The Dakota aircraft took off from Palam Airfield on a sultry July evening aggravated by the odor of burning homes and corpses. On board were my parents and two siblings on their way to Walton Airport and Pakistan. They were amongst the lucky few, since they had escaped with their lives, leaving behind everything, but whatever they could carry on their person.
My paternal grandmother had refused to budge from the house and had to be forcibly sent to a friend’s home on the outskirts of Delhi, where she would be safe, since that family kept a sizeable number of armed retainers. It was two weeks later that a telegram arrived at our residence in Lahore, informing us that the feisty old lady had at last condescended to migrate and would be put on the first available train to Pakistan. My family’s telegrams and telephone calls thereafter received no response, forcing my father to check every refugee train arriving from India.
What my ‘old man’ saw on the blood soaked railway platforms scarred him for life. It was only once, that he haltingly described the scenes that met his eyes. Horribly mutilated bodies of all genders and ages tumbled out along with rivulets of blood, mixed with the nauseating odor of death. It was after four weeks that my grandparent along with her two maids were pulled out alive from beneath a pile of corpses. Ours was however one of the rare happy stories amongst those of unspeakable horrors perpetrated upon Muslim refugees, converging upon a dream – the newly created state of Pakistan. Little did these people know that this dream would one day be shattered by corrupt politicians and a nation, which had lost moral authority to be called civilized.
I have seen history making events during my lifetime - wars, martial laws, the return of democracy and the rise and fall of those in power. Above all, I have been witness to a declining national character and the rise of corrupt politics. I had become so used to seeing the corrupt go unpunished that the Panama Case judgement came as an unbelievably pleasant shock. It gave new hope that perhaps we still had courageous, good men, capable of making things right. Knowing how the guilty would react, I expected some rancor and anger amongst the disqualified PM and his cronies, but hoped that it would subside with time since the national center of gravity lies not in individuals, but in institutions.
I was however wrong, for the dismissed PM and his gang have foolishly embarked on a collision course with national institutions – a collision from which they will suffer irreparable damage. Ignoring the advice of saner and senior individuals, Mr. Nawaz Sharif lent an eager ear to a group of ‘young turks’, embarking on a ‘do or die’ rally to Lahore via GT Road. The first setback occurred, when turn out from the twin cities was low enough for the speech at Committee Chowk to be delayed. When the former PM finally did speak it was late and his supporters had begun to disperse. Credible reports also spoke of a serious ‘difference of opinion’ between two PML-N stalwarts from Pindi, which divided the crowd.
Then something illogical and inexplicable happened. The rally suddenly began racing at high speed towards Dina at speeds around 130 kmph. Some attributed the haste to a last minute security update, some to ‘panic’ over a low turnout, while many toyed with the theory that a need was felt to cross areas under influence of the former Interior Minister, as speedily as possible.
Most political analysts were of the opinion that Mr. Nawaz Sharif appeared to have lost control over his decision making and the process was now being dictated by the new set of advisors travelling with him. The notion was lent credence by Chaudry Nisar when he said that “ninety nine percent of senior leadership was not with the rally”. The rift within PML-N is becoming more visible as the Party’s senior leadership including some senators have begun to criticise the rally. The biggest surprise however came from Mrs. Shahbaz Sharif (former Tehmina Durrani), who in a flurry of tweets criticized the GT Road venture. These tweets raised a question whether they had the tacit approval of the Punjab CM – and if this was so, is this the first visible sign that the House of Sharif is tottering on its foundations.
My paternal grandmother had refused to budge from the house and had to be forcibly sent to a friend’s home on the outskirts of Delhi.
