Yusuf Khattak: A Frontier Leaguer

by Zeenath Jahan

My father died on the 29th of July 1991.

These words were not easy to write. The finality of death strikes with its full intensity, only when a loved one passes away, and my father was dearly loved by all who knew him.

Muhammad Yusuf Khan Khattak, my father, was born in Ooghi, (District Hazara) on 18th. November 1917. His father named him `Yusuf' because he said he was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen. My Grand-mother remembers that within minutes of his precipitous birth, he followed the lantern-light as it moved around the room.

All his life he had the same attitude of following the light, whether of truth, beauty or destiny. He was an optimist, and his optimism never failed him, even in the darkest hours of his life.

My father is on record as an honest and principled politician, who never wavered from his party, The Muslim League, in his fifty years of political life.

Yet, he was a difficult man to understand and to really get to know, because he was complex in his simplicity. I always found it hard to understand how a man of the world, could not comprehend why people are often liars and sometimes evil!

He was the worst judge of character, often trusting people and frequently making the wrong choices; as he was blind to the wickedness in others. When he put his trust in anyone, that person could do no wrong; and when he lost faith, that person could do no right!

I believe that like King Lear, he eventually died of a broken heart; when he could no longer deny the truth that was forced on him so brutally; that the hand that had stabbed him in the back, and sold him for `thirty pieces of silver' belonged to none other than the one he loved best and had put all his faith and trust in. They call it Senile Dementia in the medical books.

My father fought the last battle for his dignity, when the doctors put a catheter on him and forced a feeding-pipe down his throat. They held him down, screaming obscenities, and did to him what they had to do. The fight went out of him after that, and he waited quietly for the liberation of death.

Almost two years before he died, quoting Pushkin, he told me that he would rather die than lose his mind. His wish was not granted, as the tragedy of the disintegration of a great mind was already in progress.

He was brave and rash in his fight for The Right and The Good. He fought on, unconcerned and uncaring, when his closest comrades deserted him in the thick of battle, the battle for democracy. My father was unwavering in his principles, supremely impervious to the forces unleashed by political oppressors. He was a Statesman, with none of the smallness of mind and vision that mark many politicians of our country today.

Next to his family, the country that he had worked and fought for was his greatest passion. I have yet to come across anyone who could match his patriotism. When he was bed-ridden and very sick we spoke to him of Pakistan's need of him, her most distinguished son. We knew that if anything, his country's need of him, could pull him out of the apathy that he had sunk into. We were not wrong, "Pakistan Zindabad" was always his reply; even though, by then, he did not know his own children!

One of my earliest memories of my father of him gathering us around him, (with the first one to get there on his lap), to read poetry aloud to us. He often had us in tears when he read Stephen's poem of `The Rabbit in a Snare', or `The Last Testament of a Dying Soldier'. I still have the Bang-e-Dara from which he used to read out Iqbal's poems to us. Listening to his rendering of Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa was an experience in a class of its own!

My father was in the habit of writing out verses and quotations that caught his fancy, he christened the notebook with Urdu and Persian verses `Atish-Qada'. Going through the earlier `Atish Qadas' is like reliving his emotional history. All the pain, the heartbreak and triumphs of his sensitive soul are laid bare by his choice of verses. He bequeathed all his `Atish Qadas' to me as he said I would value them the most.

He was always gentle and caring. I remember, once when my brother shot a squirrel and showed it proudly to my father. The hurt and pain on my father's face, and the lecture on the right-to-life of all God's creatures ended my brother's short-lived career as a fearless hunter!

Though a kind master, he once landed a well-deserved box on a servant's ear. He couldn't sleep that night for the guilt. The next day the servant was almost in tears when his Khan begged his forgiveness. His humility had won him a slave for life!

My father had a passion for plants. The ever-blooming bougainvillea was his favourite. I remember once when we were walking in the garden, an old gardener was pottering around, watering the plants. In passing, my father remarked that the old man had just got out of prison after serving a 14-year sentence for murder. I was horrified to hear that he had employed an ex-convict, and a murderer to boot! When I remonstrated, my father gently explained that the man had worked for him before he had committed the murder, and then, almost absentmindedly he added,

"It was a good murder", as though to exonerate the man. This description was too much for me!

What do you mean by a good murder? A murder is a murder, there is no such a thing as a good murder or a bad murder,' I said. Thoughtfully, looking into an archaic, primeval distance, my father answered that the old man had taken revenge for the murder of his brother, which was why it was a `good' murder. Aghast, I stared at him and realized that the Oxford education had not eradicated the Pathan code of honour. The soft spoken, sophisticated Gentle-man before me was not all that he seemed to be!

I think that was when I was first confronted by the contradictions in my father's character that made it so hard for anyone to really understand him.

Yes, he was gentle and kind; but, he could also be unforgiving to the point of callousness. Yet, it was not callousness that kept him from seeing another person's point of view, it was simply a blind spot in an otherwise intelligent and compassionate man.

I never heard my father raise his voice in an argument. He simply put forward his point of view. When he realized he was wasting his time, he would put an end to the discussion, as good natured as possible; but his opinion of the other's intelligence took a nose dive. After that, nothing could convince him that the other was not a complete idiot. But, when he was angry, even a full-blooded African lion could take lessons from him in cowing down its victim by a single, mighty ROAR!

To call my father an aesthete would be an understatement. He loved beauty in every shape and form, and filled his house with beautiful things. He had a great collection china, Gardner, Iranian carpets and of paintings by Gulgee, Safdar, Chughtai, Zubaida Agha, Raheel, Laila Shahzad, and many, many more. Safdar's painting of a Mohenjo Daro dancing girl was his favourite. It always hung on the wall opposite his bed, as he wanted it to be the last thing he saw before going to sleep, and the first when he awoke. He often said that he felt she was about to dance right out of the painting.

My father was the best dressed man I have ever met. Even at home he dressed in a three-piece suit. It used to irritate him if, on seeing his sartorial elegance, anyone asked him if he were going out,

"I dress for my own pleasure!" would be his curt reply.

He had rows upon rows of shoes, stacks of shirts (mostly grey) and innumerable suits. He once said it made him feel ashamed to own so many clothes, but he always found an excuse to buy more!

My father always used the same cologne, he said he wanted it to be his `signature', always associated with him. At one time, when the cologne that he had always used was not available anymore, he set about an earnest search for a new fragrance that was `him'!

One of the earliest signs of his illness was when he lost his sense of smell and stopped using colognes. He said that if he couldn't enjoy the perfume there was no need to use them anymore.

My father could be humble, yet he was also arrogant. He fought for the freedom of the nation, yet was an authoritarian at home. I can almost feel his horror at being called `arrogant' and `authoritarian', but then, it was he who encouraged me to be objective and honest in thought, word and deed.

He once told me that a character in a novel reminded him of me, he said it laughingly and slightly apologetically. Intrigued, I borrowed the book, and was appalled! Did he see me as that horrid, opinionated, self-righteous female? I quarrelled with him over it; but, I have often caught myself (sometimes just in time) while being most opinionated and self-righteous. So, thank-you Daddy, I don't believe I thanked you for the mirror you so wisely put up for me. It still rankles sometimes, but only in my most self-righteous moods!

My father loved music, both Western and Eastern, and had a melodious voice. He made up the tunes he sang and they all sounded alike! I asked him about it once and he was taken aback, as he hadn't noticed. Then, thinking over it, he remembered that Farida Khanum had pointed out that all the ghazals he requested her to sing were in Rag Aiman. Rag Aiman also happened to be the basic tune of all his songs.

I once asked him to help my daughter with her urdu poetry. He was very happy to oblige and took her into his study, while I waited in his bedroom for the class to be over. It was not long before I heard him singing the ghazals in the Matric course book at the top of his voice, all thoughts of the lesson forgotten!

Once, during his illness, knowing his fondness for music I played a video of some ghazals for him. He kept asking if I would rewind "Nain say Nain Melai na Banay" and finally said, "I almost want to burst into song. It's the first time I have wanted to sing since Zia came to power."

So we both sat there, father and daughter, rewinding the song and singing lustily along with it. When he was going home that evening he thanked me, and said that he hadn't enjoyed himself so much in a long time.

My father was a voracious reader, and remembered every book he read, including it's position on his book shelf and the page number of a phrase that had struck him. He was in the habit of underlining his books, but woe betide any unsuspecting person who turned down a `dog ear' on a page! Any one who has been caught at such a sacrilege would be able to explain my father's disgust and anger, and the lecture about how books were to be treasured.

"Books are to be cherished, not mauled", he always said.

As a child, my father always bought me hardbound books, because he said even children's books were precious. He never failed to come home, after his frequent trips out of town, with an armload of books for me, on every topic under the sun. Without realizing it, I picked up a wide range of knowledge, often against my will!

Waking up in the morning was always a problem in his youth, yet he had made it a point to get up early to go to Foyles (London) where Enid Blyton was signing books. He knew I was an avid fan and would be thrilled. It is beside the point, and quite in character, that he was late and Enid Blyton had left by the time he got there.

He once showed me a letter I had written him as a child, it started with " My Darling Daddy, I hope you are well and happy. Please get me the following books......." and then followed a long list of books, after which I had signed off "with lots of love". Embarrassed, I laughed and said that he couldn't have looked forward to my letters if this was a sample. He answered seriously that it always gave him great pleasure to see that I had inherited his love of books.

A great failing of my father's was that he had no idea of time. He travelled frequently to his constituency, to a meeting, or the National Assembly. In those easygoing, uncomputerized days, there was only one flight from Peshawar. P.I.A often delayed their flights by 5-10 minutes when they saw his name on the passenger list. Trains were not so bad, they were always late, anyway.

Once, I remember going to Havelian to receive him at the railway station and my disappointment knew no bounds when he did not get off the train. We later learned that he and his valet had overslept, and had woken up in Pindi! We thought it was very funny and joked about it. Finally he became quite annoyed and we never dared mention the episode again!

Any description of my father would be incomplete without the mention of sports, especially tennis, which he played regularly at the Peshawar Club. He insisted on all his children playing tennis, and ordered made-to-measure rackets for us. It was his dream that one of us would make it to Wimbledon some day.

My father had perfected the art of bending us, his children, to his will. While never explicitly forbidding us anything, with great subtlety, he never failed to bring us round to his wishes. Yet he always allowed us to believe that we were the moving force behind our decisions!

He was an epicure, and only his love of tennis kept him in shape. He ate slowly, chewing his food with pleasure, carefully picking out tomato skins and other itsy bitsy pieces, and sticking them on the side of his plate. My grandmother often scolded him for being so picky, but he laughed it off. He liked to be treated as a little boy, as there was a part of him that had never really grown up.

My father was a perfect mimic, and often had us in stitches at his realistic portrayals. To hear him tell a story was to relive it! He sometimes scared us too, when he would blank out his eyes and with a strangely eerie smile he would say,

"I am not your Daddy, How do you know I am your Daddy?"

Squealing with a delicious fear, that was always an excuse for us to snuggle up to him; enjoying the cold shiver up our spine, laughing and begging him to stop.

My father was both gentle and harsh, rejecting and nurturing. He could be exasperating. He could be endearing. He could be anything but mediocre and commonplace and anything but less than larger than life.

Yes, he was not perfect, he was only a man, but ----- "the elements were so mixed in him that Nature itself might stand up and say `THIS was a man!"

- Yusuf Khattak was an opposition activist against the Congress government in 1946, after partition was then elected Secretary General of the Provincial Muslim League, NWFP in 1949. He was soon elevated to the prominent position of Secretary General of All Pakistan Muslim League the same year thereby succeeding Liaquat Ali Khan, Prime Minister of Pakistan as Secretary General of the League. He served as served as leader of opposition in Ayub Khan's parliament and was the only member of the PML-Qayyum league to be re-elected in the 1977 election. 

Meet Omar Khalid Khurasani

-Editor's note: This is a translation of a recent interview with Omar Khalid Khurasani (real name Abdul Wali), head/commander of the TTP in Mohmand, shortly after the election of Mullah Fazlullah as the new head of the organization. The interview, conducted in Pashto, has been edited down and changed to make it more comprehensible and wherever possible, avoid jargon. It does not capture the confident mannerism and fluency of the commander, for which we recommend you watch the video which is available on facebook. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to attribute the interviewers.



map of FATA source the Nation

Profile of Mohmand Agency: Mohmand Agency was created in 1951. Ghalanai is its capital town. The total area of Mohmand Agency is 2,296 square kilometer with an estimated population of 325,000 with an estimated 32,000 households. It is bound by Bajaur Agency in the North, Khyber

source FRC

Agency in the South, Malakand and Charsadda districts in the East and Peshawar district in the Southeast. The agency is inhabited by four tribes - Mohmand, Safi, Utmankhel & Shilmani.
Other tribes mentioned are branches of Mohmand (correction via Shah Zalmay) , the Musa Khel, the Daud Khel, the Mero Khel, the Safi, the Tarakzai, the Utman Khel and the Halimzai. Safi is a small tribe but it is the most radical tribe in Mohmand Agency; Omar Khalid, the head of the insurgency in Mohmand, is also a Safi. TTP is the main militant group active in Mohmand Agency. - source FRC

Acronym use:  OKK (Omar Khalid Khurasani  ), TTP (Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan ), FATA ( Federally Administered Tribal Areas), HUM (Hakeemullah Mahsud), JI (Jamaat-e-Islami), PTI (Pakistan Tehrik-e-Insaf), JUI (Jamiat-e-Ulema-Islam)

OKK: The Pakistani government, military history and political party's record has always been one of breaking their promises and trying to trick the Taliban. With this last trick our leader Hakimullah Masud was martyred .

Now Across the ranks, whether young or old. They are all angry at this attack and the question of ( peace) talks is not onour minds.

The real issue about whether to hold talks will only happen when our new leader has had a discussion with our council and that consultation has been completed.

So when some of us say there is no question of talks ever that is not necessarily going to àlways be the case .

-- with regard to our council, it is in a state of constant change with varying number of members. It was founded in 2007, with the Ameer having a council that could be relied on for advice.

It consists of all the various branches of the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) eg Malakand agency, Bajaur, Khyber agency, Orakzai agency. In fact each tribal agency of FATA has at least one member on the council. With a total of about 15- 17 members.

Interviewer: Are you and the various factions of the TTP in agreement about your new leader?

OKK: ... No question of division. After the death of our leader it takes time to get everyone on board to decide the next step.

We are a large organisation with large numbers of fighters. We're not like some small family where when the eldest dies someone else immediately takes over. This was bound to take time, the stories that are coming out of the media about splits between us are untrue.

Mohmand Agency map source FATA Research Centre

In fact when the new leader (Fazlullah) was agreed, the decision of the council was unanimous.

Interviewer: How true is it that you were also offered the leadership post but declined?

OKK: The TTP is a big organization and that requires someone with vision. While the story about myself being chosen spread in the media. In truth I'd stated I would not consider it, as early as the second day after HUMs death.

Interviewer: People are worried that after HUM death and the start of Muharram things will get worse..

OKK: Considering the loss of our leader it is obligatory for us to avenge the attack on us. Whether that is during Muharram or after, we cannot imagine not taking revenge on this 'apostate' Pakistani government.

We will take our revenge on the Pakistani army and the politicians especially those in government.

Interviewer: Will you punish Pakistan or the USA after all it was the latter that targeted HUM

OKK: America is our enemy but we don't blame them. Our real enemy is Pakistan. We will punish Pakistan because they tricked us. If the USA caused us problems now or ten years ago they have been consistent.

Our first enemy is Pakistan. If the Army, government and others hadn't helped the USA drone programme or the CIA. The USA couldn't have found us or done anything to us without their help. The USA has not hurt us as badly as Pakistan has..

Interviewer: We've seen in the past that previous TTP leaders have tried to strike the USA like the case of Faisal Shehzad etc. Is there any big strike being planned like that now?

OKK: As I've said before we see the USA and all the west as our enemy. However since there are plenty of movements going on against them in Syria etc our focus is here.. Pakistan. This is our target for now, our war is with Pakistan and once we've imposed Shariah law in Pakistan and the Caliphate is revived then we'll reconsider things.

Interviewer: How much truth is there in the statement that talks had started with the government.

OKK:.. Amongst Pakistan's political party's there are some eg PTI, JI and JUI .. that have people that want peace. In fact they seek peace for Pakistan. On the other hand there is the military and others institutions that do not want peace. This is because they will lose precious aid from the west. If they want to talk to us now it is only because of two reasons 1) Because of public pressure and calm people angry with them 2) to trick us once again

Interviewer: It is said the new TTP leader by nature is a hardliner and not interested in talks?

OKK: There is no question of his nature playing a role. I reject the media made up divisions that project one person is in favour of talks and the other is not. The truth is we ( the TTP) have to look at ourselves, our situation and the war. We have to weigh the benefits and risks to our war in any strategy. I can say that when it comes to Fazlullah, although we've not spent any one on one time together, it is not a question of him being a hard liner it depends on the consensus formed by the leadership on the right strategy.

Interviewer: How much truth is there in the allegation you're in fact supported by the Afghan, USA and India.

OKK: This is a wrong accusation, you know how you mentioned our attempts against the USA using Faisal Shehzad and .. . It's hard to imagine that we tried to attack them and then they'd give us aid. With regard to India, I myself have fought in Kashmir and have many friends amongst the groups fighting ( against them). The way we say Pakistan Army is the enemy we say the same about India.

We've not taken any hèlp from India but for example if we did we'd have asked for a anti aircraft gun to shoot down PAF jets. We haven't done that yet, if you're taking aid from someone you'd expect it to be something to hurt your mutual enemy.

Interviewer: If you were offered help though would you accept ?

OKK: We have seen no need for it, we have enough strength as it is.

Interviewer: It is said that when fighting starts in Mohmand agency fighters hide in Afghanistan. Why is that?

KHK: We're basically fighting a guerrilla war in Pakistan.

Just because we don't plant a flag and fight against them doesn't mean we can't. It is the rule of guerrilla warfare to hurt your enemy while saving yourself for another day

Interviewer: TTP are accused of destroying schools are you against education?

KHK: We're not against education after all we were educated in religious schools. We are against the Pakistani school based education system. As an alternative we've set up our own religious schools to challenge the Pakistani school system. We're teaching both religious education and practical life skills. The important part of education is the religious part.

(Our aim is ) We're destroying the old system so ours can take its place.

Interviewer: Why do the TTP block health and development programmes

OKK: We are absolutely not against development projects. We've not kidnapped anyone or placed on obstacles against development work. In fact we organize our own work in Moand agency. Saying that we won't allow NGOs in our area, we believe they are working for foreign governments hence why we target them for kidnappings.

Interviewer: What forms of media do you like or watch ?

OKK: I watch them all in fact I have a media team to monitor the radio, tv and internet.

Interviewer: How much truth is there in the statements about the result of drone attacks?

OKK: There are different reports there is amnesty international one, the government of Pakistan one, the recent British one. All I will say about drones is that they have a bad impact on civilians, especially in north Waziristan.

They don't have much impact on our fighters, in fact the strikes help us in one way. It makes the people feel vulnerable and when they feel vulnerable they turn to us which in turn makes us stronger.

Interviewer: So they don't impact you

OKK: no not at all and we're not scared of death. If we were we would never be doing this ...

Zari Sarfaraz: Crusader for the Pakhtuns

This profile of Zari Sarfaraz 28 July 1923 – 27 April 2008 was published by the DAWN magazine circa 2002

By Intikhab Amir

There aren't many Pakistani women who can claim to be renowned
politicians as well as astute businesswomen. In fact, one would
assume that the number of such successful ladies would be negligible
in a male dominated society like ours.

Aftab Sherpao: The Politics of survival

-a version of this article was originally published 1st of April 2013 by Express Tribune

This 2013 election marks a record for Aftab Khan Sherpao the leader of his own Pashtun nationalist party the Qaumi Watan Party . if he wins his seat again it will be his eighth successive electoral victory since 1977. He also has survived repeated militant attacks against himself against all odds.
While having consistent election winners is common place in many parts of Punjab and Sindh, it is the exception in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa where the previous record of successive electoral wins was held by the late Arbab Jehangir. Elections in the province are far more fluid then elsewhere and many local and national leaders have suffered surprise election defeats when they have not been on the right side of the electorate (or other brokers).

Johar Mir: A Tribute

by S.A Hussain

In the waning days of 2004 that Mir Qurban Ali also known as Johar Mir, a Pakistani literary icon, passed away in New York City. As is the fate of most writers and poets from the Third World he remained unappreciated and uncelebrated. It was only in recent years that his impact on Urdu literature in general and the literature of resistance in particular had been realized. He was 67.

Tariq Pervez: The Justice and now the caretaker

By Faheem Wali

In what is a positive precedent Justice (retd) Tariq Pervez has been unanimously chosen as Caretaker Chief Minister of Khyber-Pakhtunkwa in the run up to the 2013 general elections. The move by the Awami National Party dominated provincial government in consultation with other opposition leader was the first attempt in the post 18th amendment constitution of Pakistan. Previous caretaker Chief Ministers were appointed or agreed outside the democratic system and in some cases openly hostile to the previous elected governments.

Habib Jalib: The word of truth

Today is the 20th death anniversary of Urdu poet Habib Jalib (Jalib was born on March 24, 1928 and died on March 12, 1993.) , additional box quotes have been added to the original article and attributed- ed note

By M. Taqi

Sardar Abdur Rab Nishtar: A man for all seasons

-ed note republished with kind permission from Pakistanlink.com

by S.A Hussain

It is perhaps fitting to remember one of the towering figures from the history of the creation of Pakistan.

Ajmal Khattak: the revolutionary dervish

by M. Taqi ( @mazdaki)

Ajmal Khattak provided the modern theoretical basis for the idea of Greater Pashtunistan. Well-versed in the Marxist-Leninist theory — prevalent and ascendant at the time — Ajmal Khattak deployed it to strengthen the case for the right of self-determination for the Pashtuns

Sherbaz Mazari and his journey to disillusionment

Written by Sajid Hussain & Hakeem Baloch
originally published on Tuesday, 02 February 2010 

Harvard University graduate, Sardar Sherbaz Mazari started his political career by supporting Fatimah Jinnah against Ayub Khan in 1964's presidential polls. He was elected to the National Assembly in 1970 and since then he has dealt with almost all the major power players in Pakistan. His political autobiography ‘A journey to disillusionment’ is perhaps the most insightful book on Pakistan’s political history. A comrade of Nawab Akbar Khan Bugti, Khair Bakhsh Marri, Ataullah Mengal and Ghaus Bakhsh Bizenjo, Mazari has first-hand observation of the major events of the Baloch nationalist struggle since 1960s. We visited his Karachi residence to interview the 79-year-old politician-cum-intellectual.

Dilip Kumar: A legend by any definition

originally published by the Daily Times -ed note

By M. Taqi

Born in Peshawar on December 11,1922 Mohammad Yousuf Khan marks his 90th birthday today. To the millions of his fans around the world he is known as Dilip Kumar – the Last Emperor of Indian cinema as his biographer Sanjit Narwekar had put it. To us, the Peshawarites – or Pishoris as we like to call ourselves – he remains one of the four prodigious sons we had gifted to the Bombay film industry – Prithviraj Kapoor, Ranbir Raj Kapoor aka RK Saab and Zakariya Khan ‘Jayant’, being the other three.

Taller than His Mountains: Afzal Khan of Swat

ed note: this interview was taken before the Military operation in Swat 

By Dr.M Taqi

Fit to govern!

No, not to live. O nation miserable,

With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,

Since that the truest issue of thy throne

By his own interdiction stands accursed …

Self-interdiction and then an abdication by the Awami National Party (ANP) in favor of its nemesis -the Taliban is obvious, but one ANP leader stands taller than the mountains of his native Swat, against the bloody scepters of the untitled Jihadist tyrants.

At the other end of my phone call today was an unmistakable deep voice, with an inimitable Pashto diction that many of us from the North West Frontier Province (NWFP) of Pakistan, would readily recognize.

Muhammad Afzal Khan of Droshkhela, Swat sounded calm, composed and firm in his resolve to deny a military or moral victory to the Taliban who have unleashed terror on our province. He expressed his resolve to remain in what he described as his fortified house. How I can leave my family spread over five villages and my people all over Swat, questioned Khan Lala, as the veteran Pashtun nationalist is called with affectionate reverence.

General Janjua, a military doctor, had recommended for Afzal Khan to be evacuated out of Swat for a medical condition, which he has had since 1994, but too proud to turn his back on his people, the Khan declined.

Afzal Khan talked about his meeting with the Pakistan Army Chief, General Ashfaq Kiyani with palpable skepticism. “I told the Army Chief that the Swatis feel that they are being killed by the Taliban and the Army both”.”Give me a reason to explain to the Swatis that this is not true”.”The Chief didn’t say anything”, said Afzal Khan.

Known for his moderate views towards the State of Pakistan, of which he has remained a Federal Minister, member of the National Assembly, deputy opposition leader and contestant of a presidential election, Afzal Khan sounded intrigued at the inaction of the Pakistan’s security apparatus.

He however reserved his deepest concerns for his own party, the ANP. Afzal Khan said that he has conveyed his displeasure at the so called peace agreement, to the Chief Minister of the NWFP, Amir Haider Hoti. “I asked Haider Khan Hoti, where are the Swatis in this whole deal”, “you never asked us about our opinion”, said Afzal Khan.

He went on to talk about how the Swatis, having elected the ANP candidates on all seven provincial assembly seats, feel disenfranchised after the deal. He relayed his fear that this lull is providing the Taliban the respite they required to rearm and regroup to extend their attacks outside Swat. “Look, all that the ANP deal has done is to give the Taliban a reprieve from fighting here and now they are in Buner and Shangla”, he lamented.

“Afrasiab Khattak and Iftikhar Hussain (ANP’s provincial president and information minister, respectively) came to see me, escorted by government security agencies”, said Afzal Khan. “I told them that the first priority of the state is to provide security to the citizenry, but you chose to remove the security away from the Swatis and yet have it for yourselves”, he concluded.

Last year, the ANP had rebuked its leaders like Latif Afridi, who had suggested a march to Swat and a show of strength, in support of Afzal Khan and the Swatis. Many in the ANP believe that the current leadership is wary of Afzal Khan because he has achieved a larger than life stature and probably ranks right up there with Mir Wais Hotak, Khushal Khattak and Ahmed Shah Durrani.

Afzal Khan, though cognizant of the symbolic nature of his stand, remains focused on the practical aspects of the struggle and its outcome for his people. He is the embodiment of Faiz’s thought about the course of the people’s struggle: when the times demand, it is the seasoned campaigner who walks and sets the momentum for the whole movement and when needed is firm like the mighty mountains; and in doing so he makes the journey proud and the path shining :

جو رکے تو کوہِ گراں تھے ہم , جو چلے تو جاں سے گزر گۓ
رہِ يار ہم نے قدم قدم , تجھے يادگار بنا ديا

jo rukay to koh e garan they hum, jo chalay to jaan se guzar gaiay
rah e yar hum ne qadam qadam, tujhey yadgaar bana diya

Originally published as Taller than His Mountains: Afzal Khan of Swat April 24, 2009

-Author practices and teaches medicine at the University of Florida and tweets as @mazdaki 

Afzal Bangash: the Marxist maverick

Afzal Bangash: the Marxist maverick

By M. Taqi

“I count myself in nothing else so happy,

As in a soul remembering my good friends” — Shakespeare in Richard II

Reminiscing about some of the stars of the secular galaxy of Pakistan and especially Pakhtunkhwa is needed not just due to a family association or personal, feel-good nostalgia. It is a must because the current generations – being fed a steady diet of Wahabiism – ought to get acquainted with the history of this land.

Where first the state-controlled, and now the state-indoctrinated media persons have systematically relegated both our saints and secularists to oblivion while projecting larger-than-life images of the obscurantist characters from Pakistan Studies and Islamic Studies textbooks, such recollections become an obligation. One such distinguished progressive was the leader of the Mazdoor Kissan Party (MKP), Muhammad Afzal Bangash who died on this day (October 28) in 1986.

In mid-1986, Bangash sahib had returned from exile and was residing at the Kohat Road, Peshawar. The word spread and I got to tag along with friends and family who called upon him. Somehow the conversation started in Urdu. But then Bangash sahib asked “Tussi saray Hindko samajhdeyo na?” (All of you understand Hindko?). Some nodded, others said yes. He then quipped: “Bohat achha aye, kyoonkeh mein Urdu bolna waaN tey inj lagda aye jhoot bol riya waaN” (Great then, because if I speak in Urdu it feels like I am lying).

In one sweep he had thus made a case for the mother tongue; Bangash sahib was not known for subtleties. Twenty-four years later a study by the British Council Pakistan recommended last month that the mother tongue be the medium of instruction in elementary schools.

Afzal Bangash was above any chauvinism or parochialism though. He spoke and wrote in Urdu, Pashto and English and had great command of the Peshawari and Kohati Hindko. He remained part of the Ulasi Adabi Jirgah (People’s Literary Guild) along with the Urdu poets Farigh Bokhari and Raza Hamdani, progressive Pashto poets like Ajmal Khattak and Qalandar Momand and the religio-romantic nationalist masters like Amir Hamza Shinwari and Dost Muhammad Kamil. The guild was founded by his mentor Kaka-ji Sanober Hussain Momand, a revolutionary leader of the Indian freedom movement, after whom Bangash sahib later named the MKP weekly Sanober that also carried Kaka-ji’s verse on its cover.

In fact Bangash sahib detested labels and branding. While many characterised him as a Maoist, he took umbrage at the tag for he was the Marxist maverick who recorded his opposition to the Chinese invasion of Vietnam in the MKP’s journal Circular and parted ways with his colleagues who endorsed the invasion. After the Afghan revolution Hafizullah Amin wanted Bangash sahib to form a Pakistani party allied with his Khalq faction. Not only did he snub Amin but further admonished him for their transgressions and advised them to take the local culture and norms into serious consideration.

A son of the soil, Bangash sahib was not fond of importing or exporting revolutions and believed in an indigenous struggle. He was of the opinion that only the local circumstances can dictate the means to revolutionary ends. To him the most essential tool was revolutionary self-reliance, meaning a combination of the mass mobilisation of the oppressed people through an astute leadership, culminating in the directly concerned people waging the struggle. In an agrarian society this meant that the peasantry was to be the vanguard of such a movement.

But having served as Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah’s provincial campaign manager in her bid against Ayub Khan, in an election rigged by the general, Bangash sahib was acutely aware of the deck stacked against the masses. He had been a member of the Communist Party of Pakistan (CPP) since 1948 and had seen the Quaid-e-Azam watch helplessly as the West Punjab Assembly flouted the recommendations of its own land reform sub-committee within six months of independence. Whether it was fixing the tenant’s share in the crop, the abolition of begaar (unpaid forced labour), making cheap credit available to the tenant or preventing their forced evictions, legislative help was not on the horizon.

Having been elected as the first General Secretary of the National Awami Party (NAP) in 1957, Afzal Bangash was intimately familiar with the workings of such multi-class leftist fronts, where in many instances the feudal nationalist elements held sway over party decisions. One such decision by the NAP leadership barring Bangash sahib and others from working in the peasant committees led to his parting ways with NAP and founding on May 1, 1968, the MKP – perhaps the largest revolutionary leftist party in Pakistan’s history that openly eschewed electoral politics.

The MKP’s red flag with a white star became a symbol of resistance to the feudal lords in Hashtnagar (Charsadda), Peshawar, Mardan and Swat/Malakand. It drew support from not only the tenants and agri-labourers but also from white-collar communities like the lawyers. In fact, Wali Khan’s nephew Faridoon Khan hoisted the MKP flag at his father Ghani Khan’s house and ‘de-classed’ himself to join the peasant uprising. After a tenant, Sardar Shah raised the MKP flag as a challenge against his landlord Usman Ali “Wawa” Khan’s eviction order, the scene was set for a mass uprising in northern Hashtnagar and an armed struggle ensued. The peasant uprising lasted through three successive governments including that of the NAP. Along with its contemporary Naxalite struggle and the Peruvian and Nepalese peasant movements that followed it, the Hashtnagar peasant struggle provides a unique case study in an era when urban fascists pretend to be anti-feudal!

Well-versed in Marxist theory as many of his speeches and writings reflect, Afzal Bangash however, was not a dogmatist. He did develop a methodology of modifying both theory and practice to adjust the ideological framework and the means to achieve political goals. He was proud of his comrades like Major Ishaq Muhammad, Professor Eric Cyprian, Imtiaz Alam and Sher Ali Baacha who contributed immensely to both theory and the practical struggle. During the recent judiciary movement some of his former associates like Latif Afridi and Justice Shahjahan Yousafzai demonstrated, from the bar and the bench respectively, the acumen and resolve of the seasoned campaigners that Bangash sahib had trained by the dozens.

Afzal Bangash did gradually move towards mainstream politics starting with the Movement for the Restoration of Democracy (MRD), of which the MKP was a founding and highly functional component. He had a great working relationship with Shaheed Benazir Bhutto during that era. In 1985 he, along with Ataullah Mengal, Mumtaz Bhutto and Hafiz Pirzada, formed the Sindhi Baloch Pashtun Front, proposing a confederal state to counter the Punjabi establishment’s hegemony.

Upon returning to Pakistan, he remained involved with the merger of the left-oriented parties and closed the door on a generation-long rift with Wali Khan. The MKP, a faction of the PNP, Rasool Paleejo’s Awami Tehrik and the NDP thus came together to form the Awami National Party (ANP). Wali Khan became its first president while MKP’s Sardar Shaukat Ali was elected as its General Secretary.

Bangash sahib’s legacy is that of a secular, selfless devotion to the deliverance of the wretched of the earth from oppression and exploitation, if needed, by challenging through all means available, the Weberian concept of the ‘legitimate monopoly on violence’ as well as the hegemony of the forces of tradition. Having declined high office and judgeships many times, Bangash sahib remained wedded till his last breath to the cause he championed. He was originally buried in his ancestral graveyard in Shadi Khel village, Kohat, but later on his mortal remains were transferred to Hashtnagar where he rests in peace along with his comrades and cadres.

One column cannot do justice to a political life spanning more than four decades but I will say to my younger friends in the words of Iqbal and Hafiz:



“I scatter the petals of tulips upon the dust of martyrs;

For their blood profits the sapling of the community;

Come so that we may strew roses and pour wine into the cup;

Let us tear open the roof of Heaven and think upon new ways.”

The writer can be reached at mazdaki@me.com. He tweets at http://twitter.com/mazdaki

Originally published by the Daily Times Pakistan Thursday, October 28 2010

Interview with history: Akbar Bugti

-this interview was conducted thirty years ago

 By Najma Sadiq

For quite some time now, there have been seen seemingly inaudible murmurs from Baluchistan. Of late, the voices have become louder, the complaint, among other things, being that its aspirations, views and concerns have not been, or are inadequately, aired in the national press.

To try and right this balance somewhat, one point of view is presented here, that of a Baluch, who has been a part of the political scene more so, of late. The former governor of Baluchistan, Tumandar Akbar Shahbaz Khan Bugti speaks to ‘The Herald’ about his life – and land.

Eight-thirty on an October morning in 1939, in Dera Bugti, Baluchistan, Akbar felt cold as he stepped out of his house into the wild desert-mountain expanses, For days since his father’s death, tribesmen from all corners had been gathering to pay condolences and last tributes to their late leader; since twilight they had been readying for the dastarbandi ceremony to invest their new chief.

His mind still in a whirl with the sudden changes that had been taken place in the space of few days – being whisked back to Dera Bugti, the converging of countless Bugti, on hearing of their chief’s death, and now the investiture – he gave himself up to being directed and lettings things happen without his volition. There was nothing for him to do anyway. He had been coached the previous evening on what would happen and the demeanour expected of him during the proceedings; that was enough.

The tribesmen settled down and now everyone’s eyes lay intently on him. He was turned to face the direction of the rising sun. A Sahanrak – the enormous, round, wooden tray-like Baluchi dining plate – was placed before him. The shallow centre was filled with water; ringed around the water were a handful each of wheat, jowar, bajra and other grains and pile of silver rupee coins. Flicking off his shoe, he placed his bare right foot in the water of the sahanrak and let its significance seep into his followers. The origins of the ritual, probably pre-Islamic, were lost in the mists of time, but there was no doubt about its import – both an affirmation and a supplication that his “reign” or sardari benefit from his cool and collected wisdom and judgement as expressed by the water in the sahanrak; that there there be rich harvests year after year; that there be prosperity, signified by the silver coins and that all these should be taabay or under the chief’s feet, or in his own words. “That they should not rule me, but I should rule them.”

The Sardari sword - known as Wazir-am-Kundi and a much a mark of the victor over vanquished as a symbol since it was captured by his ancestor Mir Chakur from the Mazari tribe – was hung at his waist. It was heavy and too big for him and tilted over as it touched the ground. It was the same sword that reputedly slashed a man into eight pieces with a single stroke as he sat on his haunches, his arms tied around his knees!

Now came the climax of the ceremony.  Fascinatedly watched by then British Political Agent and his retinue, one by one the heads of sub-tribes and their sub-divisions and clans came forward in the fixed order of hierarchy and their status in the tribe, to formally pledge allegiance to their new chieftain. Each one had brought a special length of turban cloth, and each in turn tied the turban around his chief’s head with his own hands. One on top of the other the turbans were tied. When it became too unwieldy, twenty to thirty turbans were removed at a time leaving only the original turban behind, and the ceremony continued. Often, as the wrappings grew, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. His head hurt and he had problems keeping his neck straight, but he had to maintain his strength and dignity before his tribe. Several hundred turbans had been wound and unwound from his head within the space of the morning. Joyful shouts and gunfire filled the air. Twelve-year-old Sardar Akbar Shahbaz Khan of the Rahejas – tribal blue-blood from among whom alone leadership could come – was now the Tumandar of the legendary, indomitable, fearless and death-defying Bugti tribe.

Akbar Khan Bugti betters the imagination of what an untamed tribal chieftain should look  like. Over six feet tall with a tough, well- kept physique, he may well have been sculpted from the mountain faces between which he often roamed. At fifty-six, he was as spry and agile as he was as a youth, an excellent horseman and marksman. The years only seem to have sharpened his mental faculties and added to his imposing mien while the anger over the decades over the cavalier treatment of the Baluchis seems to burn in him with an even greater zeal.

Outside his Quetta house, fierce-looking tribesmen stand guard, bristling with guns and bullets. They are an intimidating sight and there was something incongruous about their ushering us in with so much courtesy and respect. Yet all the neighbors declared they felt safer living there than in any part of the city, and those on whose doorsteps the guards scatter themselves, sitting up all night, consider themselves doubly blessed.

The mornings of tribal chieftains are given up to their tribesmen. They came from near and far, to exchange haal or to prevent problems and seek advise or a solution. But this morning was kept free by appointment.

“How much time do you have?” I ventured to ask Sardar Akbar Shahbaz Khan Bugti, so that I could allot my priorities accordingly.

“I can stay up and talk without break from this moment until the same time tomorrow morning. Can you? Your colleague will vouch for that. He has sat with me overnight a number of times – and has fallen asleep.”

Everyone laughed and relaxed. The day was ours. Outside the rain pelted softly. Before we had even settled down comfortably on the cushions, a traditional drink – the first of an endless round and variety – and a mountainous array of dried fruits were placed before us.

Baluchi custom sends women about to give birth, to her parental family home. Akbar Bugti was born in July 1927 in Parkhan District, Loralai, at the house of his mother’s brother. He grew up in Dera Bugti for the first eight years, attending the local school there as well as being coached by private tutors.

When he was five years old, he was handed his first shotgun. “It was a small bore shotgun – not 12 or 16 but 28 bore – one of the smallest. I sat on my haunches and fired. Immediately I was thrown back and the gun fell from my hands.” But it had not frightened him, accustomed as he was to the presence of guns and gunfire since birth. Thereafter, three Bugti elders began to instruct him on Baluch customs and principles, tribal affairs and how to deal with them. Minor cases of dispute began to be sent to him and the elders would sit with him and direct him on how to question complainants and defendants, and how to arrive at a decision. From the age of seven he sat in on jirgas with his father to listen to cases being conducted and add to his knowledge of tribal administration. He learnt early to lead, to take command, to be king.

There was a short season of primary school in Quetta but the great 1935 earthquake that leveled the city followed soon after. When he visited Quetta again, they could not find their bearings to their house amidst the uniform, anonymous rubble. 40,000 had died. His father then brought Akbar and Ahmed to Karachi and they settled into the Karachi Grammar School. “Lots of Europeans then – upper-class Karachiites including Hindus. Yusuf Haroon and Hidayatullah were our seniors.”

But then the brothers were living with Allama I.I. Kazi and his German wife, Elsa Kazi. There were other out-of-town boys too were placed in the Kazis’ care mostly from different parts of Sind. “The Kazis were childless and they treated us like their children. Later Kazi Saihib became Vice –Chancellor of Sind University. They were a very devoted couple and finally when Mrs. Kazi died, he committed suicide by throwing himself into the river near Giddu Bunder. Without her, he found life empty.”

Akbar Bugti’s deep voice, though always gracious, was measured and emotionless. The only time he seemed to allow warmth and animation to come into his voice during the entire day was when he spoke of Elsa Kazi.

“They were both wonderful but Mrs.Kazi was the more accomplished and true intellectual. She talked of everything under the sun. She was poetess, writer, dramatist, painter, and philosopher of sorts. Yes, she influenced me considerably.”

After his father died and he became Tumandar of the Bugti tribe, Akbar and his brother became Wards of the State. As he was a minor, a regent administered the tribe in his place. The regent was Akbar’s father’s half-brother, and reputed to have murdered Akbar’s father.

Like suddenly changed with a wrench.  ”We became wards of two terrible agencies,” he said “one of the government of Baluchistan and the other of Sind, since we also had property in Sind. After the dastarbandi ceremony, all the money that was passed from the late chief to his sons was counted by the Political Agent and taken away and placed under the state until we were adult. The government decided to send the Bugti boys to Aitchison College, Lahore.

“We were miserable for days. There was one consolation though. We were allowed to spend our summer holidays with the Kazis every year as we were not permitted to go to Dera Bugti at all.”

Perhaps it was for their safety since there couldn’t have been cordial feelings where murder was suspected. And a Baluchi son was unlikely to forget or forgive.

But Aitchison turned out to be rewarding. As much attention was paid to sports as to studies and Akbar excelled in them. He captained the swimming and polo teams, played in the cricket team and was good in athletics too, breaking a shot put record.

When he was between eight and ten years old Akbar was betrothed to a second cousin, an incident of which he has no memory. Soon after his 15^th birthday, the respective mothers and other relatives suddenly turned up in Lahore and Akbar was informed that he was going to be married. It was a quiet affair and in 1943, when only 16, his first child was born. For two consecutive summers he and his brother Ahmed along with the Kazis and their wards, vacationed at a hill-station thirty miles near Simla, his family accompanying too, staying at an adjoining separate house.

By now Akbar had begun to hear of the Nationalist Movement for Independence by the Indian Congress. “I had not heard of the Muslim League though, but only of Gandhi and the Swadeshi Movement and Gandhi’s call to boycott British goods. Near Soldier Bazaar where we lived in Karachi, people had made a huge bonfire and were throwing in British manufactured stuff. I got carried away as well by the intense feeling, and took off my tie and solar hat and threw them into the fire. Then I acquired a Gandhi cap. I still have it.”

Since 1939 when Akbar became Tumandar until 1944, he had not been to Dera Bugti. “In the meantime trouble began to grow against the Sarbara (regent). People didn’t like his ways and representations were made to bring me back. I knew nothing about all this until I was suddenly taken to Dera Bugti during the vacations. I was taken to another house of ours in Sibi which was quickly renovated. My formal education came to an abrupt end. In January ’45 my second child was born. A retired government official was appointed to tutor me in administrative matters. All of ‘ 45 there was trouble against the Sarbara and in April 1946 I was finally officially recognized and installed as chief, with direct authority over by tribe, by the government.” At eighteen, boyhood came to an end.

(Highlighted box) :-

“Of course,” said the Nawab, “you must remember that I killed my first man when I was twelve. “ That is how Sylvia Matheson’s definitive book on the Baluchis, ‘Tigers of Baluchistan’ begins. “The man annoyed me” had been his explanation. “I’ve forgotten what it was about…. I’ve rather a hasty temper you know… as the eldest son of the Chieftain, I was perfectly entitled to do as I pleased in my own territory. We enjoy absolute sovereignty over our people and they accept this as part of their tradition.”  The boy Bugti grew up with a dual personality – one that warmed to Elsa Kazi and the ways of the twentieth century, and other that grew up with tribal law in which murder was not a capital offence.

Marri-Bugti country, spread over 7000 square miles, are among the harshest lands in Baluchistan. Rain is rare and temperatures rise to heights that are a torment even to the toughened Bugtis. Tribal life with its disputes over livestock, scarce water, horses and women, the war parties and temporary truces, contained as usual under the sardari of the new Tumandar. In a barren land, quarrels flared over basics of life. The blood-revenge, necessary to honour, kept up unabated and the occasional accusation of adultery known as siyakari broke the monotony of murders. The Tumandar had his hands full with the daily kutchery. These included rare divorce cases and complaints of maltreatment of wives by husbands. Although strictly adhering to the traditional restrictions of women -- and they had little to be thankful for in Baluchi society, not even having the right to inherit -- the new chieftain, on occasion, didn’t hesitate to publicly punish the offending man.

“Something I gave him a lecture, and the shame he feels to be so spoken to in an open kutchery serves the purpose. Sometimes it’s more than a lecture – a couple of strokes on the back so that he knows what it feels like physically, mentally, psychologically.” Echoes of Elsa Kazi?

In 1948 Akbar Bugti was sent for administraitive training to the C.S.P Academy in Lahore which followed the lines of the British I.C.S. At partition, Baluchistan was not a full-fledged province but still a centrally administrated area, and in 1950 he became one of the two advisors on the Baluchistan Advisory Council towards bringing about provincial status as promised by Mr. Jinnah and Mr. Liaquat Ali Khan “But it was like an assembly without powers. We could effect nothing whatsoever,” he murmured resignedly.

In 1953, England’s Queen was crowned; Akbar Bugti and Nawab Khair Buksh Marri were also in invited. It was Akbar’s first trip abroad. “It was a fine ceremony and I was struck especially by Queen Salote of Tonga; she was seven feet tall and with her huge bulk, she was an impressive figure indeed.”

Political disillusionment set in when “we were lumped together into this terrible scheme known as One Unit which ended all the aspirations of the people here for their advancement.

“And to think I had opted for Pakistan! It was in 1946 that we first heard of the Muslim League. We knew as much about them as they did about Baluchistan, which was vague. When we were called upon to decide whether to join India or Pakistan, I called all the elders together and the pros and cons were weighed. My people asked by opinion as they had no knowledge of the world outside. I said I thought Pakistan was best because even if we had wanted to join India, there was no direct land-link and an unnatural situation would have arisen as with East Pakistan.

“Earlier, there had been a stand-still agreement with certain British Indian States like Hyderabad Deccan and with the Maharaja of Kashmir and the Khan of Kalat. The Khan had put the matter of joining India or Pakistan to his Assembly and both the upper and lower houses had unanimously voted to stay independent. Then in 1948, the Pakistan government moved troops to Kalat – a brigade surrounded the palace and invaded Kalat -- Colonel Shah, Minister of Interior, sat in Quetta controlling the whole operation. Some cannon shots were fired across his (the Khan of Kalat) palace to impress him and he was obliged sign on the dotted line; unconditional surrender and accession to Pakistan. Similarly in India, police action was pushed in Hyderabad and the Nizam had to do the same.

“That was the first time people became aware of unrest in this region. The Khan’s younger brother, Agha Abdul Karim, revolted and took to the hills with a large body of people. When the position became untenable, he crossed into Afghanistan and camped in Sarlat. For some months there were skirmishes. Senior official interceded. They took an oath on the Holy Quran that if they returned they would be guaranteed safety and dealt with leniently and differences would be amicably settled. No sooner did he (Agha Abdul Karim and his companions) come he was handcuffed, locked up, and he and his men sentenced to prison sentences of 18, 14, 10 years. That was the first taste of Pakistan that Baluchistan got. It built up antagonistic feelings and got worse.

“Baluchistan had one seat in the Constituent Assembly. Though there was the electoral college that constituted of the members of the Shahi Jirga of Baluchistan of which I too was a member, the ticket was ioven to Dr. Khan Saheb, elder brother of Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, a government-nominated man. We protested. The Political Agent was called in. We announced boycott of the elections as a test. But it went through. He was selected or elected. After some time someone took the matter to court, a legal flaw was found in the elections and he was unseated.

“In the meantime, there were some changes in the state laws, Members of the national assembly became the electoral college. Again through maneuvering, Dr. Khan Saheb got the ticket. It was terrible. Had Baluchistan had half a dozen seats we would have given him, or anyone else, one as khairaat or bakshish. But we had only one seat and that was going to a non-Baluch, which was unfair and unjust. We went kamarbasti to Karachi and confronted him. We asked how a person who had fought for rights could justify such an action and appealed to his better judgement. He resorted to anger, because he had no defense to offer, then walked out on us. We were flabbergasted. At that time he was Chief Minister of West Pakistan against the very interest of his own brother and his own party. Then we went on a campaign.”

“There were 80 members in the National Assembly – 40 each from East and West Pakistan. In the West Pakistan quota, one had been vacated by Dr. Khan and another member was absent. So we thought if we could get 20 firm votes, I could win. We weren’t very confident as I was young and raw and the rest were all old fogeys, but one had to try. Twenty people made firm promises to us. On the morning of the voting we placed a couple of men to watch who were going to the Governor-General’s house – who were being called in and offered something or threatened. Those that went in, we knew, were lost. At the end of the count, I had 18 votes, Dr. Khan Sahib 20.”

“Who went back on his word?” I couldn’t resist asking.

“They are dead now.”

“Just for the record …. ”

“I won’t name the others but one was Jalal Baba who was rewarded by being made a Deputy Minister. He wanted a reward from us too. We asked him what that was and he said a motor car. We said ‘fine’. - I had one, and my brother had one, Malik Sher Mazari had one. They were all parked below. When Jalal Baba came in, we all took out our car-keys and started jingling them to attract his attention so that he could choose whichever car he wanted. But he wouldn’t even look at us! We realized then he’d got a bigger prize. The others, I must admit, wanted nothing from us. When the results were out, Mian Iftikharuddin who was in the opposition, flared up at me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me your position was so strong? He asked. I could’ve got you two more, maybe six more votes.

“The seat was again vacant -- by-elections held – and this time I was elected unopposed. No great achievement, but shortly after I became Minister of State, Feroz Khan Noon handed me responsibility. But in those days there was a lot of manipulation behind the scenes – Iskander Mirza’s antics preparing ground for Martial law.

Every few days there’d be a reshuffle and change of Cabinet. This went on for a month. Until one day we stayed away from office to see if the newest change would hold, instead of making laughing stocks of ourselves. No use being Minister for a day and half ! Sure enough that night, troops moved in and took their positions. Early next morning it was announced – the Constitution was done away with, parliament and parties dissolved, cabinets dismissed, Martial Law imposed and Ayub Khan became the Chief of the M.L.A. Some time before this the Khan of Kalat was brought into the picture as one of the excuses for Martial Law.

He’d been abroad and returned a month or so earlier and was staying with Iskander Mirza who claimed that Bahawalpur had been agitating for their rights and suggested that if he (the Khan of Kalat) were to show some token agitation, some armed force, that was all that was needed to bring Kalat State back to life. And Mirza would also be needing a few lacs for himself. So the Khan replied, “We’re Baluch and don’t have much money, but Bahawalpur has let them give the money and we’ll give the muscle. So it was all settled, the Khan being a simple man and not knowing he was trapping himself in a great intrigue.

“I first became aware of it through the papers which gave the matter a false buildup. Azadi ka jhanda on the Khan’s qila and Pakistan in danger, and all that sort of nonsense. Two days before Martial Law, I was in the corridor and overheard Noon and Iskander Mirza. I joined them; Mirza turned to me and said ‘Well, Akbar, tumhara Khan ka dimmak Kharab ho giya. I’d called him for a meeting and he refused to come.’

I was disturbed and told him it was not possible, I would fetch him myself. He said, ‘No you’re my Minister. I won’t send you.  I told him that apart from being a Minister, I was a Baluch too and so was the Khan. He was my elder, it was perfectly in order for me to go to him. He looked at me fixedly and said, ‘It’s too late,’ and abruptly walked away.

“I realized that something was terribly wrong, something hidden. The next day the Army moved in, demolished part of his place with cannons, arrested him, and placed him under house arrest in the Punjab. And a big hoo-ha was made – that Baluchistan would have been up in flames if this action had been taken. Poor Khan was really had.”

“Trouble started again in Baluchistan not only because of the arrest and deposition but also in demand of provincial rights and against One Unit. Mohd. Nauroz Khan Zarakzai, who was over 90, and his sons and other men had taken up arms. Again, as with the Khan’s brother, he and his sons were lured back by oaths on the Quran that no harsh treatment would be meted out if only they gave up the revolt. When they returned they were thrown into a military detention camp in Quetta known as the Coolie Camp, because after the Great Earthquake, the coolies brought in from outside to clear the debris had stayed there. It was concentration camp with barbed wire – searchlights, heavily armed guards. Several hundred Baluch were tortured. Military Courts were established. Seven were ordered hanged, seven sentenced for life, others for various lengths of time. Nawab Nauroz Khan and one of his sons got life sentences. Another son and a nephew were executed – hung in Hyderabad and Sukkur jails. That added fuel to the fire. More trials joined in the fire. More trials joined in the fray and more got arrested. So was I, Mengal, Bizenjo and Khair Baksh Mari (Sherenoff) who was later released by mistake!

“I was in twelve different jails for the next seven and half years after being tried by the Military Court. First at Coolie Camp, then Machh, Hyderabad, Karachi, Sukkur, Multan Montogomery, Lyallpur, Mianwali, Lahore. Oh! It was a Grand Tour spent mostly in the Punjab and all during Ayub’s time.”

“In the last few years, foreign money has been pouring into Baluchistan. The Western and Arab World have suddenly discovered a place called Baluchistan and its importance ever since the Russian presence in Afghanistan. But most projects are ‘pocket’ schemes – they go into the pockets of officials and blue-eyed notables. The sizes of the ‘pockets’ have increased, they’ve become gunny bags. A little trickles into ‘development’, but no government consultations are held with tribal elders on projects. It doesn’t win the loyalty of the locals or gratefulness to foreigners, whatever their intentions are. You can pour in millions, but you can’t buy Baluchistan and the Baluchis.”

“What was the rationale behind your being shifted from place to place ?”

“Increasingly harsher conditions as one got used to each. Special instructions were given for that. Then the Mengals – fathers and brothers and hundreds of their people suffered. There were military operations, aerial bombardment, many died. Ayub found he couldn’t crush with military action and now thought of negotiation instead. He called the Shahi Jirga and arranged for face-saving tactics. Amnesty was announced. We were all released and had a good laugh notwithstanding the long sufferings and losses. All the cases were withdrawn; things like murder, conspiracy, almost a dozen things under the penal code, including anti-state activities and working for the dissolution of the state!”

“What were the trials and treatment like?”

There was an officer in charge of the Special Summary Military Court No. 2 – Major Sher Ali Baz – a specialist in the art of torture for extracting so-called confessions. The same man was called in for the Agartala case and later the ‘Pindi Conspiracy case. He went on to become Brigadier. I remember one young man he tortured. It was inhuman – he was nailed to the wall. Three wooden nails were driven through the left palm. Chillies were put in his eyes. Then with fish-hooks his flesh was plucked from different parts of the body. For 28 continuous days and nights he was made to stand so that his legs became as fat as an elephant’s. His shalwar had to be torn. They tied bricks to his testicles. The terrible thing was that he was innocent -- but by the time they realized he was innocent, he was blind and crippled.

“As for my trial – it was prosecuted by a crude colonel. The magistrate was a refined man but when he tried to ask me some questions, the Colonel rebuked him; ‘You do your job, you’re just a babu of this court, keep writing.’ It was just a kangaroo court. I remember it was winter and bitterly cold that year. I was sentenced and packed off to Quetta and then Machh. Nawab Nauroz Khan was brought there too and court assembled in the jail premises where he was sentenced to death.

“A week later the jail was again heavily surrounded by military units. I felt it was my turn now. Sure enough the Deputy Superintendent came in next morning and told me I was wanted. My trial had already taken place and this was to finalize the verdict. You see, they send it to the Judge Adjutant General of the Army who gives it some legal shape and then it was signed by the CMLA. The officer looked at me and read out, ‘You are sentenced to death and a fine of rupees five lacs.’ I wasn’t aware of it at that moment but I was told later, that I was smiling as I heard this. So many thoughts pass through your mind when you think you’re about to die. I was wondering from whom they were going to collect five lacs if I was going to die. Maybe that’s when I smiled. The officer had stopped for a minute. I think he was looking for a reaction – an appeal for mercy – but he got none. Then he read on; ‘And further, the CMLA has commuted the sentence of death to transportation for life.’ Then he looked up at me to see if I would beam or something – he was disappointed again.

“The mercy petition for Nauroz Khan’s son was rejected. He was executed next morning. I pleaded but they wouldn’t let me see or meet him a last time. Nor did they give his father the opportunity to meet him.

“How did you pass your time during all those years in jail. Was any reading material provided, radio or games?”

“None whatsoever, except for a terrible newspaper called Pakistan Times and that too, only in the Punjab. Much of my time was spent in solitary confinement. In Sahiwal, I spent two years in solitary. After two weeks I’d lost my voice although, I didn’t know it until the Superintendent came to say something to me. When I tried to answer, only a squeak came out. I realized I was losing my voice. After that I would sing or talk to myself regularly just to keep the vocal chords exercised and working!

“Rare interviews with relatives are allowed. But it is not for merciful reasons. One looks forward to it, but the C.I.D. sits there listening to every word so that much of the joy in gone – you can’t speak freely. Afterwards, you are even more shattered because once more you’ve had a taste of what you’re missing. Jail is dehumanizing. You feel like a vegetable rooted to one spot. Sometimes they water you, sometimes they don’t -- you have no say in the matter. I’ve lived in all classes in jail – A Class, B Class, and C or Royal Class. In Royal Class, unless you have some means, you barely survive because jail functionaries make money by giving you less food and pocketing the difference.

“The first priority when we would be shifted from one to jail to another was to set up our lines of communication. On one occasion I’d sent a letter to Ataullah Mengal’s house for anti-government handbills because a NAP man was staying at his house. Mengal had prior knowledge of what was going to happen and had already cleared out everything. But just as the police were leaving after a fruitless search, one of the men saw a paper sticking out of a shirt pocket. It was my letter and the NAP fellow was arrested as a recipient.”

“And the consequences to you?”

“Well a special team came down from Karachi to interrogate me. There were no signatures, of course, I said it was indeed a very good counterfeit and whoever wrote it was definitely an expert. The Superintendent must’ve really come under fire. Cases were made against us for ‘seditious and rebellious treason’ and God knows what else. We were brought to Karachi and a special trial was held in jail in camera by a Class 3 magistrate. The trial was just the usual farce, and we took no interest. On the basis of that one letter I was sentenced to three years hard labour, which was a joke – you can’t add any more years to life imprisonment with hard labour already! My co-accused was acquitted while a retrial was ordered for me. Then came Ayub’s general amnesty and I was set free. This was after my first sentence – death – and I’d spent 20 months in jail.

“Then came Ayub Khan’s elections. Khair Buksh Marri and Ataullah Mengal were elected to the seats for Baluchistan. I couldn’t stand being an ex-convict. At the first Assembly, Marri and Mengal spoke up about all the atrocities in Baluchistan. At that time Z.A. Bhutto who was then Foreign Minister spoke to me – he held me responsible, said Kalabagh was angry with me. At a meeting in Baluchistan the atrocities were brought up again. Two days later, Ayub had his meeting where he said, “there’s someone here who was sentenced to death. I commuted it to life imprisonment. Now he’s getting people to agitate against me and the government! He named no names but I was sitting there and people understood at once. Next day I wasn’t allowed to speak at our own meeting. Tents were demolished. I was arrested before the meeting. Thereafter Mengal and Bizenjo and others were arrested. Marri vanished before they could get him. Life sentence was re-imposed on me.

“Anyway, my brother Ahmed approached Mr A. K. Brohi to defend me. There were old ties and attachments – or so we thought. When we were with the Kazis, their home was the gathering place of Sindhi intellectuals. Mr. Brohi was then a poor, struggling law student and Mr. Kazi had appointed him as our private tutor. So Mr. Brohi said of course -- anything for my old pupil, won’t even charge any fees’ – and he took up Mengal’s case too. After attending a couple of sessions in the Punjab High Court, he received a letter from Ayub Khan – a veiled threat. Immediately Mr. Brohi collapsed and withdrew from the cases.”

“Didn’t he offer any explanation?”

“He didn’t have to since I was in jail. To my brother he offered the lame excuse that he was too busy – that nothing could be done anyway. Another lawyer was found at the last minute but he was unprepared and the case was dismissed. I heard about these letters much later.”

“By the way, Mengal and I are responsible for three or four new laws on our statute books. They were brought in to ‘deal’ with one man, but they apply to everyone. 

For example, there was a change in the Ward of Courts Law -- pertaining to minors. Under that they took over all my property – I became a minor all over again in jail ! Even my cars were taken away.

“There was an interesting incident – this was when there was all that action against the Baluch and the Agartala matter. Mujib and Bhutto were locked up too. I was detained in Mianwali. The last days of Ayub’s rule. I had gone on an extended fast – I lost 75 pounds – and was shifted to Mayo Hospital, Lahore. From the hospital verandah we could see the processions and action. Casualties would be rushed to Mayo and we’d get first-hand information. One day there was a lathi charge and tear-gassing. A few people, to escape, jumped over the wall into the hospital grounds. My armed police guards left me and fled for their lives! I was left alone and I could have easily escaped if I wanted to. But I knew it was the end of Ayub. Bhutto and Mujib and others had to be released. This was in ’69 – the Round Table Conference had failed. There was Ayub’s broadcast and Yahya’s takeover. Air Marshal Nur Khan became Governor of Baluchistan. Our properties were restored and other festering matters dealt with.

“Nur Khan was the only one who made a genuine effort to find out and tried to resolve problems as much as he could. But probably most things were beyond his authority and powers as Governor. During his time people were breathing more freely. Soon after, Yahya visited all the provinces. We demanded provincial status one-men, one vote. He later announced the dissolution of One Unit. He started on the right foot. Even people who didn’t like him, gave him credit.

How do you view the future?

“I don’t know if we have a future,” he replied. “The development going on doesn’t tell you what it really is? We only know what the papers say. Quetta is a show-piece. While I was in jail in Ayub’s time, there was a lot of talk about crores being poured into Baluchistan’s development. I started computing the crores that were claimed. By the time I was released it came to several billions in Baluchistan. But I came back to the same old desert, I saw the same broken roads and houses. I saw no great difference except that certain military roads and cantoments had been constructed. But military roads are not for the people.

“It was the same in Bhutto’s time. Ayub built six long military roads. Bhutto added twenty more links, and airfields and helipads, and landing fields. I don’t think any Baluch has any private aircraft or helicopters. At the tail end of Bhutto’s time, cantonments and pucca forts were built to house their own forces – not Baluch.’  This continued till early last year. In Dera Bugti a fort was completed which was started in Bhutto’s time. In Kaghan, Nathiagali, Pat and Marri areas, Jhalawan and Sarawan areas, there are a dozen forts, In all there are 38 – some completed, some under construction, for permanent troops to be housed. I asked, under what heads do you call this development? The reply was, Baluchi tribals are employed in building. I say they are digging their own graves. Mazduri to fortify the army is called development.”

‘In January this year there was a lot of hoo-ha about 44 lacs being spent on the inauguration of Quetta pipeline. Political bribery. The Britishers did the same when they laid the railway line. Two purposes then – the Afghanistan war, and to bribe the locals. Now it’s happening for the second time. Sui gas, which is a product of Baluchistan, has been supplied to all of Pakistan for 20 years or more. Now, when the gas is nearly depleted – only 10 -15 years worth left, they give Quetta a small pipeline and make a big story of it.”

“In the last few years, foreign money is pouring into Baluchistan. The Western and Arab world have suddenly discovered a place called Baluchistan and its importance ever since the Russian presence in Afghanistan. But most projects are ‘pocket’ schemes – they go into the pockets of officials and blue-eyed notables. Now the sizes of the pockets have increased, they’ve become gunny bags. And a little trickles into ‘development’. But that doesn’t win the loyalty of the locals or gratefulness to foreigners, whatever their intentions are. You can pour in billions but you can’t buy Baluchistan and the Baluchis. No government consultations are held with tribal elders on projects.

“The point is that today Baluchistan, especially the coast, is of greater superpower interest than the Punjab. As a vital strategic link, this can unfortunately be a battlefield where we’ll be crushed under foot. Already, one is not safe is one’s own land. In Bhutto’s time, many people were forced to leave their homes, hearths and families and settle in another country ! This regime announced amnesty several times – but we’ve had experience of amnesty before. Less than 100 took advantage of it and half of them were Pakhtuns, not Baluch. The guerillas who stayed away are, the ones who helped bring together the Marris and Bugtis and the temporary ceasefire preceding the final peace.”

“What about education?”

“There are small colleges with handfuls of students here and there. The idea is not to bring true education but to keep the students away from Quetta where they might consolidate their strength. It’s safer to keep them dispersed. People who have a college or even a middle-school education are maladjusted because there are no corresponding jobs. When I was Governor, I sought to have mobile dispensaries and mobile schools so that they could follow the semi-nomads and nomads. That’s the only way until there’s full development to enable people to settle down. But nothing came of it. You should have institutions to suit people, not the other way round.”

Almost eight hours had slipped by since the interview had begun. Coffee, tea and soft drinks had made endless rounds with lunch fitted in somewhere in between without once interrupting the flow of conversation. The Tumandar hadn’t asked whether we would care to join; he simply took it for granted as the hospitality extended to guests. Many questions were left unasked. It was his life I’d come to hear about. At times I felt we were drifting off the central theme, talking only of politics but then came the realization that as a Baluch and a tribal chieftain, deeply disturbed about the future of his land and people, all that Akbar Bugti had spoken of was his whole life. A greater urgency was building up as he approached his sixtieth year and no satisfactory solution to the dilemma of his people, appeared in sight.

Outside, the rain fell in torrents. It was time to leave. The countless other questions would have to wait. Saying our goodbyes, we stepped out from the storm within to the storm outside

Attribution : Originally published by the Herald: DAWN group under the title Akbar Bugti .  Republished for educational purposes.
Author profile: The writer is a former journalist and currently director of The Green Economic Initiative at Shirkat Gah, a rights and advocacy group