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"Let there arise out of you a band of people inviting to all that is good enjoining what is right and forbidding what is wrong; they are the ones to attain felicity".
(surah Al-Imran,ayat-104)
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User Name: Noman
Full Name: Noman Zafar
User since: 1/Jan/2007
No Of voices: 2195
 
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IT IS not possible to remain unmoved by the death of a man one has known for almost half one’s life — a man of violence who fittingly died a violent death. Difficult indeed he was, as he held one sole stern view of life and the world in which he lived, a view that was unshakeable, non-negotiable and non-discussable.

The first time I met the arrogant and handsome Akbar Bugti, in the late 1960s in Karachi, he told me in his gruff normal tone of voice that he had heard about me and asked why I spelt my name wrongly. Did I not know how to spell my own name? That I did not react did not please him. He went on to tell me that we silly Parsis did not even know the correct name of their own prophet. He was Zardost and not Zarathustra as many of us ignoramuses were wont to refer to him. He knew all about how the Zoroastrians had fled Iran after the Muslim invasion, fearing for their lives, and sneeringly remarked that the Bugtis would have taken on the oppressors, stood up and fought and died, and not sailed away to supposedly safer climes.

He took great pleasure in being as awkward as possible, and if an audience was present, thoroughly enjoyed being as mean and insulting as he could to whichever individual on that particular occasion was his chosen butt. He had a sense of humour, but only at the expense of others. Heaven help anyone who tried to take the mickey out of him — they were demolished. Akbar was not a likeable man — he hardly inspired affection, but he was a unique personality to whom one was attracted merely by the force of his character — as charming or as nasty as it could be. His visits to Karachi were akin to a circus coming to town — entertainment and colour guaranteed.

A hardened jailbird himself — having been on death row awaiting the hangman for the alleged murder of one of his kinsmen — he was unsympathetic to others who had experience of the prisons of Pakistan. He told me at one of our meetings that Zulfikar Ali Bhutto had shown him a letter of apology I had written while in jail in Karachi in 1976 (to this day I am not quite sure as to why Bhutto put me in). Not wishing to linger and on the advice of the then Sindh Home Secretary, Mohammed Khan Junejo, who assured me that were I to apologise, Bhutto would let me out. Without hesitation I wrote : "Dear Mr Prime Minister, I believe I have caused you annoyance and if I have, I sincerely apologise." I was prepared to leave it at that, but Junejo urged ‘Aarre bhai, kooch tareef be to karo, Usko khush karo’. So I added, "I have been your sincere friend and remain so."

The Tumandar found this hilarious, and chastened me for my lack of spine — never ever would he have apologised to anyone, in any way, for anything. Well, he didn’t have to. For political and other reasons, his murder sentence was reprieved and he was let out by Ayub Khan, Bhutto claiming the credit.

In spite of all, I would be telling an untruth were I to say that I did not enjoy his company — and I know there are many others who will say the same. Like our other few colourful non-mediocre rogues (Jam Sadiq Ali for one), he will at least brighten up our history books. He was exceedingly entertaining, even in his ‘bitchiness,’ provided it was not directed at you. He was fun to be around, and he was a voracious reader who could talk on any subject under the sun. The most acceptable gift one could give him was a book.

There is one passage in the book ‘The Tigers of Balochistan’, written by Sylvia Matheson (published 1967), which epitomises the man’s approach to life. He was then twenty-one. She was questioning him on his calmly uttered statement to her, reminding her that he had killed his first man at the age of twelve. "About this man you killed — er, why?" "Oh that!" he responded as he sipped his tea, "Well, the man annoyed me. I’ve forgotten what it was about now, but I shot him dead. I’ve rather a hasty temper you know, but under tribal law of course it wasn’t a capital offence, and, in any case, as the eldest son of the Chieftain I was perfectly entitled to do as I pleased in our own territory. We enjoy absolute sovereignty over our people and they accept this as part of their tradition. As a matter of fact, my own father was murdered — he was poisoned — and what’s more, I know who did it. It was his half-brother whom I call uncle . . ."

Matheson asked him what he intended to do about it, "Will you poison your uncle?" He seemed shocked at such a banal suggestion. "Good heavens, no — poisoning’s too good for such a man. Besides, I don’t want a blood feud on my hands, which is what that would mean. No, I shall wait until I can get rid of the whole family — discreetly of course." And he smiled, wrote Matheson, "like some Medici nobleman discussing the removal of a tiresome fellow Florentine."

Akbar believed, and believed that all the rulers of Pakistan should so believe with him that the land gifted to his ancestors by the British, the centre of his Earth, belonged to him and to him alone, and that all that lay above it and beneath it was his to do with as he wished. Well, under a different set of laws in the US John D Rockefeller and others of his ilk thrived. To think as Bugti did was his privilege.

But there is no one in Pakistan today who can truly subscribe to the belief that the manner in which Nawab Muhammad Akbar Shahbaz Khan, the undisputed Tumandar of all the Bugtis, was killed — or assassinated, or executed (with no Medici finesse) — and the way in which he was ordered to be buried were the acts of honourable men. They were not. Like it or not, Pakistan will have to live with the consequences of this most dishonourable craven crime. Yet another war has been ‘won’ in the annals of Pakistan’s dismal history.

http://dawn.com/weekly/cowas/cowas.htm
 Reply:   Bugti, the military and the gr
Replied by(Ghost) Replied on (3/Sep/2006)
After a lifetime crowded with passion, violence, opportunism,controversy and arrogance, Akbar Bugti's wish at the ripe old age of 80 to transcend his tribal limitations
After a lifetime crowded with passion, violence, opportunism,controversy and arrogance, Akbar Bugti's wish at the ripe old age of 80 to transcend his tribal limitations and personal ivalries and be dubbed a martyr for the cause of Baloch nationalism may well come true. How did this happen? What are its
consequences?

Mr Bugti was pro-Pakistan and pro-Jinnah before the Partition. He
expected his personal and tribal prospects to flourish in a
democratic and federal Pakistan. But General Ayub Khan's martial law
and One-Unit scheme in the 1960s was inimical to such a setup.
Resistance, incarceration, alienation and radicalization among the
Baloch followed. After the disenfranchisement of the Bengalis led to
war and secession, the Baloch papered over tribal rivalries and
banded together to demand provincial and local rights in 1972. But Z
A Bhutto's Bonapartism sought to snuff them out. He rewarded Mr Bugti
with provincial governorship for splitting with his nationalist Marri-
Mengal colleagues. This was a grave error on Mr Bugti's part. He was
isolated and condemned thereafter by fellow Baloch. But he didn't
have the humility or wisdom to rebuild fences with them. So he became
a loner, isolated from mainstream Baloch politics, dependent upon
Islamabad for his political well being. As chief minister during
Nawaz Sharif's time, he earnestly negotiated the Bugti tribe's
contracts with Pakistan Petroleum Ltd and the federal government like
a good trade union leader.

This local role was entrenched over time for two reasons. The Marris
and Mengals combined to share power with Pakhtun elements in
Balochistan while Mr Bugti sulked on the sidelines throughout the
1990s. Thus, as the province learnt to be flexibile regarding greater
autonomy, Mr Bugti was inclined to brawl with governments in
Islamabad. When Islamabad tried to cut him down to size him by
propping up his local opponents, he became furious and vindictive.
But a combination of new political developments in the post 1999
period made Mr Bugti's isolated and prickly position dangerously
untenable. This is what happened.

General Musharraf arrived on the scene with self-serving ideas "to
rescue Pakistan from the clutches of corrupt politicians, feudal
lords and tribal chieftains". His agenda's centre-piece was a local
body system in which there was no room for traditional and relatively
autonomous power-wielders. In Punjab and Sindh, this meant a
scuttling of the landed and commercial support base of politicians
like Nawaz Sharif and Benazir Bhutto; in the NWFP and Balochistan it
meant the replacement of the big and rebellious Sardars and Nawabs by
smaller tribal and middle-class elements. This strategy was seemingly
clinched via rigging the 2002 elections and ousting Bhutto's PPP from
Sindh, Sharif's PMLN from Punjab, ANP nationalists from the NWFP and
the Marri-Mengal-Bugti triumvirate from Balochistan. The Military-
Mullah Alliance was reinvented to strengthen the military's
domination over the country. Inevitably, however, there was
resistance from the ousted players.

Ms Bhutto and Mr Sharif were dependent on peaceful street protest to
make their voice heard. But the masses were cynical and fatigued.
However, the Baloch Sardars could recourse to the time-tested path of
armed resistance by fiercely loyal tribesmen. Thus as Ms Bhutto and
Mr Sharif wearily inched toward a feeble Charter of Democracy, the
Marris and Mengals set up the Balochistan Liberation Army and tried
to nudge Mr Bugti to join forces with them. In the event, India and
Afghanistan jointly sensed an opportunity to exact historical revenge
from Pakistan's military establishment by financing and training the
BLA.

Mr Bugti was now impaled on the horns of a dilemma. He could swallow
pride and join the BLA under the leadership of the Marris or he could
fight his own battles with Islamabad. In the event, he opted to flirt
with the BLA in order to extract concessions from Islamabad. But he
overplayed his hand. Unlike politicians who relish long-drawn
negotiations and are prepared to compromise, military commanders seek
swift and outright victory on the basis of their might. So Genenal
Musharraf wrapped up the Chaudhry Shujaat-Mushahid Hussain committee
and closed the door on Mr Bugti. This compelled Mr Bugti to
recklessly tempt fate by attacking the IG-FC [Inspector General of
the Frontier Constabulary; the militia used since British times to
keep "the tribals" of the Northwest Frontier and Balochistan under
control--iF/SIA] and lob shells at General Musharraf during a
tribal jirga in Marri area. The dye was cast for Mr Bugti's
elimination.

The final military action was predicated on the calculation that
Balach Marri, the son of Khair Bux Marri and commander of the BLA,
and Brahamdag Bugti, the heir apparent of Mr Bugti, would also be
eliminated in one fell swoop, thereby decapitating all tribal
resistance. The cruel irony, however, is that the main targets
escaped and the frail old man who couldn't even walk was felled by a
hail of bullets and bombs from the gallant defenders of Pakistan.

History has a cruel way of making heroes and budding nationalisms
need martyrs like Akbar Bugti for sustenance. His killing is
significant. It should remind us of the crippling results of military
dominance in Pakistan – dismemberment, violent sectarianism, Al-Qaeda
and Talibanism – and warn us of the disastrous consequences for Pakistan if Balochistan is sucked into a new great game to redraw the map of the region.
 
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