Bilawal is such a good boy, he reminds me of his mother, God bless her, shaheed Bibi. We met in the meeting room of Kot Lakhpat Jail, with its uncomfortable wooden chairs and the havaldar sitting there to record our conversation. My heart melts when I see that boy Bilawal. After all, shaheed Bhutto’s (yes, shaheed Bhutto, martyr of democracy) blood runs in his veins, and that of Bibi, his blessed mother.
I thanked him for coming to see me. He said he had to come. I said, “I know why you had to come. Who knows this suffering better than the Bhutto family?” After we had talked for a while, he said “Mian Sahab, I think you’ve changed. I see something of my mother’s spirit in you now”. I explained gently to him, “when you walk this path to its length, when you lose so much, you gain everything. Like your mother did. When you lose a loved one in the course of this struggle, there is no going back. Who knows that better than you? Mushkilain itni pareen kay asaan ho gayeen.”
He nodded. He understood. He has been there.
I looked at the havaldar. He put down his pen. He left us alone.
We spoke of the need to revive the Charter of Democracy, to struggle together to save democracy and the federation. And then we laughed. I told him about how a government spokesman came to me and said that they had the best doctors at the Combined Military Hospital. That I should have faith in them. The spokesman assured me, “CMH doctors took a heart from one man and transplanted it in another. Within days, he was running around, looking for a job. Then the CMH doctors took a brain and transplanted it in another man, and soon he too was running around looking for a job.”
Bilawal looked enquiringly at me. “I said bravo. Look at what the CMH doctors achieved last year. They took a man, without a heart or brain, made him Prime Minister, and now the whole country is running around looking for a job!”
I thanked him for coming to see me. He said he had to come. I said, “I know why you had to come. Who knows this suffering better than the Bhutto family?” After we had talked for a while, he said “Mian Sahab, I think you’ve changed. I see something of my mother’s spirit in you now”. I explained gently to him, “when you walk this path to its length, when you lose so much, you gain everything. Like your mother did. When you lose a loved one in the course of this struggle, there is no going back. Who knows that better than you? Mushkilain itni pareen kay asaan ho gayeen.”
He nodded. He understood. He has been there.
I looked at the havaldar. He put down his pen. He left us alone.
We spoke of the need to revive the Charter of Democracy, to struggle together to save democracy and the federation. And then we laughed. I told him about how a government spokesman came to me and said that they had the best doctors at the Combined Military Hospital. That I should have faith in them. The spokesman assured me, “CMH doctors took a heart from one man and transplanted it in another. Within days, he was running around, looking for a job. Then the CMH doctors took a brain and transplanted it in another man, and soon he too was running around looking for a job.”
Bilawal looked enquiringly at me. “I said bravo. Look at what the CMH doctors achieved last year. They took a man, without a heart or brain, made him Prime Minister, and now the whole country is running around looking for a job!”
NS