Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Recollections and Remembrances Foreword

their thousands to catch a glimpse of their political messiah. The air was rent with
“Bhutto Zindabad” and “Ayub Murdabad” slogans. The Shaheed led a massive
procession through the streets of Karachi, at each stage throwing down the
gauntlet to Ayub in defiant speeches. Things began to move at a very rapid pace
and finally Ayub Khan succumbed to relentless street pressure and handed over
power to Yahya Khan. An election date was announced and soon the Shaheed
was on the hustings touring the remotest corners of Pakistan long forgotten and
forsaken by the Country’s rulers. As a youth, I recall attending each and every
public meeting addressed by him in Karachi.
A few days prior to the general elections, I went to Larkana again with my
cousins. Finally, the day itself arrived and as the results began to come in, they
surpassed all our expectations. It was a resounding victory for the PPP and many
a feared and famous name fell before its electoral juggernaut. The Shaheed sat in
the lounge of Al-Murtaza listening to the results on the radio and accepting the
greetings of people who were steadily streaming in. The PPP had swept the polls
in West Pakistan and the Shaheed had confounded the establishment, the political
pundits and commentators who had forecast no more than a handful of scats for
him.
The Shaheed’s emphatic victory at the polls was followed by a dark and sordid
period in the country’s history precipitated by the ugly machinations and
Byzantinist game play of the military junta. After the fall of Dhaka a defeated and
dispirited junta handed over power of the truncated Pakistan to the Shaheed.
What followed was an epoch making period for Pakistan already recorded in
history and signed by the Shaheed in his own blood.
5th July 1977 was to be Pakistan’s blackest day. Like a thief in the dark, General
Zia overthrew the popular and democratic PPP government, followed by a
kangaroo trial and the judicial murder of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto in one of history’s
most sordid and vindictive court room plays. I was in London throughout most
of Shaheed’s incarceration as were Mir and Shahnawaz. In the last week of March
1979, Mir asked me to visit Pakistan with the purpose of meeting his father to
convey certain messages. At this time we were also busy organizing an
international jurists conference in London to review the trial papers and expose
the farcical nature of the entire trial. My task was also, therefore, to gather all the
legal material available and bring it back to London.
With some trepidation, I finally arrived in Rawalpindi and following my
application to the interior ministry, was given permission to meet my uncle on
27th March. I arrived at the Pindi jail at the appointed hour. On a long and
winding walk passing through many steel gates to his cell, my heart was heavy
and I could feel my entire body in a state of nervous affliction. It was like going to
see a lion caged. Through out the walk towards the cell, Yar Mohammed, the
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