LAST DAYS OF PREMIER BHUTTO KAUSAR NIAZY Reproduced in pdf form by Sani Panhwar Member Sindh Council, PPP CHAPTER 1 THAT HORRIFYING NIGHT “Abbaji ……Abbajan!” My son Rauf, affectionately called Roofi by the whole family was shaking me by the shoulder. He had barely called me the second time that I opened my eyes. His face seemed to be lined with worry. One look at his face and sleep fled from my mind and body. In a trice the fatigue of innumerable moments of constant wakefulness left me. It was the night between the 4th and 5th of July 1977. I had returned home at about seven or seven – thirty in the evening after attending a Cabinet meeting at the Prime Minister’s House. The political situation in the country had deteriorated to such an extent that today I can hardly recall any moment of rest or quietude in those days. Every hour that passed was only adding to the worsening chaos that had spread everywhere. Turmoil, strikes, processions and protest meetings - - it was a tidal wave of lawlessness and violence. All efforts to contain this relentless wave were proving futile. It appeared as if all that was happening was being directed by some inexorable law of nature, and that it was now beyond the power of any one of us to stop it. The Cabinet meeting was truly important and had ended at about 7.30 P.M. many issues of vital national consequence had been discussed. The chief of the Army staff, General Zia-ul–Haq, had also participated in the meeting after which he had gone along with Prime Minister, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, to his room. Some of us Cabinet stood chatting outside the conference room. Suddenly the General emerged from Mr. Bhutto’s room. He appeared to be in unusual hurry. Normally when the General shook hands with someone he would hold the other person’s hand in his powerful grip and would not let go easily. But that day when I shook hands with him he could barely touch my fingers. His face was devoid of his familiar smile. I immediately sensed that something was afoot. As I stood there thinking what it could be, Mir Afzal called me, Last Days of Premier Bhutto; Copyright © http://www.bhutto.org 2 “Aren’t you coming?” “yes, sure.” The two of us drove out of the Prime Minister’s House in the same car. As I peeped through the window and saw them for the last time. Someone inside me seemed to take up the refrain. “Time is up. After today, this ambience, this period, this epoch, all will come to an end. Bid your farewell to these things. I don’t remember how the rest of the journey was passed. Mir Afzal dropped me at my place and drove off. He lived only a short distance away. When I entered my house my three sons, Tariq, Rauf and Rizwan were still up. My wife and daughter had gone to Saudi Arabia for Umra. I called the three of them into my room, and gave Tariq some necessary instructions; I also gave him my cheque book and told him how to run the domestic affairs in my absences. I am happy that my sons understood the instructions in the exact sense in which I gave them. They were neither unduly hesitant nor perturbed. They too were aware of the daily worsening state of affairs. I advised them that if, in my absence, they were required to vacate the present accommodation they should look for a new place, and if none was immediately available they should leave for Lahore. During this period I received a telephone call from Raja Abdul Aziz Bhatti, MNA, from Rawalpindi. I repeated the same message to him, “Time is running out fast, the Army can take over any time; who knows whether even this night will pass off peacefully.” After telling my children to go to bed. I rang up my personal physician and friend in Karachi, Dr. Ajmeri. He was coming over to see me. “You’ve already delayed it, “I said to him, “may be you reach here tomorrow and will not be able to see us at all.” That night I lay down in my bed at about 1.30 or 1.45 by that time my eyelids were already under the pressure of sleep. And now when I was awakened by Roofi’s voice it was about 2.45 a.m. “What’s it, son? I asked, getting up from the bed, “is everything all right?” “Abbajan, some people have climbed up the roof; they have guns in their hands.” “Guns!” Last Days of Premier Bhutto; Copyright © http://www.bhutto.org 3 I started to walk out of the room. Yes! Please take your pistol along.” He pulled out the pistol from under my pillow and handed it over to me. At that moment I just could not figure out who the people could be who had climbed up my roof with guns. Roofi’s room faced the front. He saw two men climb the balcony with the help of the water pipe and then, after a few seconds, he saw two more climb up the same way. All four had guns in their hands. Seeing this, Roofi ran towards my room, and woke me up. I had now come out of my room with the gun in hand. I removed the curtain hanging over the door of the outer hall. In the light of the bulbs in the balcony I saw two soldiers close to the grill; their rifles aimed straight at me. My mind went straight back to the military coup of Bangladesh, which overthrew Sheikh Mujib–ur–Rehman. A spine – chilling wave ran through my body. It was a sort of feeling that could only be experienced by one who saw sure death confronting him. My mind was in a whirl. In a few seconds hundreds of scenes rushed across my eyes; clear in my imagination was the dead body of Sheikh Mujib writhing in dust and blood with corpses of his family members littered around. I felt that hell is about to be let loose. In an emotionless voice I addressed the two soldiers facing me. “Do you want to shoot or arrest?” I asked. “Sir, we want to arrest you.” One of them answered. I felt relieved and opened the door. “Can I change the cloths, or am I to go as I am?” I enquired. “You can change,” came the reply. Meanwhile one major and four more soldiers had entered my room. Roofi was witnessing the whole scene, ruffled and astonished. I told him not to wake Tariq and Rizwan, and that he should also better go to bed. Last Days of Premier Bhutto; Copyright © http://www.bhutto.org 4 I changed my cloths and then in order to inquire about the Prime Minister, I rang him up. First I picked up the green telephone, it was dead. I tried the others but those were also dead. The Captain seeing my plight informed me that all telephone lines had been disconnected, later I came to know that before coming to my residence the soldiers had occupied the telephone exchange. The operator there was dozing away. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by military jawans. He panicked thinking he had been caught sleeping during duty hours and that the military personnel would haul him up. In utter confusion he committed some stupidities. However a few whacks from the soldiers made him wide awake. Simultaneously they snapped the telephone wires. The initial violence that I felt in their behavior was due to some unpleasant incidents that occurred at the residences of Hazeef Pirzada and Gen. Tikka Khan. Mumtaz Bhutto is extremely fond of keeping high pedigree dogs. In the whole of the Sindh he is renowned for owing some of the finest and fiercest dogs. At this house the military men had to face some difficulty. Due to that experience they naturally concluded that in my house too they will come across some similar situation. But when they found perfect peace at my place, their sullen tempers underwent a pleasant change. I asked them if I could take along a copy of the Holy Quran, a prayer carpet and few pairs of clothes. “You are not allowed to carry anything along,” was the answer. “Has the army staged a coup?” I asked the Major. “Sir, we are not allowed to answer any such questions”, he said in a peculiar military tone. As we were going downstairs I heard someone call out, “Bring me a pair of slippers.” This was the voice of Hafeez Pirzada. I raised questioning eyes towards the Major. “Take it “, he said. I again went into my room, picked up a pair of slippers and came down. The whole compound full of uniformed soldiers. I gave the shoes to Hafeez Pirzada, who was in his sleeping trunks. He had accompanied the military men barefooted. We were made to sit in separate jeeps. As my jeep drove out of the main gate. I saw many soldiers in uniform posted around. They had a number of trucks and other vehicles with them for the Operation. Last Days of Premier Bhutto; Copyright © http://www.bhutto.org 5 When this convey reached Zero Point and halted there, the time must have been around 3.15. It was quiet and dark all around. At the cross roads I saw some military jeeps. “Why have we stopped her?” I asked the officer sitting beside me.