karachi Garden Area. It is beside the commercial hub of Lyari and
Karachi, made in old colonial style. After reaching police station, my father
directly went to the duty officer. According to the releasing news of that time
period the arrest order of Sonara was from CIA. If this arrest was not
unlawful then official papers containing proper details about the date, time,
place and charges should have produced before making the arrest. But despite
the request of my father, there was no proof presented associted with police
custody of Sonara.
Papa and his guards who always stayed with him in Karachi. They left the

CIA Garden for the police station of SSP- South, which is on minimum
distance from Lee Market and few steps above in the list of strongest police
station the charge of which was in the hands of a notorious senior SP whose
name was Wajid Durrani.
It was 2 o clock in the morning. As the time passed by, it was very tough to
know about the arrest and news of Sonara. The police of Karachi was famous
as an army of hirelings. And is well known for its unlawful activities. If there
is no warrant, it means that the dead body is found in a garbage or nearby any
road, then there is no government accountability. When my father reached the
SSP- South police station, it too just like CIA Garden was almost
unoccupied.There was no one else other than a Pathan Assitant
Superintendent, sitting behind a bench. Papa went near the bench. As a
selected member of parliament, papa had the right to go to any government
office; be it an hospital, school or ministry. Where is the record of arrest of
Sonara?, he asked again. The Assitant Superintendent replied raising his
shoulders. I dont know.
My father again repeated the question. Later on, he told me that when he saw
the officer slowly putting his hands on the drawer under the bench and
pulling it, there was no sound of swishing of paper or toddling of a pen.
There was nothing except a pistol in the drawer, which papa and his guard
had feared.Get up. Papa screamed and pulled the collar of the police
officer.Tell everybody DIG, IG and SSP too. I won't return till I see the
warrant for arresting Ali Sonara . If he is in danger, then all of you are too.
They also went to one other police station CIA station of Napier Road. But
they returned home without any incident. It had been two hours since they
left home.
The trap had been set up. My father who was very hasty and had a loose
temperament had done, what they expected him to do. Till next noon, we saw
the first tank standing in front our house.
18 September was the 42nd Birthday of Papa. As I woke up in the morning, I
went down to find him. I hardly slept last night. Whole night I was in worried
about the arrest of Ali Sonara, and about the result of papas midnight
activities following the arrest. As was guessed, next day the news about the
intrusion of papa in many of the police station was published in all the

newspapers. There was no reference about the unlawful arrest of Sonara and
about the involvement of police in his disappearing. Papa spent the day
waiting for the report of Ali Sonara and we waited for the birthday party
which was going to happen in the evening.
That noon, when papa was getting ready for the evening, I went to talk to
him. He was polishing his shoes. He was in a habit to do the little chores of
his daily routine very neatly whether it was to arrange books, pens or to
put cups in the cupboards or to polish his shoes in the evening he did
everything in a very special way. Papa, can I ask one question?. I asked it
by putting my hand on the door. He saw me and smiled, ask anything
Fatuski. He said using my Russian name.
Is mom my legal guardian? I asked with a tremble. Papa was still smiling
He was working around the stand of polished shoes beside the bed and
almirah. Yes, of course, but why are you asking this question? I dont know
why I asked. This thought never came to my mind before. I only knew that if
anything happens to my father, I wanted to be safe. Papa, are you hundred
per cent sure that after you, mom will be my legal guardian. I forced papa.
Papa put down his things and came to me, he put his hand below my chin,
pull my face towards him, Dont worry, Im sure, and kissed my forehead.
We both knew why I was asking this. When my father divorced my real
mom, I was only three years old that time Fauziya. I hadn't see her for
many years. My father raised me from my childhood, from making food for
me to cutting my hair, to carry me to school, all the work was done by him,
for me. I had the feeling of having a mother when he met Ginva after my
fourth birthday. Papa are you completely sure that you are right? He said
by nodding, yes. Then can you give me the document that can prove
this ?
Papa laughed loudly and removed his hand from my head. From where I
have learned to be eccentric. He asked me, Yeah Yeah, I have the
documents. Do you want them right now?
No, I said. I only wanted to assure myself that you really have them.
The celebration started in the evening and ended very soon. Many friends
came with fruits, sweets and funny cards. For the whole evening I just sat

beside my father in our velvety drawing room. In the dining room mom
served the food in the exquisite silver plates belonging to my grandfather
Shahnawaz's time. We had mid-eastern 'Meze', 'Tabbouleh' and roasted
mutton. For a moment we felt as if we were in our Damascus house, safe and
away from the dangers and violence of Karachi. But it was not so. Now and
then papa went up to the phone, to get the whereabouts of Ali Sonara but in a
very quiet way.They did not want to scare us, or even trouble us. We were not
getting any information. And worst of all, the government was preparing a
case against my father.
There were a few small explosions; small crackers were burnt near the
industrial areas and the government offices. There were no any reports of any
casualties. It was however a very stressful situation. The evening newspapers
carried various depositions by many government officials that it was the
P.P.P, S.B and my father behind these explosions.
We saw another tank in the evening, which was stationed right behind
the first one. By the next morning there was a third one on the right side of
the house. It was blocking the offices of Number 71, Clifton. Two days later,
on 20th September, 4 fully armed vehicles were stationed on all four corners
of the house. We were surrounded.
~~~
Do you have any regrets in life? I asked my father. It was evening.
We had returned from the gloomy Avari Hotel. He was sitting in his green
chair, resting his arms on the armrest, keeping one foot over his other. He
ruffled his hair with his fingers, like he often did when he was in deep
thought. No, he said, turning towards me, I have fought with the
government that killed my brother and my father, and for that I feel proud.
Wherever we failed, we failed, but I have not let this go without a fight. We
opposed with our full might, and I will do it all again, if need be. Saying
this, he leaned back into the chair. We spent the rest of the time with small
talk. For a little while, we forgot everything else and just spent the night
cracking jokes; we were lost in our own world. Father was making fun at my
Mother, and she was laughing with him. They were carefree and one question
from me brought them harshly back to earth.

You should write a book, I said. He lifted his arms above his head and
laughed loudly. As long as I am alive, I will not be able to write anything.
They wont let me write what I know
What do you mean? You have to do this! I exclaimed. You have to write a
book based on your life papa, it would so interesting. But he laughed again
and said, this time slowly, No I cant write that. Can you do that for me?
You will write a book based on my life.
He smiled at me. Father had a beautiful spirit that neither I nor any other
grown person had ever seen. His life was filled with dangers and
uncertainties, yet he never forgot to smile. I immediately picked up a pen and
paper with the intention of writing a few introductory notes. Not now, he
said, write it after Im dead. I was devastated. Why, why should I write it
after your death? The hopelessness of the past few days creeped upon me
again. The situation is now more dangerous than before, he said, looking at
me. His eyed were sad. I did not know then that he was having the same
feeling of uncertainties that I was having for the past many days.

~~~
It was Saturday, the 20th of September.
By evening, my father would be dead.
Our house was bustling with activity in the morning. The servants were
busy making food. Mother was busy preparing for the party for my brothers
6th Birthday, which was to be held the next day. We had decided the hold the
party in the Sindbad Amusement Park. It was only 10 minutes away from our
house. During the 1970s, this was built as a casino, but with the permission
of Islam, it was converted into a park.
After staying for almost two years in that room, it was being
redecorated. Sometime during the 70s, both of my aunts spent their carefree
youth in this room. My father woke me up in the T.V room upstairs. During
the 1965 wars, this room was used as a shelter from the bombings.
I got ready, and went to look at the progress made to renovate my room.
My parents had a small fight as to who gets to decorate my room. The tried to
sway me with promises of a disco ball right in the middle of the room. They
almost succeeded too. Because their decision was completely rubbish. My

mother knew that I liked green and feminine decorations, whereas my father
knew nothing about this. He still thought of me as an eight year old tomboy.
we can have swinging doors like they have in American Saloons. No
father we cannot have that here. Oh sure, then lets install those circular
windows similar to submarines. No, just the disco ball is enough.
We entered our room, which was completely white. It was only the first
layer of paint, and apart from an iron cot and two small tables, which were
stacked one top of one another, the room was empty. The room was looking
like a hospital ward, it was very clean.
Right! So I bet you are happy with your mothers designs. He began
chuckling. He looked like a school child whenever he laughed like that.
There were crinkles on the corner of his eyes. He had brought a few stained
glass windows from Sindh. They were orange, blue and green in colour, but
Mother did not allow him to install them anywhere in the house. In truth, they
were pretty rubbish. But I had taken my fathers side by saying that they were
indeed very beautiful to look at. And as a reward, I ended up with them. They
had been installed already and the sunlight streaming through the stained
glass drenched the whole room in colours. Father came out of the room with
me. While we were descending the stairs, he said quietly to me, At least the
windows look good.
My father called a press conference at two in the afternoon.
Journalists from the local newspapers and various reporters from T.V
channels assembled in the press room of 71, Clifton.Papa entered the room
and sat behind a table and addressed the press conference. Beside him, were
sitting Ashique Zatoi, the president of Sindh branch of the party and Malik
Sarwar Baagh, an elderly member of P.P.P (S.B). Papa was wearing a dark
blue salwar kameej and it seemed almost black and he wore a locket
containing two pointed sword of Hazrat Ali. Hazrat Ali was a disciple of
Mohammad Pagamber who became the first imam of Shia Islam. Papa wasnt
religious but he respected Hazrat Ali since he fought for the rights of
Muslims when they were in minority and under threat. The sword was small
and golden with written word lailla-h-illallah which means there is Allah
but no god. Papa used to wear a watch in his left wrist which was given by
his father.

Papa called Yar Mohammad and Sajjad to speak to them before speak
to press. These men were his bodyguard. They were political workers but
they do not left his side when he came from jail. They protected him as like
their own father and they were always close to him. He had information
from the police. Papa explained. He said Yar Mohamed and Sajaad to leave
Karachi. Go wherever you want no matter but I dont want to see you and
your family nearby from today. We dont know what they did with Sonara but
I want to see both of you safe until the facts are revealed. Yar Mohammad
and Sajjad will not be going to Surjani city along with papa after press
conference. I can't risk your life , he said. Conditions were too dangerous to
take a chance. They do not ask about the information about their risky lives
and what it means but papa insists that they have to leave city today at all. No
more discussion.
There was pin drop silence when papa started the press conference.
The newspapers were full of reports of Papa visiting various police stations.
Some true some not . On 18 September, General Naseerullah Babar, a
powerful interior minister of Benazir, (who reffered the Talibanis of
Afghanistan as 'my boys') announced that there were going to be two big
bomb blasts as a protest against the arrest of Ali Sonara. He made it clear that
the preparators of violence were from either M.Q.M or the Shaheed Bhutto
party. As was expected, after the blasts, the government blamed my fathers
party for the blast. On 20th September, all the journalists were eager to hear
about the facts about the blasts from Murtaza Bhutto. The forecast of General
Babar was the headline of all the newspapers, papa said.
Papa began his statement. This is all preplanned conspiracy against
me by police officers like Wajid Durrani and Shah Beig Shuddal. The rumour
was that both the notorious officers achieved high ranks because of their
close relationship with Benazirs husband. Shuddal was the district inspector
of Karachi and Wajid was the senior superintendent and one of the head of
the police stations where my father visited on 17 th September. But papa
mispronounced the name of one person, it wasnt Shah Beig Shuddal, it was
Shoaib Shuddal. We wouldnt forget his name forever.
These both men wanted to kill me under the supervision of Abdullah

Shah, the chief minister of Sindh. Papa explained. My life is in danger at

present. I want to appeal to the government through this press conference that
I'm ready. Bring a warrant accusing me and my party workers and Ill myself
come with you. And in fact my fathers packed briefcase was by the side of
his bed since the night of 17th September.
I have been accused by the police of visiting the police stations. I want
to make it clear to clear to them that I am an elected MLA and it is my right
to enter any government office. At this papa lifted the picture of Ali Sonara. It
was a photograph of one of the Benazirs jalsa. She was standing up with her
head and shoulder out of the jeep and waving to the entire crowd around her.
Some of the people were standing of all side for her protection. They were
her bodyguards. Sonara was circled in the picture. Papa pointed in the picture
and said that the government took this man. The interior minister
Naserrullah Babar said that there would be a blast after Sonaras arrest and
for this either M.Q.M or shaheed Bhutto party are responsible. If he had such
information earlier then what did he do to protect or to stop such blast. There
was nothing to do since it is the punishment for P.P.P (S.B). The interior
minister knew this all because it was their plan. I want to tell the government
that we are a political party and we'll protest against these unlawful arrests
and executions in a political way. We are not going to hide at all. We are
ready. It is not my style to hide behind my political workers when in trouble.
I am in the front and they are behind me.
In the next room of press conference in 70 Clifton, we had lunch and
then for the preparation of Zulfis birthday celebration, we left for the sea
view. When my mom and I returned, papa was looking in a hurry walking in
the lobby. Press conference was over. Ashiq Jatoi was standing nearby the car
waiting for him. I ran towards father to talk to him but he looked tense and
was in a hurry. I'm late, I have to go . He said stroking my back and moved
towards the wooden doors. I said papa wait'. Let me change, I also want to
go with you. I had only climed two stairs; he stopped me by gently grabbing
my elbow. No Fati, you cant come with me, the conditions are not good.
Stay here, Ill be back soon. I just stood on the stairs and looked at him
walking out of the door and shutting it.
As papa walked towards the car, he saw both Yar Mohammad and

Sajjad . I told both of you not to come with me.' The threats to them were
serious. They were closest person to my father and papa used to depend on
them a lot.
How can we leave you in such a situation ? said Yar Mohammad,
And if the situation is as serious as you are saying then our place is beside
you rather than our homes. continued Sajjad. They could not be convinced
in any way. Papa called the guards and warned them that if police tries to
arrest him on his way to the jalsa, they must surrender peacefully and let
them show the warrant and he will go with them. Everybody nodded in
affirmative. They had understood.
Four cars departed from 70 Clifton, that Friday. Ashiq Jatoi was on
driver's seat of a Blue Land Cruiser, Papa beside him and Yar Mohammad
exactly behind him and with them were Asif Jatoi, Ashiq's driver and a
servant who used accompany Papa on his trips. A pick-up truck with six
people was in front of them consisiting of papa's bodyguards Mehmoud,
Qaisar, Sattar Rajpar, Rahim Barohi and two others. A white Alto car was
also there just beside Papa's car. There were three people in it, two of them
had come for the jalsa and Sajjad. Sajjad insisted on the Alto to go beside
Papa's car so that in case of any mishap it could act as a cover. In the end was
a white Pajero which belonged to a gentleman. He was not a Party worker but
was a well wisher and had come for the jalsa.
The journey till the town of Surjani, which was outside Karachi, was
quite long, thanks to the traffic of Karachi. The little caravan of papa towards
Surjani was now on the road to Las bela of Balochistan. While going from
Clifton they went past The Teen Talwar which are three swords made out of
marble. Reaching to the sky they have Unity, Faith and Discipline engraved
on them. They would have passed through the Saddar and its markets
especially Zainab Bazar where one would find women's garments and
Romper suits for children hanging outside the shops. After that they would
have passed through the cooperative market near the Zentila Mens Tailors,
through the Head Post Office of Karachi and then, electronics market where
one would find cheap electrical items. The last moments of my father's life
were beautiful. He would have passed through the tomb of Qaide-E-Azam
Jinna. In the north the caravan which now had become of thirty-five cars

passed through the Guru mandir. This locality was once famous for an
ancient hindu temple but now is known for its shattered bus stand used by
people to go in and out of the city.
At around 6 p.m. Papa's bodyguards passed through the tawdry
marriage halls which were located on the periphery of Surjani town. Surjani's
boundary started from the police post of a dusty square. From there circling
towards the streets one would pass through the flyovers and concrete bridges
but there were no fast food restaurants, fruit shops and malls with big cars.
In the town you would find dry bushes beside roads with waste poly
bags latched onto them. Papa was moving towards Yusuf Gauth , a good
locality on the border of Surjani town. He was supposed to address a poorer
section of people there. Many party workers warned Papa about going to
Surjani. In august he had a major jalsa scheduled in Lyari. Malik Sarvar
Bagh was speaking so emotionally that it was hard to understand his words.
Everybody tried to explain to Meer Sahab , Don't do the jalsa in Surjani.
Lyari gave you a grand welcome just like your father had received. Why do
you bother about a small town like Surjani ? But papa didn't postpone it. He
had already promised Maqbool Channa, one of the most devoted party
worker from Yusuf Gauth.
A huge crowd of around 2,000 people had assembled in a large
ground. Papa came out of the car and saw the police force deployed there.
There dilapidated cars parked just outside the quarter. Qaiser remembers that
police had 20 mobile units and trucks meant for carrying prisoners. Although
they were just standing behind the stage doing nothing besides staring at the
people, assembled there to listen to Papa, in an attempt to scare them.
At first Papa went to the new office of P.P.P. (S.P.) for minorities
with Yusuf Gill which was opened by Gill himself. Papa and Gill were
having a little chat while walking towards the office accompanied by excited
supporters shouting slogans like Here comes, Bhutto. Murtaza ,Leader of
workmen, Murtaza,Leader of the poor. The new office was formally
opened by cutting the ribbon and after taking a little walk in the new office
Papa hoisted the party flag on the silver pole in front of the office. On the
way to the stage papa suddenly stopped. It was time for the evening namaaz,

Azaan had started and the sun was setting off. It was not the voice of
muazzin but the sight of dusk which got his attention. He called Siddique
who was a cheerful partyworker cum photographer to capture the sky which
was looking really beautiful at that moment and papa also said that he will
always remember this.
He moved up to the stage waving his hand towards the crowd. Some
women welcomed him with jasmine and rose flowers on the stage. Ashiq
Jatoi who was recently elected as the party cheif in Sindh was greeting the
other party workers who had come to congratulate him.
Papa was still standing, meeting with other women who were
introducing their children and themselves.