Zulfi My Friend; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 1 Preface I LAY NO claim to objectivity, nor is this a biography in the true sense of the term. As a friend I find it difficult to attain the first—though I shall try; the second requires intensive research and a scholarly approach, either of which I refuse to plead guilty. In undertaking this task I have allowed myself the luxury of time that I cannot afford and fulfilled a fancy which I will not discuss. My excuse for writing this book is really a request made by the publisher and a pandering to a vanity I would have preferred to conceal. Zulfikar Ali Shahnawaz Bhutto has been, and will always continue to be a very dear friend—not because he is the most sensible of men, not because he is balanced and fair- minded, not because be is truthful and forthright, not because he is the President of Pakistan, but because he is Zulfi, warm and loyal to those whom he loves, affectionate and tolerant to human weakness. He also happens to be the central figure and dominant personality in the six most formative years of my life between 1945 and 1950, between the ages of 18 and 24. For India and what later became Pakistan, these were the crucial years. In 1945 Pakistan was a pipe dream; by 1946 it was an obsession, by 1947 an established fact. For two young men living in post War India it was the beginning of things, the fulfillment of national pride with the prospect of a great and glorious future. Our interminable conversations invariably started and ended with politics, having run through the entire gamut of life as we saw it— entertainment, movies, books, friends, sex and back to politics. Nehru, Jinnah and Mahatma Gandhi were all distant figures in a drama that involved considerable heat but little action. Had we agreed then, there would have been no argument: if we were to agree today, there would be no dialogue. By background, tradition, custom and family life we were poles apart; yet it made no difference. Its politics I was with India and Nehru, Zulfi was with Jinnah and Pakistan. Over the years I might have drifted away from Nehru, but Zulfi’s loyalty remained firm. New Delhi Piloo Mody Zulfi My Friend; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 2 1 First Encounter WAIT, I AM going down!” were the first words that I ever uttered to Zulfikar Ali Shahnawaz Bhutto. I was ten, and he was nine years sold. Both of us were at the Cathedral Boys’ School in Bombay. I was even in those days generously endowed and Zulfikar was only skin and bones held together by a squeaky high-pitched voice. Zulfi was really the friend of my cousin, Jehangir Mugaseth, the son of my mother’s younger sister. Of all my cousins, Jehangir was the closest to me, being of my age-group: he was only slightly younger than I; and his sister Silloo was only slightly older. As kids, we three grew up together, my own brothers being too old for me: Kali is four years my senior and Russi almost nine years older. Silloo and Jehangir always had a roomful of toys arid I used to go, or rather was sent, to play with them in the house where they lived at Byculia. Often they would come and spend weekends with me where we lived at Cuniballa Hill. Soon thereafter the Mugaseths moved to Marine Lines, Sjlioo went to the Cathedral Girls’ High School, and Jehangir followed me a year later to the Boys’ School. Zulfi, whose background I have already described, unfortunately had not gone to any school but had been taught this and that at home; he was being sent to school about the same time. Our Principal, Col. Hammond, thought that perhaps Zulfi should join the Girls’ School before he could be admitted into the first standard at the Boys’ School. But Zulfi revolted at the idea and Col. Hammond patted him on the back and said: “That’s the spirit, boy!” and admitted him into the first standard of the Boys’ School, where Jehangir was also studying. This is perhaps the main reason why Zulfi’s early school career was not as bright as it might have been, considering his potential—he was always trying to make up for the years lost in kindergarten and primary school. It is here that the two boys met and developed a friendship which included going to each other’s house to spend the day and play. It was on these occasions when Zulfi was playing at Jehangir’s house that I used to run into him. I still recall quite clearly seeing Zulfi in his boy scout’s khaki uniform, with its half pants, its broad leather belt, black woolen stockings and white sneakers, with a couple of green ribbons displayed at the calves to indicate that he belonged to Savage House of the Cathedral School. His whole make-up coupled with his high-pitched squeaky voice always seemed somewhat incongruous to me. That is how he remained in my memory as I went to the Doon School for the next five years. Zulfi continued at the Cathedral till I returned to Bombay in 1945 after having finished my H.S.C., to meet him again as a grown boy entering his final year in preparation for his Senior Cambridge examination at the Cathedral. His voice had improved, and he had grown to be a tall and good- looking adolescent with tolerable manners and the correct amount of deference. Zulfi My Friend; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 3 It is at this stage that our acquaintance developed and grew into a firm and permanent friendship. We two came from very different and divergent backgrounds. Zulfi belonged to the Bhutto family of Sindh. Where a rigid feudalistic society continues to exist even today; the Bhutto’s were one of the prominent clans, sharing with the Talpurs and the Pagaros a pre eminent position in Sindhi society. Where Sindh was concerned and where Sindhi opinion was required, the Government and the authorities invariably sought the views, co-operation and collaboration of some member or the other of these families as an indication of the fact that they were carrying Sindhi opinion with them It is surprising how, despite the constraints of such a rigid feudal system, Zulfi’s father, Sir Shahnawaz Bhutto, had managed to extricate himself and, through education and family background, create a position of importance for himself in British Indian society. Nevertheless, it is a fact that Zulfi’s father had acquired the reputation of being a spokesman of Sindh in British India, having been primarily responsible for the separation of Sindh from Bombay Presidency. Over a period of time he occupied important positions in Government and out of it, having been a member of the Bombay Legislative Council and the Chairman of the District Co-operative Bank of Larkana. He had been Chairman of the Bombay Provincial Committee which co-operated with the Indian Statutory Commission. Sir Shahnawaz had become the first non-official President of the Larkana District Board and was President of the Sindh Mohammedan Association. In 1931 Sir Shahnawaz, along with my father, attended the Round Table Conference on India, where his principal contribution was to demand a separate State for the Sindhis. In 1934 he was appointed a Minister of the Bombay Government. After the separation of Sindh he was made the Chief Adviser to the Governor of Sindh until a popular ministry could be installed after the elections of 1937. Sir Shahnawaz formed the Sindh United Party, won 18 out of sixty seats, but lost his own seat. This was typical of the man. He must have spent all his time and money getting his colleagues elected and must have neglected his own election. Many years later Zulfi was to do some thing similar of a much larger dimension and on a far bigger canvas in West Pakistan, but incidentally he also won six seats himself! Having failed to create a ministry of his own, Sir Shahnawaz returned to Bombay to become Chairman of the Bombay-Sindh Public Service Commission. In 1947 he moved to Junagadh, a small Princely State, and became the Dewan. Under Jinnah’s direction he advised the ruler to opt for Pakistan when the transfer of power took place—this action was responsible for at least a part of the bitterness initially caused during the partition of India. Coming from a wealthy Zamindar family in the days when taxation was reasonable, and practically non-existent for the Zamindars, the Bhuttos had acquired a vast fortune, the income from which was spent not always too wisely. Zulfi’s father was an eccentric and colourful character and there were several anecdotes that were floating around Bombay society about his aberrations. Zulfi My Friend; Copyright © www.bhutto.org 4 My father on the other hand grew up in a rather prosaic family whose values were more akin to those of Victorian society, with a spicing of the puritanical approach. Father studied at St. Xavier’s College with zest and energy and the confident feeling that some day he would amount to something. He always maintained a high sense of purpose and honor and had a ready wit and easy capacity to enjoy a joke at his own expense. His attitude towards money and wealth verged on the indifferent, and even in the days when his earnings were handsome, it did not whet his appetite for making or saving any money.