I have frequently read that my brother Shaheed Zulfikar Ali Bhutto was a controversial figure. People either love or hate him. I am perhaps the only person who knows him well. We grew up together.

Of our childhood days certain memories cling. One was of father’s long absence in England where he had gone for the Round Table Conference. In those days we heard of only one dacoit. The servants often talked of his daring and defiance. Our sister Benazir was then a baby. Zulfi and I liked to hear of the dacoit who the servants said was forced to leave his feudal masters village. The reason we never learnt. However, as night approached we felt scared. Our house was three-storied. From the second floor we climbed the staircase to the third to sleep in a Spanish type courtyard during Larkana’s long hot summers. That night Zulfi and I called out from the stairs the name of each servant to check whether they were all present. It made us feel secure.

We played in the extensive grounds and lawns of our garden and ran after the rabbits. Those were happy, carefree days. As were the days proceeding our departure for Bombay where father was to represent Sindh. Sindh was then attached to Bombay. The sea voyage thrilled us. We explored the ship and made friends with other children.

Father had to be six months in Bombay and six months in Poona. Poona had a much better climate. My sister Mumtaz and I were admitted to a boarding school: The Convent of Jesus and Mary. Zulfi’s health was indifferent; therefore, he was admitted to a day-school St. Mary’s and he returned to Bombay with my parents.
While in Poona we went home for the week-ends Zulfi was always waiting for us in the car, well before time. Once he told us he had a surprise. He brought out his bicycle he had learnt to ride. During the Poona season there were many social activities which my parents had to participate in. so the three of us went to movies sometimes. We loved the tonga rides and engaged two tongas accompanied by a servant. We tried to over-take each other’s tonga. The cinema was in the cantonment not far from our house. I remember the name of one movie. “The 39 Steps” which starred the late Robert Donat. He became our favorite actor. Whatever pocket money we got we got movie magazine, which contained pictures of Robert Donat and competed with each other to collect the most. The following year we saw “The Scarlet Tonga” and then Donat was forgotten and we were buying the series of “Scarlet Tonga” books.

One week-end we spent with the Deputy Commissioner of Khandala Mr. Parpia. The Parpias took us walking to Echo Point as it got dark we started our walk back. We all thought we knew the way but Khandala is a hill-station surrounded by thick tall trees and many turns into various lanes Zulfi and my little sister Benazir were walking ahead of us suddenly we lost sight of them. Mother panicked but Parpias said they must have reached. They were not home, at this the Parpias also got worried but assured mother search parties were being sent after then, mean while we were nervous. An hour later they were found they had taken the tong route which brought them to the bazaar. Mr. Parpia asked Zulfi. “Did you get afraid? The woods are thick and some monkeys come on the road.” He replied that he was not as such in a crises. He remembered mother calling to Pir Dastagir and he did the same. Mumtaz and I went to Bombay for our Christmas holidays. Zulfi took us to his favorite shops. It was the time of the British Raj. The shops were stocked with so many things. Large variety of all sizes of chocolate and biscuits tins, toys, the best were the Christmas stockings like treasure-chests filled with balloons, masks and little things.

Zulfi’s favorite story was Hiawatha which he was never tired of hearing it from Mumtaz. She also read him the Scarlet Pimpernel stories.

When Sindh was separated from Bombay we returned to Karachi. In Karachi we all went to day school. We lived on Club Road and our house was called Hordley House. The house is still there. I have visited it on several occasions and each time the years roll back reminding of me our happy, stay there.

We again returned to Bombay. Father had served Sindh with dedication. His contribution was recognized for he never lost any election except the last one. He decided to serve Sindh as Sindh’s representative in The Public Service Commission.

Zulfi was now in the Cathedral High School and cricket had become his obsession. He played in the junior team and later in the senior team. He was an ardent fan of the well known cricketers of the time. Kardar and Amarnat but his favorite was Mushtaq Ali. There was a wide age-gap but he still befriended them. One of Zulfi’s school friends Omar Kureshi who remained a friend to the end lived in Dhanraj Mahal. It was the meeting place of cricketers and other sportsmen. Zulfi spent many evenings there.

In his final year of school he got very attached to a girl named Suriya. He phoned her every day at a certain time and asked me to continue phoning when he left for the States to join Berkeley college. He was keen to marry her but somehow it did not work out.

Politics also interested him. Pandit Nehru’s younger sister Mrs. Krishna Huthee Singh was our neighbor. Pandit always stayed with her when he was in Bombay. On one of his visits Zulfi was determined to meet Pandit Nehru. Not that this was difficult. Across the low dividing-wall we saw the garden and pathway crowded with people in the Ghandi dress. Zulfi walked through the open door. He was a young student not in the white Congress dress. Panditji noticed him and called him near. Panditji asked Zulfi his name and then his views on Pakistan. Zulfi was a enthusiastic Pakistani. Panditji told him that youth was always emotional but India was a large country which would soon become great and India needed young people like him to serve it.

Zulfi tried several times to meet the Quaid-i-Azam who lived on Malabar Hill but he was not lucky. The Pathan chowkidar promised to let him in when Jinnah Sahib was in residence but the few times Zulfi tried he was out of Bombay. He did meet Miss Jinnah and many years later reminded her when she was living in Mohata Palace.

Mumtaz was now married and was living in Hyderabad Deccan which again left Zulfi and myself with mother in our Cumballa Hill apartment. Father was in Junagadh. Zulfi had to shop for winter clothing and baggage. I often. accompanied Zulfi and his best friend Jehangir Mugaseth on the shopping sprees. In the baggage shop I saw a train-case for the first time and kept holding it. Zulfi noticed and told me to keep it. It would go into his baggage account. Zulu’s favorite restaurant was “The Parisian Diary”. The shopping sprees ended with a visit to The Parisian Diary.

Zulfi, mother and I drove to Poona to visit the grave of our youngest sister. We all went to Poona once a month. Years later, whenever Zulfi visited India on official work he always went to Yaseen Jog in Poona. The day came for Zulfi to leave. Mother and I went with heavy hearts to Bombay’s Santa Cruz Airport to see Zulfi off.

After Zulfi’s departure, mother left for Karachi by sea because of the heavy baggage. I flew to Karachi a day earlier and stayed with Lady Hidayatullah and when mother joined me each morning we went house bunting till we found a house that suited its on McNeil Road. It was to this house that Zulfi returned for his summer holidays. He came home every summer. Abroad he had missed home and family and did not socialize in Karachi. He preferred being in the house and enjoyed mother’s cooking. His favorite dishes were Chicken Seekh, fried Potatoes (Sindhi Style) and Carrot Halva.

I heard many stimulating and absorbing conversations and discussion between Father and Zulfi. Father was conservative and brought up in a feudal environment. Father’s love of reading and wide travels made him much more liberal than the other feudals nevertheless he was of the old school of thought. Zulfi had socialist ideas. He believed in the power of the people. He envisaged a future of social justice and equal opportunities. He put down his ideas in a booklet which he had published. Its our misfortune that we do not have a copy of that booklet.

When Zulfi was in his final years at Oxford he met Nusrat who had come to visit me. He met her on several other occasions and they decided to marry. Father wanted him to wait till be returned home for good but Zulfi and Nusral preferred to marry which they did and both left for England.

When Zulfi was home for his holidays. I remember another incident. Qasim our mali, was bitten by a snake. Mother asked me to phone Junagadh House for our driver who lived in the quarters. Zulfi jumped out of bed rushed out and drove Qasim to Jinnah Hospital. He realized it might be too late to wait for the driver. He always looked after his dependents. Yar Mohammed the land manager had to have a major operation. Yar Mohammed wanted only surgeon Amanullah to do it and Dr. Amanullah operated on him. Babu our bearer had been with us since Larkana days. My father got him married and sent his four sons to St. Anthony’s School. After Father’s death Zulfi looked after their education and got all four good jobs.

If my brother had another face I did not see it. I have only read about it by his critics. Personally I was upset about his Baluchistan action. All my life I had heard my father speak with respect for the Baluchees. Father had many friends and contacts in Baluchistan which border Jacobabad in Sindh. Zulfi, however, said at the Supreme Court hearing that he had long wanted to withdraw the artily but met with stiff resistance from Gen. Zia.

When Zulfi returned to Karachi after completing his education, father arranged for him to work with his friend Dingo Mal Ramchandani who had a law firm. He also had to visit Larkana frequently to help father. He more or less took over the management of the lands as father was not keeping good health. On one of these visits he met Iskander Mirza at Uncle Ahmed Khan’s house in Naodero. Iskander Mirza went several times to Naodero for partridge shooting. He knew my father and was much impressed by Zulfi.

Zulfi was in Geneva for The Law of the Sea Conference when we lost father. He returned immediately on receiving our telegram. He sobbed and was inconsolable. Father and son were very close inspite of different thinking.

Zulfi came to know of his appointment in Iskander Mirza’s cabinet when he and Nusrat were in Rex Cinema. On the screen they read that Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s presence was desired at Government House. I presume his whereabouts was given by 70 Clifton. It was then he learnt that he was to become Commerce Minister. We were happy for Zulfi but at the same time felt father’s absence poignantly.

Zulfi immediately left for Garhi Khuda Baksh to offer ‘Fateha’ at father’s grave. That same night Nusrat had to go to the hospital. A few hours later Shah Nawaz was born. He was a beautiful baby and grew up to be a handsome man. Little did we know then what the future held for him. Shah Nawaz would become a victim of conspiracy and was murdered in a foreign land at the age of twenty six.

General Zia did not only deprive our family but the whole nation of an outstanding and brilliant personality. Even his detractors cannot deny he was a great patriot. He would have been a great asset. He was well educated, very well read. An orator respected by the great statesmen of the time: Soekarno who put all Indonesian asset at the disposal of Pakistan at the time of our first war with India. Nasir of Egypt, Chou-En-Lai, the late King Faisal, President Assad of Syria. Col. Gaddafi with whose contribution we were able to acquire a Nuclear Plant, the former President of France Giscard D’Estaing. Zulfi was respected and world leaders were his personal friends. He initiated friendship with China. No other Pakistani can claim personal friendship and equation with world statesmen. After Quaid-e-Azam he was the best known Pakistani in the world. Zulfi’s trial invoked world interest. Many representatives of the Muslim countries were in Islamabad to plead for his life. They realized his life was valuable to the Muslim World.

I am very fortunate that this great man was my brother. As a brother he was affectionate and thoughtful. In his school days when he went on trips with his friends he always brought back gifts for us although he had to manage on a tight budget. After my marriage he always kept in touch. I asked his help for friends and acquaintances and our servants and he always obliged.

I am proud of his many contributions but most proud of his tremendous courage and dignity in the days of his trial and in the death cell. In his cell he enlightened my husband and myself on various subjects. His behavior was as if we were visiting him in 70 Clifton: cheerful and alert. Only a person absolutely innocent could be so.

I will always regret not been allowed to see him on his last day on earth although we were not aware of it. I visited him every Wednesday. He knew that and expected me. My husband and I reached the jail and were told Nusrat and Benazir were with him. That was bewildering. It was not their days for visiting him. However we waited and saw a car with dark windows up drive past. We were then told by the authorities that our visit was cancelled. After meeting Zulfi we always drove to Sihala to meet Nusrat and Benazir who were in detention. On that Wednesday we also drove to Sihala but the police guards at the entrance told us we could not meet our relations. We now feared the worst. We contacted the two lawyers who were still in Rawalpindi and heard from them that Benazir had sent a message that the execution was on the following day, Thursday.

I could not believe that it could happen and was in a daze. The lawyers suggested we leave for Larkana. We drove to the P.I.A. office. No tickets were available for Moen-Jo-Daro and we had to fly to Karachi. By the time we reached Nao Dero it was too late. The Women’s havelli was crowded already. Everyone was crying. I felt to drive to our graveyard. Here there were men and women reciting the Holy Quran seine silently some aloud. “I stood near my brother’s grave near me was an old peasant showering rose petals on the grave. He sighed very deeply and said in Sindhi. “Aba Zulfikar Ali! you have left us. What is to become of us!”. Did the peasant have a foreboding of a Sindh without Bhutto. Did he see the burning and destruction of Sindhi’s lands and crops by Gen. Zia’s men. Did he see the anguish pain and deprivation of the Sindhi people or Jain Sadiq’s reign of terror? Who knows Sindhis are born mystics.

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