Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Recollections and remembrances

me. You are right --- O.K., go to them and tell them categorically that they shouldgive a call. Tell them these are my instructions. But go first to see Benazir andyour aunt at Sihala and apprise them also of what my directives are for the partyleaders.” We huddled in whispers again to exchange messages of confidence. Iwas to fly out to London the following day and some of the messages,particularly those for Mir were too vital and sensitive not to be completed in thegiven time. We were in mid-stream when Yar Mohammed suddenly interruptedto say. “Your 30 minutes are up.” “Just one minute one more minute.” imploredthe Shaheed with his index finger pointing upward. Folding his arms together,Yar Mohammed replied “Alright” with a generous smirk. Suddenly and withoutwarning the Shaheed got up from his chair and kicking it aside screamed. “GoTariq. I do not like this man’s patronizing attitude. I am still the elected PrimeMinister and do not want any favors from them.” He said that and took myhands to bid me farewell. That was to be last time we would ever meet again. Thefollowing morning I flew back to London with the trial documents and joined Mirand Shah in the helter skelter activity of organizing the international juristsconference.I was with Mir and Shah in their apartment till late on the night of 3rd April.Some encouraging news had arrived and certain developments had taken placethat caused us to be more content and complacent than in a long time. I returnedto my own flat and in the hope of an easy, undisturbed night’s sleep went to bedat around 2 am I was awakened at around 3.30 by the ring of the telephone. Stillhalf asleep and disoriented, I lifted the receiver. It was Mir on the line. They hadkilled Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. And along with him they had killed a little bit in all ofus.There was not a poor man’s child anywhere whose eyes did not well up in tears.In the early hours of the morning of 4th April, we bowed down towards Mecca inprayer. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto will no longer be with us. Mr. Bhutto my uncle is gonebut the legend survives. His voice is heard no more but as he had predicted songsof praise and poetry are recited in even corner of Pakistan where the poor puttheir feet clown. His memory is enshrined in history’s most dazzling corridors.No tank no jackboot can ever crush a legacy that lives in the hearts of the people.Bhutto belonged to the sweat and sorrow of this soil. His soul has mingled withthe soul of the multitudes who cry out in their sorrow and their pain “Jeay Bhutto.Jeay Bhutto”. They cannot bring him back but his name with every beat echoes intheir heart and his face mirrored through their tear soaked eyes carries a sadreminder of their anger and their shame. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto possessed vitalmagnetism which he transmitted to the people. He could touch the raw nerve oftheir emotion to generate sheer ecstasy or intense anger. He held their pulse in hishand. They would laugh with him and cry with him. He loved them and they inturn loved him. In his own words, it was his greatest love affair....his romancewith people. To see them together, the messiah and the mesmerized in the fieldsZulfikar Ali Bhutto, Recollections and Remembrances; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 48