17

The road to hell
Sahibzada Raoof Ali, while talking to me one evening in late 1976, pre­dicted that new elections would be held shortly.
“How come, sir?” I asked him. “There are still about two years to go be­fore elections will be due. Why should Bhutto Sahib bring it for­ward?”
“To satisfy the Americans,” he replied.
During at a meeting on narcotics, a senior U.S. delegate had told Sa­hib­zada Sa­hib that Presi­dent-elect Jimmy Carter had decided that Ameri­can aid in future would be given only to the genuinely elected governments in the Third World because backing the dictators there had made America unpopular among their people. Sahibzada thought that Bhutto was quite shrewd and would like to get a fresh mandate before he dealt with the new Ameri­can ad­ministration.
In those days, I was not in the mainstream of the general admini­stra­tion but did hear about many misdeeds of the Bhutto government. Punjab was seething with resentment and despondency under the op­pression of a ruthless administration. The people were losing faith in the due process of law. Some friends of Mustafa Khar had been taken to Dulai Camp in Azad Kashmir and were being tortured there without even admitting that they were in cus­tody. Writ petitions were filed in the Lahore High Court for their release but Azad Kashmir, where the camp was located, was out of its jurisdiction. In public perception, Bhutto was responsible for the murder of Nawab Muhammad Ahmad Khan. (He was later tried on this charge and was ultimately hanged. More about it in the next chapter.) Hanif Ramay had been dismissed and sent from the Chief Minister House to the infamous interrogation center in the La­hore Fort for pleading in his book, “The Case of the Punjab,” a fair deal for the largest province. Raja Munawwar and many of Ramay’s other friends had joined the Muslim League. Nawab Sadiq Husain Qureshi, consid­ered to be only a stooge of Bhutto and without any following of his own, had become the Chief Minister. Jama’at-i-Is­lami, Tehrik-i-Istiqlal and Pakistan Democratic Party, under their respec­tive lead­ers, Mian Tufail Muhammad, Asghar Khan and Nawabzada Nasrulla, were very active in mobilizing the public opinion against the oppressive govern­ment.
In the Punjab, there were frequent bomb blasts, for which the govern­ment blamed the National Awami Party and its leader, Wali Khan, but the people pointed their fingers towards Bhutto and his Federal Security Force. An ASI of FSF in plain clothes was caught red-handed by passengers at the Lahore railway station while planting a bomb in the bathroom of the com­partment in which Air Marshal Asghar Khan was traveling so that a case could be made against him and his party. The ASI was saved by the Rail­way Police from being lynched by the public but in the pro­cess he blurted out his identity. The press had been gagged and even an incident like that could not find any men­tion. The news, as it happens in such condi­tions, traveled far and wide by word of mouth.
There was turmoil elsewhere also. NWFP was already afire with Wali Khan and other NAP leaders facing their trial for treason before a tribunal in Hyderabad. Balochistan had been trampled by army action since long and most of the leaders there had fled to Afghanistan. Even situ­ation in Sindh, the home province of Bhutto, was not calm. There were disturbing reports from Karachi.
There was fear all around. The administration, thoroughly unnerved, had become totally subservient and was willing to carry out all orders, right or wrong, of the rulers. I could see a strong storm coming but most public ser­vants thought everything was under tight control. The Intelligence Bu­reau, Inter Services Intelli­gence, Special Branches of the provinces and the district ad­ministra­tions were describing the situation as “most ideal.” Such assess­ments could not be made after what had been done to the people un­less the officers were totally oblivious of the situation on the ground. So I could not agree with colleagues in the intelligence agencies, who would re­peat the same views to me also. Only a politician with insight can make a realistic assess­ment of the political situation, not an obsequious bureaucrat, whose mind works in a to­tally different way. A bureaucrat will always be indifferent, if not hostile, to public feelings. It will take an extraordinary ef­fort for him to have empathy and identity with public feelings and reach the right con­clu­sions. So, I have always been suspicious of the bureaucratic assess­ments of public opinion on politics and social issues.
By then Bhutto had been surrounded by those who urged “strong admin­istrative approach,” which would cause only al­ienation of the people. The so-called strong and shrewd administrators like Saeed Ahmad Khan, Waqar Ah­mad, Masood Mahmood, Wakil Khan and their ilk had already taken Bhutto on the dark path of illegality and criminality to a point of no return.

Bureaucrats have their way. My friend, Tikka Muhammad Iqbal Khan, an intelligent, well-informed and saga­cious poli­tician, was close to Bhutto. He asked me for my assessment several times and I explained to him the risks in holding elec­tions. I pointed out the loss of Bhutto cha­risma, that had been caused by high-handedness and foolishness of his so-called strong administrators. He agreed with me generally but said that the assessments of all intelli­gence agencies and senior officers about elections were totally different from mine. He could not persuade Bhutto to change his mind and the bureaucrats had the last word. The general elections to the Na­tional and Provincial Assemblies were an­nounced to be held on March 7 and 10, 1977, respectively. Carried away by the possibility of a dazzling display of popularity, Bhutto had gambled his po­litical career on the as­sessments of a few bureaucrats, who had no awareness of the public mood and political dy­namics and probably were also not loyal to him.
Immediately after the announcement of elections, nine opposition par­ties joined to form the Pakistan National Alliance (PNA), something Bhutto had been told was not likely. It was a severe blow to Bhutto’s hopes for a two-thirds majority but now it was too late to do anything except to concen­trate on the election campaign and administrative manipulations. Bhutto based his ap­peal to the people on his achievements in foreign affairs. He had re­covered occupied territory as well as POWs without conceding any­thing to India. There were no war trials and no division of assets with Bang­ladesh. Then he had really put the scattered pieces together and built up the morale of the peo­ple and the army. He also gave the country a consen­sus constitution. He genuinely felt proud of his achievements, little realizing that he had squan­dered away everything by rid­ing roughshod in matters of in­ternal administra­tion. He forgot that oppressive measures had not helped Yahya Khan even under martial law. How could such methods help a poli­tician, whose authority depended entirely on the goodwill of the people?
As the election campaign picked up, PNA was dominating while PPP ap­peared to be on the run. The PNA played on the theme of inhu­man treat­ment and tyranny by Bhutto against his political adversaries and at­tracted tremen­dous public response. The religious parties in the PNA mo­bilized their committed and diehard workers. Bhutto also committed a seri­ous blunder by getting himself elected unopposed from Larkana. To prevent him from filing his nomi­nation papers in time, the abduction of his oppo­nent, Maulana Jan Mu­hammad Abbasi, of Jama’at-i-Islami, was arranged, allegedly by Khalid Kharal, Deputy Commissioner (later Information Minis­ter in Benazir’s second government). All Chief Ministers followed the exam­ple set by their leader and got themselves elected unopposed. Thus a linger­ing doubt was cast over the whole election process right from the beginning.
In that suspicious and charged atmosphere, the elections to the Na­tional Assembly were held on March 7. The people showed great enthusi­asm and participated in large numbers. Most people believed that PNA had won but the results next day gave a landslide victory to the PPP. There was a wide­spread rejection of the results and the PNA leadership announced the boycott of the provincial elections scheduled for March 10.
I saw the roads deserted on March 8 as I traveled from Rawal­pindi to La­hore by road. The people appeared to be in a state of shock as if they had been betrayed and robbed. The deadly silence spoke vol­umes and could be the pre­cursor of a big storm. The boycott of elec­tions to the Pro­vincial As­semblies on March 10 was complete because the polling stations had been de­serted and very few voters turned up. Still, the official results showed “heavy turn-out.” That claim washed away whatever was left of the credibility of the elections. Thus, any remaining doubts about the alle­ga­tions of rigging in the Na­tional Assembly elections were also gone.

Beginning of the end. It did not take long for the Pakistan Na­tional Al­liance to give momentum to its agitation against Bhutto. It soon organ­ized itself into a movement, with highly motivated wings for students, women, lawyers and la­bour. A large procession, led by Asghar Khan, was taken out in Lahore from Nila Gumbad, near Anarkali Bazaar. Then pro­cessions started coming out everywhere despite unprecedented repression by the government machinery. The campaign picked up in intensity, volume and scope through­out the coun­try while the administration tried to crush it ruth­lessly with lathi-charge, tear gas and at places even with firing that caused many casualties. Fre­quent gen­eral strikes paralyzed business and industry. There was vio­lence all around, with the protesters often indulging in arson and loot­ing. The fact was that those who had sown the wind of violence and illegalities were now reaping the whirlwind. The people who had been suppressed so long were now up in arms.
The PPP as a party was not visible and the situation was being han­dled by the government machinery only as a law and order issue. There were in­creased attacks on the PPP offices, its important leaders and their properties. In Lahore, Ratan Cinema and a hotel on McLeod Road, both belonging to PPP stalwarts, were burnt, along with some persons inside. Great fear was created among the PPP leaders and workers and many started leaving their resi­dences. The religious leaders introduced a very at­tractive slogan, Nizam-i-Mustafa (the administrative system of the Holy Prophet), and the movement, already con­sidered “a jihad against an op­pressive un-Islamic government,” took a new dimension.
The worst came on April 9, when the newly elected Punjab Pro­vincial Assembly was to meet in Lahore. The whole city appeared to be protesting. No government-owned public bus could move on the roads and any that did was burnt. Many processions were converging on the Assembly chambers. IGP Ch. Fazl-i-Haq was himself on the spot. The lower echelons became nervous because of his presence and went awry, committing serious errors of judgment. The police stopped the processions on various roads leading to the Assembly chambers, resulting in many deaths and inju­ries by police firing. There was arson and looting all day long.
The way a procession of women was handled near the Civil Lines po­lice station will always be a black mark on PPP. A day earlier, a large num­ber of prostitutes were recruited as temporary policewomen, ironi­cally by a police officer who is now a Haji and claims to be very relig­ious. They were pro­vided hurriedly sewn uniforms and were asked to remain ready in the police station. (They came to be known as “the Nath Force,” because nath, a circu­lar orna­ment worn by women at the nose end, has a special signifi­cance for prosti­tutes. When a virgin prostitute is deflowered after a kind of auction held at a special function by her guardians, the ceremony is called “removal of the nath.”) The Nath Force pounced upon the women in the procession, abused them in filthiest possible language, manhandled them, even tore their clothes. This incident, one of the most quoted, caused great revulsion among the peo­ple, whose social norms demand decent treatment to women even in the worst conditions.
Bhutto was in Lahore and monitored the operations himself. He must have realized the gravity of the situation after watching the mood of the peo­ple. The same evening he called on Maulana Maudoodi, head of Jama’at-i-Islami, at his home in Ichhra to seek his support in calming the masses but it was already too late. Moreover, the PNA was not Maudoodi’s Jama’at alone. It had eight other parties, with units to the lowest levels, which car­ried on the movement even after the major leaders were arrested.
The PNA had 31 demands, with resignation of Bhutto being at the top. Bhutto tried surreptitiously to win over Rafiq Bajwa, the Secretary General of PNA, who became a pariah the moment people came to know that he had se­cretly met the Prime Minister in Rawalpindi, having flown from Lahore under a pseudo­nym. The time for tricks was over.
Tikka Iqbal, an advisor to the Punjab Governor Sadiq Husain Qureshi, would visit me frequently to discuss the situation. I would tell him that the only way out was conciliation instead of confrontation, dialogue rather than danda. He would agree with me but say that Bhutto had been surrounded by hawks, who had made it an ego issue for him. Bhutto himself was not pre­pared to believe that “a group of pig­mies” could outdo him in politics. He consid­ered it beneath his position to have dialogue with people like Nas­rulla Khan, Mufti Mahmood, Asghar Khan, Wali Khan and others. Both sides were locked in a no-win situation. Bhutto wanted to crush PNA while PNA was determined to bring him down.

Danda, not dialogue. In that atmosphere of deathly deadlock, a friend, Mian Ahmad Ali, told me that he had met Nasrulla Khan and Hamza in the PNA of­fice and they were sure of their ultimate success.
“I don’t think they can succeed,” I observed. “In my assessment, Bhutto will fight to the end. In the process, the system may fail and democ­racy will be the casualty.”
“What is the way out, then?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I think a face-saving way out has to be given to Bhutto. He too is trapped.”
“How can it be done?”
“PNA cannot negotiate a way out unless it is prepared to drop the de­mand for Bhutto’s resignation,” I replied. “Don’t expect him to commit po­litical suicide. If the demand for resignation is dropped, a compromise can become easy.”
I was expressing my opinion only on his asking but Mian Ahmad Ali went to Nasrulla Khan, who according to him, was quite amenable to the idea and had said that the demand for resignation was only a pressure tactic. Mian believed that sincere moves for a settlement were likely to be welcome by PNA. He asked me to intervene.
“How can I?” I observed. “I am not a politician.”
While we were talking, Tikka Iqbal dropped in and joined our discus­sion. The consensus was that negotiations should take place to find a way out and the demand for Bhutto’s resig­nation should be dropped. Tikka Iqbal pursued the idea with Bhutto.
The next day, April 23, Nasrulla Khan was also arrested, to the utter dis­appointment of Ahmad Ali, but the idea had been floated. In the first week of May, Muhammad Arshad Chaudhri, a senior leader of Nas­rulla’s Pakistan Demo­cratic Party, told me that negotiations between the PNA and Bhutto had been arranged through the mediation of Saudi Arabian Ambas­sador, Riaz al-Khatib, and were taking place in the Po­lice College, Sihala. But somehow the negotia­tions broke down after only a few days and all PNA leaders were sent to far-off jails.
The agitation was continued by the next tier of leadership and gained so much intensity that the army had to be called in several cities. Even the army was resisted and people came forward to lay down their lives. A few senior army officers refused to order firing on the protest­ing crowds during the lim­ited martial law imposed in three big cities. The martial law was, however, de­clared unconstitutional by Lahore and Sindh High Courts. The chiefs of army, navy and air force, in a very unusual move, expressed public support for the constitutional government by appearing on television but the people were not impressed and the agitation did not abate. Asghar Khan, a retired air force chief, wrote an open letter to the armed forces, urging them to do their consti­tutional duty by removing an illegitimate government that had violated the constitution blatantly.
On the other side, Bhutto went into the bazaars of Rawalpindi, waving a letter of the U.S. Secretary of State and describing the whole agitation as a part of the U.S.-sponsored grand design against him. It did not cut much ice.
I happened to meet the President, Ch. Fazal Elahi in May while I was in Rawalpindi for a meeting. Even a man of his insight thought that the situation could be controlled by sufficient military force, as was done in 1953 in La­hore during the anti-Ahmadiya agitation. “Sir, 1977 is not like 1953 and the issue has a much wider appeal,” I told him. He did not agree with me when I men­tioned the need for a meaningful dialogue.
Some desperate measures were being taken. Mustafa Khar re­joined the PPP and became a Special Assistant to the Prime Minister. Bhutto seemed to have reconciled with him to extricate himself from the Dulai camp mess. Rao Rashid was posted as the DIB in those very days in place of Sh. Muhammad Akram. Still wise counsel was not prevailing. Tikka Iqbal ap­peared dis­mayed. He told me, “Anybody suggesting a political way out is dubbed by the hawks in the chambers of power as disloyal, traitor and an enemy of Bhutto.”

Unscheduled entry in the act. While in Islamabad for an offi­cial meeting on treatment and rehabilitation of drug addicts, I went to see my friend Arshad Chaudhri at his home on June 3. A large number of IB and SB staff outside it created an eerie atmosphere. I did not know what was happening inside. I entered the house in my usual manner and found Pir Pagara, Nawabzada Nasrulla Khan, Mufti Mah­mood and Prof. Ghafoor in the drawing room. Prof. Ghafoor was giving an interview to a BBC corre­spon­dent. The leaders were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. I had most innocently and unwittingly walked on to the stage of the political drama while it was at its climax. I immediately realized the gravity of my mistake and left the house with the profoundest apologies. It occurred to me that they might suspect me for spying on them on behalf of the Government. That would make me look dishonourable in their eyes. But then I thought that they were intelligent people and would under­stand that such things were never done in that naive manner.
I had hardly reached my room in the Government Hostel when I got a call from Naseeb Butt, Personal Assistant to SP, Special Branch, Rawal­pindi, who had served with me also. He told me that my visit to the house of Arshad Chaudhri had been reported immediately. He knew that Arshad Chaudhri was an old friend of mine but was afraid that the visit would be definitely misunderstood. I was really worried because Waqar Ah­mad, Sec­retary Establishment, was very quick in taking summary action on the small­est lapse of a government officer.
I went to see DIB Rao Rashid the same evening and told him about my visit to the house of Arshad Chaudhri. I had served with him while he was IGP Punjab. He was delighted to know about the inci­dent and wanted me to col­lect information on what was going on in that house. He told me that serious negotiations between Bhutto and PNA had been ar­ranged and the leaders had been brought to Islamabad for that pur­pose. Rao Rashid told me that he sin­cerely wanted the negotiations to suc­ceed and I believed him because he was an honourable man.
I had really landed myself in a strange and a difficult situation. I ru­mi­nated over the matter and then went to Arshad Chaudhri and told him of my con­versation with Rao Rashid. I was in a moral conflict as I did not want to be­have dishonourably towards any party. He discussed the matter with Nasrulla Khan and later told me that I was welcome any time into his house because the PNA leaders had nothing to hide. In fact, they would pre­fer that truth should reach Bhutto through a channel of his own choice in­stead of conjectures that could vitiate the whole process.
I told Rao Rashid that I had discussed everything with Arshad Chaudhri. “He says even Rao Sahib himself is welcome to listen to our de­liberations,” I said. “Their only concern is that they may not be cheated. Their ulti­mate objective is to have free and fair elections to the National and Provincial Assemblies.”

Bhutto drags his feet. During the negotiations, Bhutto was assisted by Maulana Kausar Niazi and Hafiz Peerzada while Mufti Mahmood, the Presi­dent of PNA, was assisted by Nasrulla Khan and Prof. Ghafoor. Both teams worked hard over a long and difficult agenda. The PNA wanted the issues to be resolved in the shortest possible time so that it could go for re-elections while Bhutto wanted to drag the negotiations so that the agitation cooled off. Bhutto wanted to pro­long not only the negotiations but even the re-elections if ultimately agreed to. While the negotiations were going on, he left on a tour of several Muslim countries to give an im­pression that he was taking things easy and there was nothing seriously wrong at home. But the time for tricks had passed. Now truth had to triumph, as Arshad Chaudhri always said.
On the streets, another kind of confrontation was being built up. Mustafa Khar was belatedly organizing the PPP workers in the Punjab to come out and dis­play “the popularity of PPP and Bhutto.” It was a danger­ous game and cre­ated the specter of a civil war. The concern of the army became known both to Rao Rashid and PNA.
The parleys were resumed on the return of Bhutto but this round started in a more vitiated atmosphere. PNA leaders wanted to fix a deadline for an accord or they would step up the movement and be ready to go to jail again.
The negotiating team used to brief the PNA Council on the progress of talks and get briefing for the next session. In one such meeting, they de­cided that everyone should get his clothes washed on double rate (for ex­press deliv­ery) so that they did not go to jail while waiting for clean clothes from the laundry. Rao Rashid informed Bhutto about it and he in turn men­tioned it to the negotiating team to impress them with his ability to know all about them.

Zia brings darkness. Around June 26, I came to know that se­cret preparations were being made for the imposition of martial law. Rao Rashid was upset when I told him about it.
“You have brought bad news,” he commented.
“Bad but true,” I said. “Only four generals are not in favour of mar­tial law, according to my information. All others are for it because they think there will be civil war after the breakdown of negotiations. The PPP workers will come out against the PNA workers and there will be a blood bath. The generals also believe that there is a plan to kill all PNA leaders.”
“Somebody is painting a wrong picture to prejudice the generals,” he said.
“May be but Bhutto Sahib should clinch the issue with maximum speed instead of moving at a snail’s pace. I am certain about the need for urgency. If the negotiations are finalized in time, the danger to de­mocracy will be over.” He agreed with me.
“What will be the likely outcome in case of re-elections?” he asked.
“PPP is likely to get a comfortable majority at least in the Pun­jab.” I gave him my assessment.
The next day Arshad Chaudhri came to know independently that martial law was imminent. “Something should be done to stop it,” he sug­gested.
“The only thing that can do it is the immediate finalization of the ac­cord,” I told him.
I again went to Rao Rashid to tell him what Arshad Chaudhri had learnt through his own independent source.
“Bhutto does not believe it,” Rao Rashid told me. “He thinks it is a PNA pressure tactic.”
“Even then there is no harm in finalizing the matter immediately,” I said.
I suggested that the parleys might be held continuously and no­body should be allowed to get up until an accord was reached. The PNA and PPP teams did hold the parleys the whole night on June 28 and reached an ac­cord.
“They followed your advice literally,” Rao Rashid told me the next day. “Your name will go down in history.”
I smiled and thanked him. “I’ll be very happy even if I am men­tioned in a footnote.”
The next day I met Mustafa Khar in the Prime Minister House and told him that martial law would come if the accord was not made public im­medi­ately. He did not believe me.
“If martial law was to be imposed, the best time was 9th April,” he said. “There is no chance of martial law now. Earlier the PPP workers were de­moralized. Now they have somebody to look up to.” His tone showed great confidence.
“Well, sir, I have given you the information,” I said. “You can still avert it.” I passed on the information to Maj. Gen. Imtiaz, Military Secretary to Prime Minister, and also to Ch. Anwar Aziz, my friend and a very shrewd politician, but both did not like to believe it.
After an agreement had been reached on June 28, the PNA team had to face great opposition in their Council. Air Marshal Asghar Khan was talking tough. The accord provided for fresh elections in three months, on October 18 to be exact, under the supervision of a supreme council, com­posed of equal number of members from the Government and the opposi­tion. Air Marshall demanded that the accord should become a part of the Consti­tution and be enforceable through the Supreme Court. He took Nas­rulla Khan aside and told him that he would get the new elections from the army within three months but Bhutto could not be relied upon to be fair during re-elections and might even resile from his commitment after the agi­tation cooled off. On the insistence of Air Marshal, the venue for further PNA Council meetings was shifted to the house of Col. Tasaddaq, of Tehrik-i-Istiqlal, instead of the home of Arshad Chaudhri. I smelled a rat.
I told Rao Rashid about the thinking of Air Marshal Asghar Khan. Bhutto was pleased that there were serious differences within the PNA. He was trying to catch on a straw.
“Bhutto is satisfied that the army will not interfere,” he told me. “It has been checked for him by Gen. Tikka Khan. It is difficult to press the point any further.” Rao was showing helplessness.
The PNA, under pressure from Asghar Khan, continued to insist that the accord should be a part of the constitution while Bhutto believed that it would make the constitu­tion a joke. He was happy that PNA leaders were fighting among them­selves. The boat seemed to be capsizing within sight of the coast. Those who had laid down their lives to restore the sanctity of the ballot box had actually paved way for another martial law because the self­ish­ness and short-sightedness of a few leaders on both sides were leading the country there.
I was with Sahibzada Farooq Ali, the Speaker of the National As­sembly, in the afternoon of July 4 when Arshad Chaudhri came rushing with the informa­tion that martial law would be imposed that night. What could be done? It was too late but there was a fighting chance. He rushed to the home of Col. Tasaddaq where a press conference was to be addressed by all PNA leaders to dispel an impression of dissension. Arshad Chaudhri called Nawabzada outside and informed him of the latest development. Arshad re­quested him to address the confer­ence himself to make the accord public immediately, even if others did not agree. Nasrulla Khan did that but it was too late. His an­nouncement that ac­cord had been reached did not appear in the next morn­ing’s newspapers.
All efforts to save the democratic system ultimately failed. The army moved in during the night and arrested all major leaders of both sides. The martial law was imposed on the night of July 5. Gen. Mu­hammad Zia-ul-Haq, Chief of Army Staff, became the Chief Martial Law Administrator. Zia, which literally means “light,” brought another dawn of darkness and another—much longer—night of the generals.

Raj kare-ga Khalsa. The mood of the people changed overnight. Most of those who had been opposing Bhutto and PPP suddenly turned their ire against the martial law as the pain of the earlier regimes had not yet been for­gotten. Gen. Zia, while intending the very opposite, had given a new political life to the dying PPP as there was a sudden sentimental surge in fa­vour of Bhutto and his party. Gen. Zia was shocked on the reaction of the people, as Maj. Gen. Abdur Rahman told me. He was looking into the womaniz­ing epi­sodes of Rao Rashid. “Some women of taste did like Rao Rashid for his being handsome and manly,” I told Gen. Rahman. “Why should CMLA bother about that? He had better worry about the public mood.”
I also told A.R. Shefta, a close friend of Gen. Zia, about the pub­lic re­jec­tion of martial law. Shefta later told me that the General had decided to revive democracy and hold elections shortly but was worried about the out­come.
“Tell him not to worry,” I assured him. “PNA will secure a ma­jor­ity.”
“But the General’s worry is that PNA will fall apart and Bhutto would be back in power.”
“Politically strong Bhutto will keep the PNA united,” I said. “The Gen­eral should not worry on that score.”
“Why don’t they merge into one party?” Shefta expressed the Gen­eral’s wish.
“That is difficult as every party has its background, history and pro­gramme,” I explained. “They were united as an alliance only on a minimum programme. You should not expect PNA to become a single party. They will, however, remain united against Bhutto. The regime should go ahead with the elections on October 18 as already an­nounced.”
“No elections in that case. No question of it.” He spoke with an air of finality, sitting in his suite in the Lahore Inter-Continental Hotel. “Why should the General get shoe-beating from Bhutto for the sake of these rag tag politi­cians and mullas if they cannot get together.” He seemed to be fully aware of the General’s thinking.
I was silent and looked out of the window. It was August 8. A multi­tude of poor people was walking to the airport to receive Bhutto, who was coming to Lahore for the first time after his dismissal. Shefta also watched them. The lines went on, unbroken.
“I don’t agree with your assessment, Sardar Sahib,” Shefta broke the si­lence. “Bhutto will win and destroy my friend Zia.” He was still looking at the unending stream of people on the Mall outside. I did not say any­thing. Fear is very difficult to shake off, especially for the peo­ple who walk in the corridors of power.
During our evening walk, I told A/Hameed about my conversation with Shefta.
“There will be no elections on October 18,” he said. “PPP and PNA will have to join hands if they want to dislodge the General.”
I could not believe my ears. In fact, I became annoyed with him. “The General has given a public commitment,” I protested. “How could he go back on that? It would be the worst example of public bad faith.”
A/Hameed said, “That is what will happen. You will see that raj kare-ga Khalsa, baqi rahe na ko. Only the Generals will rule.”
They started the game very soon. Begum Nasim Wali Khan had been one of the vociferous supporters of martial law to throw out Bhutto rather than have an agreement with him. So, one of the earliest steps of the new regime was to release Wali Khan and other NAP leaders. As a quid pro quo, Wali Khan demanded accountability of the Bhutto govern­ment before elec­tions were held, under the slogan of Pehle ihte­sab, phir intekhab (first accountabil­ity, then elections). His demand was supported also by some other PNA lead­ers, who were in favour of martial law. This demand was later used as one of the main justifica­tions to postpone elections.
While in Makkah on his umra visit, Gen. Zia announced his “determined resolve” to hold elections on schedule. And while in Teh­ran on his way back, he observed that the politicians “will follow me on my whis­tle.” The statement was resented but various politicians did follow him.
The elections were postponed because Bhutto had re-emerged as the most popular personality in the backdrop of martial law while in a demo­cratic process and struggle he had lost his popular appeal. The peo­ple re­jected him as a high-handed ruler but preferred even his tough tactics over martial law.
A/Hameed felt that Bhutto without power would grow in public es­teem. The image of a persecuting and bullying Bhutto would be re­placed by that of a suffering and struggling leader. Martial law would revive him as a hero who reconstructed the country after a humiliating defeat, got back the occu­pied territories, brought back the POWs and hosted the first and the only Is­lamic Summit in which every single member was represented. Now that he had lost his teeth that he used to bite indiscriminately, his sins of maladminis­tration and high-hand­edness would be forgotten and for­given.