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| India-Pakistan |
| Bibi come back |
| 2008-12-27 |
| By Palwasha, MNA A year has passed since Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto departed, leaving us in a black hole of emptiness and vacuum, where we could only feel pain and helplessness. I recall my slain leader as I lie in bed weak with a strange sense of desolation. One of the most active members of her team always ready to respond to her orders, I find myself limp with an aching heart. Garhi Khuda Baksh and every nook and cranny of the country will be awash in the resplendent colours of the PPP flags in days leading to her first death anniversary, every splash of red, green and black with a beautiful face with a halo around it, vibrant with life and determination, that of my leader Shaheed Mohtarma. Red perhaps now ominously stands for her historic sacrifice, the blood that she shed, Green for her homeland, In which she had great hope till she breathed her last and black perhaps for all of us that mourn her and will continue to do so all our lives. I cannot bring myself to call her deceased as I languish in denial, I still call her as my BIBI as for all these years that I spent in her service, I addressed her as “My Prime Minister”. All the best years of my youth were devoted to her and to the day when I could see all the collective efforts of her disciples culminate into a beautiful new day for the country. Sadly, that day will perhaps dawn with a Pakistan devoid of her. Her opponents continuously repeated, She will not return and She would not be allowed to return. As her anxious followers looked towards her with a creased brow, following such propaganda, she would always say reassuringly I will be with my people before the elections. Return, she did, as she promised, never to go back as she found herself a home in the hearts of millions of her country men. Those with tattered clothes, those that bathe in their own sweat toiling day in and day out, passing from youth to elderliness and waning a bit too quickly in the process. Those are her people, the teeming millions, she resides in their hearts, She indeed is the queen of hearts. Her ominous words ring in my ears as she called one morning not too many days before her shahadat, I see a lot of bloodshed, she said as she narrated to me how her workers were run over by a car in the constituency of Arbab Ghulam Rahim, don’t worry Mohtarma I said, everything will turn out to be fine. Little did I know that her were almost prophetic and that it would be her blood that would be spilled such brutally. Galliantly, like a medieval warrior, a knight in shining armour, she laid down her life for her people, those who honoured her memory with tears and aching hearts. Clinging to her posters as the last ray of hope, they almost believe she would be reincarnated. With meager earnings to boast of, I see the poor and the deprived investing into her beautiful posters selling at every traffic signal. They wish to hold on to her memories in whatever way, each one of them feels a little of Benazir Bhutto in them. Like the Rani of Jhansi and the Razia Sultan of the present day, I saw her never faltering, even during days when hope was grim, days when people abandoned us and her followers ran from pillar to post to get her message across. Repeat, Repeat and Repeat your message unless people hear it, Yes my beloved leader, people hear you loud and clear. Your words are forever embedded in the hearts and minds of the nation. I went to Garhi Khuda Buksh on her soyem as if in a trance I saw thousands mourning chanting to God that Benazir was innocent. I thought I would not make it to her grave. How would these mourners let me past, I was anxious to get to Bibi. Suddenly an old man appeared from no where, asked the crowds to make way and the crowds parted, and there I witnessed a most amazing sight, a huge grave, larger than any in the mausoleum, as if almost touching the sky. Covered with mounds of roses, “Majestic and regal even in death”, I thought just as in life. I touched the grave where I supposed her feet would be and begged for forgiveness as an ill-fated Pakistani who could do nothing to save my leader. The bullet shot at you my Bibi did not hit just you, It hit millions in a single shot, how can I ever find the words to pay a homage to you that is worthy of your glory. Perhaps such words have never been coined. A bit of something in everyone has died eversince. I looked at a devoted jiyala wanting to believe every word when he said, don’t worry I have dreamt that Bibi would come back in another form. Suddenly, I felt lighter as I whispered to myself, Bibi Come Back….your people yearn for you, My Leader. |
| Posted by:john frum |
| #4 If Israel could have a gandhi, I guess pakistan can have a bibi. |
| Posted by: liberalhawk 2008-12-27 22:36 |
| #3 |
| Posted by: gorb 2008-12-27 15:07 |
| #2 There is only one Bibi, Palwasha. |
| Posted by: g(r)omgoru 2008-12-27 12:56 |
| #1 Brraaaaiiinnss /Zombie Benazir |
| Posted by: Frank G 2008-12-27 10:16 |