Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Recollections and remembrances

EARLY YEARS.Omar KureshiI was in London on April 4th 1979. Very early in the morning the telephone rang.The ringing of a telephone bell at that early hour has the menacing urgency of afire-alarm. It was a friend who simply said: “Turn on the radio.” It was less of acommand and more a cry of anguish; such was the tremor in the voice. I presseda few knobs of the bedside radio and finally heard a newscaster announcing thatthe death sentence of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto had been carried out. Disbelief turned torage and rage settled into grief. A close friend had died. He had been an electedPrime Minister (the first ever) of our country. It seemed to me to be an evilmoment and it was terrifying to consider the ramifications.I knew the phone would ring again and continue to ring and private grief wouldbe turned to public sorrow. My wife and I had planned to go to New Gardensand we did. April is the month when the seasons change shifts and flowers arebegotten and the leaves on the trees are a fresh green it provides a kind ofreassurance.Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and I went back many years. Had he lived our friendshipwould have been hearing the half century mark. We had been school-boystogether at The Cathedral School in Bombay. We had played cricket indeed thathad been the bond. We bunked classes to watch the Muslims play in ThePentagular, celebrated their triumphs and agonized over their defeats. I think ourforemost ambition then was to become first class cricketers. We swam and playedsquash at The Willingdom Club, went to the cinema he carrying a torch for AnnSheridan and I for Esther Williams but both Gary Cooper fans. Our families werefriends and there was much coming and going, they had a house on the sea-frontin Worli and we also on the sea front, in Shivaji Park. It was an unexceptionalboyhood happy, carefree and the only sorrow we knew was when it rained andthe cricket was washed out.When the time came to go abroad for studies, we both went to the University ofSouthern California and were roots-states at Mrs. Bess Jones Lodgings on SouthFlower Street and Jefferson Boulevard. It was a typical student’s rooming house.Mrs. Jones was a patient landlady but we really never gave her any cause forcomplaint. We were not bell-raisers. Sometimes we would fall behind in our rent($ 5 a week) and Mrs. Jones would slip a note under our door. We would tell herabout exchange restrictions in our country and since she had no idea of what wewere talking about, she never threatened its with eviction. We bought a car jointlya Nash from a used-car lot of The Smiling Irishman. When it was asked aboutRichard Nixon: “Would you buy a used car from him?” I often thought of TheZulfikar Ali Bhutto, Recollections and Remembrances; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 50