Early Ayub years

Early Ayub years

The Quad struck.
Citing widespread disturbances, inability of the government to cope with breakdown of law and order, murder of the deputy speaker in East Pakistan, lack of concerted effort to develop the country’s resources, failure to ameliorate the living conditions of the masses and conveniently forgetting that he himself was the final arbiter of all government decisions and policies, Iskander Mirza declared Martial Law and appointed the Army Chief Ayub Khan, who had prudently, and with Machiavellian finesse, declined to take over with out a Presidential proclamation, the Chief Martial Law Aministrator(CMLA). A bunch of senior armed forces officers were designated Deputy CMLAs. Air Force and Navy chiefs were ,as a sop, given meaningless titles .Ayub is even reported to have demurred, asking Mirza if the measure was really necessary. He was being intentionally coy. Military coups at the time did not have many successful precedents yet. Nasser had overthrown Farouk, but that was a corrupt monarchy. Pakistan had, supposedly, inherited the British traditions of representative government. He revealed his inner thoughts later in his book “Friends and not Masters” that he had been planning a take over ever since he had tasted blood when he was appointed Defense Minister by Guam Muhammad and had had been allowed to hold his job as Army chief simultaneously.
Aye addressed the nation over the radio. He spoke eloquently, and with army precision. It was his duty to save the nation from the sharks and the vermin and the leeches, which had infiltrated the body politic. He would clean the house thoroughly and completely, and give good and honest government to Pakistanis, they so richly deserved and which they had been robbed of by traitors, foreign agents etc.
Mercifully, he did not declare that Islam was in danger, and it was his mission to save the faith too. He was secular in the tradition of officers of the colonial army. Officer’s mess had not been Islamised till then, dressing to dinner; drinking and carousing went on as in the good old days. According to army officers I have met over time, all the “enjoyable” feature if the Raj are still in place, only put under cover and wrapped in a green flag. The slogan had long become stale. People knew very well that it was bandied about to mask failures, corruption and other immoral, unethical and unprincipled acts of commission and omission.
I distinctly recall listening to Ayub’s speech. I was a second year Medical student in Karachi and was spending rather more time in political activism than on my studies. I had already graduated from Karachi University more in doctrinal than in the academic sense. But I had not yet adopted dogmatic thought process I was to later, (and shed the mode of thinking in after years!). A few “progressives” were sitting on a lawn in the midst of the college campus. Sher Afzal, our political guru (described in detail later in chapters on student movement) was pontificating as usual. He, unusual for him, was not getting a sympathetic hearing. We were not as versed in Marxist analysis as he was. I had concentrated on History, current affairs and political science rather than on comparative political/economic philosophy. He was telling us that military take over was a retrogressive fascist step, which would retard progressive struggle for a long time to come. We listened to him out of politeness rather than any interest in his analysis. I was frankly impressed by Ayub’s straightforward demeanor and palpable sincerity. So were others among those present.
The public took to Ayub like a drowning man does to a straw. Muslims have always have had a soft spot for the man on the white charger. Otherwise quite rational and literate persons would tell stories of a headless Shaheed tearing through the ranks of infidels, like a knife through melting butter during Hindu-Muslim riots. He appeared like the proverbial knight in shining armor, or to give it Muslim color like a legendary ghazi on horseback. Once confident of his standing with the public and not being subjected to international opprobrium which was to be the fate of coup leaders from Zia on, he packed President Iskander Mirza, reportedly at the point of a gun, into exile and assumed that office as well. I saw the former King maker in London years later. He had been reduced to working as a restaurant manager and buying his own grocery. That, at least, testifies to his financial probity.
The early performance of the regime was all one could desire. Streets were cleaned, garbage collected, polluters punished on the spot, trains ran on time, mail delivered regularly, government servants arrived in offices punctually and spent time on actual work rather than on socializing. Adulteration of food stopped, black marketers offered products at fair price, hoarders let go of stocks, and smugglers and racketeers were jailed. Underlying the ready compliance with martial law was also the fear of the unknown. One well known smuggler told me in later years that the first few months he spent in military jails were really tough. But the things gradually relaxed. He was able to tempt his military goalers with expensive gifts and cash to their facilities rendered through third parties. Ayub announced land reforms with a lot of fanfare. A new organization was setup to look into the productivity of land in different regions. Bureaucracy found new ways to fill slots with their favorites. Beyond making pious noises nothing was achieved. Feudals distributed land among their relatives and faithful retainers. Some barren land was given away to favorite peasants. It was all done with connivance of the administration. With out developing institutions responsive to the public and comprising its representatives even an earnest attempt at reform would fail. Ayub was only indulging in a fake populist exercize. Army were to learn the ways of the civilian police and it was back to old ways soon enough.. People also lost faith in the much flaunted efficiency and integrity of the men in uniform.
A brusque general Adam Khan assigned to East Pakistan as Martial law Administrator and Governor turned out to be a closet populist. He did not keep his distance from the common man as army officers with the spit and polish image of the British were wont to do .He opened the Governors mansion to the public, to visit, have tea and gossip. At times he himself joined the merry throng. You can imagine the joy and pride of the ordinary mortal who had hitherto been treated as a coolie by all, his own compatriots included. Bengalis are an emotional people. They freely admit it themselves. They also love processions and protest marches. The west Bengal Government is on record for going on a token strike once, against their own policies. A news item I myself read in a Pakistan news paper that one trainee officer in the superior services academy was once spotted by the ubiquitous secret service participating in an anti government rally. He was hauled before the Principal of the academy. The man, a crusty old civil servant of the Pucca British school asked the trainee, in what he thought was a biting tone, if he knew what the rally was about. The officer responded “No Sir” Then what in heaven’s name did you want to join it for, the old man asked. Well Sir it is like this. I am a Bengali. When I see a protest march, I join it instinctively!
While visiting a flood stricken area the Governor was incensed to find the divisional commissioner not among those present and assisting the affected. He ordered the man to present himself immediately. The bureaucrat arrived wearing a three-piece suit, with a peon carrying an umbrella over his head. The general angrily snatched the umbrella from over the man’s head and ordered him to change into half-sleeve shirt and shorts and made him to work along side the relief workers. Himself already in short sleeves and shorts. He himself joined the throng doing rather better than men much younger in age. Public response was frenzied. At the end of the day, the general, much to his discomfiture was carried on shoulders for about half a mile, and later in a palanquin carried by his admirers in a procession worthy of a hero. For as long as Azam was there, the provincial government was responsive to the public as never before or since. People worked hard and with rare devotion, as they knew that “Ajam”, as they pronounced his name, worked day and night for them. If any thing was amiss, it was the fault of some officer who did not do as he was told by the hero. Ayub was, in due course, to get jealous of the adulation proffered to his deputy and to recall him to the center.
Ayub, having attained power through thinly camouflaged unconstitutional means, having got rid of the legally elected President with impunity, and having been welcomed with open arms by the public arrogated himself to a status above law and custom. He summarily dismissed, with out due process, several hundred civil savants, vast majority of whom were immigrants. He had been rubbed the wrong way by some. Under the British hierarchical system, the service chiefs rank under the secretary of the ministry. He was specially cruel to the incumbent defense secretary. But he was, essentially, catering to Punjabi bureaucratic lobby, who had not been able to break the strangle hold of immigrant civil servants on higher services. When we arrived in Pakistan in 1951 practically all the secretaries in central ministries hailed from the Muslim minority provinces as did the heads of technical departments. I recall that the heads of the Post and Telegraph, Metrological services, Custom, the national airline and Railways all were immigrants. The dismissed officers appealed to the judiciary, who were not known for independence, and had not too long ago, collaborated with Ghulam Muhammad in legitimizing hid quasi-legal acts.
Politicians were jailed on flimsy and trumped up charges. Naturally the ousted defense minister was the object of Ayub’s fury. The man had, reportedly made Ayub wait for the better part on an hour in his ante room. This ex minister was kept in solitary confinement for a month and in the third class in jail with common criminals for much longer. Suhrawardy was tried on charges of corruption. He had failed to stop one of the ministers from awarding a contract to an acquaintance with out due process. The prosecution never claimed that Suhrawardy was aware of the demeanor or profited from it.. If the level of graft had remained at that kevel Pakistan would be a model of honesty for the rest of the world. Suhrawardy, a brilliant orator made an inspiring speech in the court during which he tore Ayub’s character apart. Later proceedings were in camera. He was sentenced to a longish term in jail. After release he went into a self imposed exile in Beirut where he died alone and nearly penniless. He had commanded a fee of fifty thousand rupees (equivalent to ten thousand dollars at the time) per appearance but had spent it all on his political party. He left only a modest house in an unfashionable area of Karachi.
Trade and students unions were proscribed, press gagged, journalists dismissed and the only progressive press publishing the largest circulation English daily of the country, the Pakistan Times, the pride and joy of enlightened Pakistanis and a sister Urdu daily the Imroze and a weekly Lail o Nahar were all taken over by the government. This publishing house owed its existence to an enlightened feudal, Mian Iftikharuddin, who had “declassed” himself. Faiz, the doyen of Pakistani intellectuals, formerly professor of English, arguably the most admired Urdu poet of the twentieth century and unarguably the most respected progressive muse of the era, was the chief editor of the group. The English daily was edited by Mazhar Ali, father of the better known Tariq Ali of the U.K. who was the toast of the radical student movement in Europe in 1968. The Urdu paper was edited by one of the protégés of Faiz, a poet Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi. Lail o Nahar was edited by yet another leftist Sibte Hasan. It was a vibrant, radical group.
Backed by brute force, and with popular support Ayub got away with it all.
We were to rue the day we all fell for Ayub. We could not have been more misguided in our assessment of the man. It was small consolation that the vast majority of our countrymen had made the same mistake. All civil rights were suspended, all organized activity prohibited in the name of rooting out corruption. What was worse was that the armed forces got a taste of blood- of bribery, nepotism, jobbery and living beyond means, and what was to turn out be the death knell of united Pakistan, their exposure to political offices with out going through the electoral process. Ayub arrogated himself to the rank of a political and social philosopher. His henchmen formed a polit bureau with him at the head. Their combined theoretical base would not get them admission in a good undergraduate school. Their collective practical experience would not get them hired as office secretary in a self respecting political party.
The critical mistake, however, that Ayub made was to mistake transient adoration for permanent fealty. He did not have adequate political savvy to develop any institutions to support him or a political structure to shore him up and generate dedicated workers. He was not immune to the Bonapartist virus, rather he was enamored of it, as are all adventurers whom circumstances throw onto a seat of authority. His advisers, besides his juniors whom medieval hordes would have recruited with out a moments hesitation, were the bureaucrats groomed as servants of the Raj, contemptuous of the political process and who despised the command man as bereft of any sense or knowledge of what was good for them,. They were in mortal dread of, the electoral process, representative government. They had had no indoctrination or experience of working under the supervision of their political masters as their Indian counterparts had been. Their saints were GM, Chaudhury Muhammad Ali and Iskander Mirza, all erstwhile civil servants who had risen to the highest political offices by default .Like courtiers all over, they helped inflate Ayub’s already prodigious ego, that he was a man of destiny charged with sorting out Pakistan. His brightest acquisition Bhutto also called him uncle and fawned on him.
Ayub could have translated his popularity into founding a political party at grass roots level. He would have found eager hands to help him. They would have given honest advice. Men and women of stature would have emerged who would have assisted him in governance and economic revitalization of the country. He did discover ZA Bhutto, who, though he harbored over powering ambition, was unarguably a talented person. If he had cast his net wider, not just on scions of feudal houses, he would have found worthy associates. Bhutto did. Hid first cabinet did have men of vision and imagination. The vestiges still make up the scant respectability that Peoples Party commands. East Pakistan offered a wealth of dynamic political aspirants. But Ayub only recruited hackneyed discards from both wings. After lifting the Martial law, he was to recruit the same mediocrities in his party. His was too small an intellect to see beyond the sea of servile sycophants. It takes a man of much higher moral stature to rise above the adulation he was the object of.
He could have won any election held on the basis of adult franchise, against any conceivable opponent, hands down. But he despised the common man, that he was unfit to make a choice. Further, elections based on unrestricted franchise were chaotic, the people were not ready for them, were not disciplined enough, and could easily be misled by charlatans. His narrow and regimented military mind could not cope with the free for all. He must have had subliminal inferiority complex too, and must have had a low opinion of the founders of Pakistan, and his own kind, of Muslims in general. He would otherwise given some thought to the success of the electoral process in the next door India, and tried to emulate them. In the event he latched on to the half-baked concept of restricted Electoral College of 80,000 members (not some 50 million voters), comprising hand picked Basic Democrats (BD). He frittered all his political capital by depending on the coercive powers of the police, the district officers and the feudals. In East Pakistan he enrolled the support of proven losers.
There were several legitimate theoretical and practical objections to the system. The BD were to be elected on a non party basis, therefore their was to be no diciplinary force of a party mandate as would be in a political culture where established political parties could control members elected on a party ticket. Once elected, there would be no binding on them to vote according to the wishes of their constituency. They could easily be persuaded to vote for the establishment candidate. Persuasion could be monetary gain; promise of a lucrative contract, job for a loved one or if all else failed a minion of the ruling junta could always employ the state coercive apparatus to bring the recalcitrant ones in line.. Being elected by a small constituency they would not have the stature to stand up to authority. Persons of self respect, conviction and principles would not offer for such a meaningless office. They would avoid the inevitable taint associated with it. After serving as the electoral college for local, provincial and national offices they would become redundant, reduced to begging for favors from the local police inspector, assistant district officer and the likes of such functionaries. From the perspective of the government machine, however ,it would be much easier to control 260 BD’s, the average number of electors for a seat in the national assembly than it would be to manage 26,000 voters in an average parliamentary constituency.
First elections under the system were held in 1960. All kinds of candidates with scant political background, track record of service /activism of any kind, history of participation in independence movement, trade or student unions or professional bodies, all minions of petty officials, informers of the basest kind, in fact nonentities whose only qualification was official backing of the state apparatus and who could be depended on to be at the beck and call of the establishment, presented themselves as candidates and were elected to the electoral college. This college now proceeded to elect members of the various local bodies and assemblies at the provincial and central level. The candidates for latter offices, for the most part, were no better than the electors. Some idea can be had from the person who stood against Bhutto, the rising star of the regime, from their common hometown. A second rate lawyer filed his nomination papers for the seat. Bhutto got the man to withdraw his papers and as quid pro quo sent him as the country’s ambassador to Saudi Arabia. The man was a mediocrity in all respects, in intellect, in intelligence, manners and cultural upbringing. Pakistan’s finance minister, a man of impeccable background, a sophisticate and an accomplished writer, and unlike most ministers in Ayub’s cabinet a collateral member of a political house, happened to visit the country soon after. He arrived at the Pakistan embassy and asked the protocol officer, who had escorted him from the airport, to send word to the ambassador that he would like to confer with his Excellency before negotiating with Saudi finance people. The protocol officer demurred. Won’t the Hon’ble minister prefer the charge de affaire, the ambassador was new. The minister told the protocol man not to talk through his hat, his opinion will be asked for in the unlikely event of its being required, and to get the ambassador forth with.
The finance minister had regaled his admirers with the story a year or so later during a break in a Mushaira ( for those not initiated, Mushaira is an cultural gathering in which poets recite their work in front of an audience of varied size. Poets are seated on an elevated dais, so as to be clearly visible to the crowd. Most attendees do have poetic inclination and can appreciate the finer points of diction. It starts about 9-10pm and can go on till early hours of the morning. Usually a high dignitary is requested to preside over the event He is called Mir-eMahfil,- the title is not translatable, roughly a presiding officer, MC and protocol chief all rolled into one- has a shama (candle) in front of him which he passes on to the poet invited to recite his Ghazal (poem) The Mir-eMahfil, by convention recites his Ghazal last. Poets are invited in the ascending order of seniority and repute. Lately, because of large crowds an M.C, from among the organizers takes up the function of announcing and introducing the poets. The invitee would seek formal permission of the Mir to proceed. Other poets on the dais would repeat the verse after the reciter. Audience would join in cheering, with enthusiasm roughly related to the quality of work. A melodious voice helps specially with the unsophisticated among the audience and makes indifferent work acceptable.. Poor quality verses are greeted with silence. Simple, easily understood language is lauded. Use of difficult and dense words is seen as an uncouth attempt at covering up lack of command of the language. It automatically relegates the poet to lower ranks. Catcalls and loud boos are deemed non-genteel but permissible to discourage pompous poets. Like all medieval institutions it has seen better days. I once attended a Mushaira in Queens, NY. One poet was using peculiarly dense words. He was lustily hooted by the audience. The Mir appealed for calm, to no avail. The poet lost temper and called the audience hill-billies (in Urdu of course). One member of the audience took particular umbrage, rolled his sleeves up- this is time honored gesture of invitation to a physical contest – and proceeded to the dais. The poet, not to be outdone rolled up his sleeves too. Organizers assisted by the audience were barely able to keep the belligerents apart,) The finance minister was the designated Mir-e-Mahfil, but the senior most Urdu poet, Josh Maleehabadi, was among the participants The finance minister declaring that he would dare not preside in the presence of the master begged the poet to take over, which he gracefully did, after the customary demurral.). I happened to be in the audience.
The minister had been a bit taken aback at the ambassador’s non-appearance. A man presented himself after a while. The minister testily asked him, what the devil was taking the ambassador so long. The new arrival nearly prostrated himself, and humbly stated “ Sain - a sindhi salutation- I am the ambassador.” The minister not having come across the man before had taken him for a lowly minion. He decided to confer with the charge-de-affair after all, humiliating the ambassador with an un kind remark that his excellency (H.E) no doubt had more weighty affairs to look into and was free to leave. He did not quite apologize to the protocol officer, but conveyed appreciation of his earlier advice.
Ayub had no better luck in his electoral opponent. Politicians of stature had been disqualified. A few who had escaped the hatchet were in no mind to take on a candidate who had stacked all the cards in his favor. They could not hope to match all that the state could offer by way of blandishments. Their participation in the futile exercise would only lend legitimacy to an anomalous system . His lone opponent was an erstwhile camel driver named Bashir, whose claim to fame was that the then US Vice-President Johnson, during a visit to Pakistan, had had a beach ride on the man’s camel ,and Caliph Haroon Rashid style, had invited the driver to visit the USA ( Haroon Rashid, a well known Caliph of the Abbasid dynasty used to bestow riches and other high favors whimsically).On his return from the land of promise
he had become something of a celebrity, sold his camel, obviously too exalted a person (USA returned, in the old colonial days the term England returned was a mark of approbation, never mind what you did there. Now the glamour of a foreign visit has all but worn off, though a prolonged overseas stay or better still a job and education, is still a valuable currency in marriage market) had got himself elected as a BD, and cast his own, and as it turned out, the only vote in his favor..
In turn BD’s elected members of the national and provincial assemblies, and all officials of local bodies, municipalities, and district councils. Such a concentration of toadies, sycophants and hangers on, which would put to shame even a convention of the most obedient servants of the Raj, had not been seen before, or since, the sole exception, perhaps being the minions of Saddam, immortalized as the Jackal’s wedding feast by an Iraqi writer. ( ).They were a thoroughly rotten lot, corrupt, inefficient, with little insight or even the will to be productive. They treated the offices as cash cows. Worse than even the for life beneficiaries of Moghal Emperor favors who at least looked after the Jagirs (estate), worse even than feudals who took a long term view and lived off the land with out making a deliberate attempt at despoiling it. Mercenaries also try to pay back in services, the money’s worth. These were among the lowest of low lifes.
Ayub’s reign was thus marked by unprecedented disregard for moral values and ethics. The element of uncertainty ushered in the higher civil service made the hitherto financially upright bureaucrats stoop to taking bribes and accepting favors to secure their future. They also became unduly servile to the military, meekly accepting the role of a junior partner in the “Quad”. They cast aside all their wonted rules, regulations and principles and did as they were told. Corruption in the public sector reached new heights. Ayub’s son Gohar, to be the Speaker of the National assembly under another dictator Zia, became the leading industrial entrepreneur over night as did his father-in-law, a general in the army. Before Ayub, cabinet ministers were careful of their good name, rarely would one be accused of putting his hand in the till. Their limit was to award a contract to a crony or a party faithful, in return for donation to the party funds, never to their personal account. They would also appoint a favored person to a job on preference to another more deserving candidate. Now ministers, nearly all of them, raked it in. The institution of kick-backs on any contracts, licenses and any sort of government approval, which developed into an art form under Bhutto and later dictators, and quasi-democratic set ups was founded under Ayub.
Ayub, though, had taken care to induct only a core of selected supporters into civilian jobs. They too had to retire from active military service. Administration was left to “son of the soil” civil servants who were only too happy to have been spared the axe that had fallen on immigrant officers. There was, however, no surviving “son of the soil” Bengali civil servant. The lone Bengali among the higher ranks, inherited by Pakistan had actually been born in Indian Bengal.
Virtual absence of representation in the Civil Service, judiciary and the army was one the major factors in alienation of Bengalis from Pakistan, which was eventually to lead to demise of United Pakistan.
But the biggest curse of Ayub’s dictatorship was suppression of all forms of political actability, freedom of expression and organization. Political parties, students and trade unions had been proscribed for a while. Strikes had been banned. Intellectual development, level of social consciousness, concept of civic rights had all been stunted. Judiciary had been thoroughly cowed. This elimination of all kinds of freedoms far outweighed the substantial benefits stability of the regime brought with it. Government did not change every few months. Functionaries worked fairly honestly, for the first two years at any rate.. Industrialists were given incentives for investment, cumber some import/export regulations were eased, infrastructure, roads, bridges, train tracks and canals were attended to, and revenue was collected more efficiently if not equitably. Pharmaceutical industry was built in East Pakistan. It was a first, hitherto all investment in the eastern wing had benefited the western wing, and all the surplus capital was transferred there. Riverboats vital for East Pakistan were refurbished, ports were better maintained. In the early years there was the psychological boost of believing that a forthright, blunt though arrogant yet sincere at heart soldier was at the helm. He, at any rate did not speak with a forked tongue as the politicians did.
When political activity was permitted again, it was in a bastardized form, with limited franchise.
In a bourgeoisie set up elections, assemblies, processions, speeches all function as vectors of emotional release. An anecdote from times of cold is very instructive. A dog, well fed and robust of build used to cross the border into West Germany every morning and indulge in a sustained bout of barking. A west German dog, rather emaciated, asked him why did it have to come into “ the capitalist hell from a socialist paradise every day. Didn’t it get enough to eat, charming female company or shelter? The East German replied that I have all the worldly comforts but am not allowed to open my mouth. If I don’t bark I would start biting my wife, kids and friends! If kept from letting of steam, pressure builds up, and it erupts into an explosion.
And erupt it would in not a too distant future.
The image of Ayub as a hero in shining armor was gradually getting tarnished. His Government had been found wanting in providing relief to the common masses. It was no better in this respect than the bickering politicians he had swept aside. Soon, too soon for long term survival of the regime, scandals financial and of other salacious kind started to surface. Police and civil servants went back to old ways with a vengeance. They had to share the loot with Army officers and were uncertain of tenure too, “so made as much hay as possible while the sun shone”. The tariff of bribes went up and kept on escalating. Discipline and punctuality went by the board. What was, perhaps, worse living ostentatiously beyond means became the norm. Discretion was no longer the better part of valor.
But the single most important, one may say the defining aberration was the racketeering of Ayub’s son Gohar Army pays its officer enough to live comfortably, have a drink or two in the evening, subsidizes the living style by providing free housing, transport, servants and schools of high standard nearly free of cost. But one can by no means live it up unless you have private means. Ayub did not. Gohar had been a captain in the army. On ascension of his father to the “throne” he resigned his commission and started spreading out, junketing around in luxury limousines, consorting with film stars, carousing in expensive night clubs, and abducting women in the style taken to art form much later by Saddam’s sons. People were terrified of him; police and bureaucrats trembled in his presence. His stooges were also frequently seen brazenly dashing around towns, honking their horns, making pedestrians and vehicular traffic alike take hasty cover. Crowds would literally melt away from the onslaught. This was, however, not all. Very soon he launched, with his father-in-law, also an army general, Gandhara industries, an umbrella group, which worked mines, dug oil wells, founded car assembly plants and owned many other enterprises.
Disillusioned and disgusted, people started openly questioning his source of funds.
Servile media tried to feed the public stories of domestic and foreign investors. No body believed them. No one had invested for them before Ayub’s ascension to power. This badly reflected on Ayub.
Rulers have poor access to public opinion. They do not have the time, once firmly ensconced into the seat of authority, even the inclination, to read newspapers or listen to electronic media, domestic or foreign. They have to depend on briefings by advisers, who fawning sycophants as they usually are, keep all unpleasant reports from the master. In extreme cases they become totally detached from reality. I am again quoting from Q.U.Shahab. GG Ghulam Muhammad, at the end of his days unintelligibly mumbled his words. One of his minions had to interpret for him. Once he insisted that he would broadcast live to the people on Pakistan day. Bokhari, the Radio Pakistan supreme was aghast. No body dare tell the GG that he spoke gibberish. Bokhari hit upon a plan. He would GG’s speech and play it to him. He would get it.
With due ceremony, the event was staged. The GG on hearing his speech lost it completely, screamed at Bokhari and threw his shoe at the man. Bokhari was later told that GG was thoroughly disgusted, that a man so incompetent that he could not even record the head of state’s solemn speech was allowed to preside over national radio.
People of Pakistan could no longer take it lying down. Once again it fell upon the students take up the challenge. In underdeveloped societies, with low rate of literacy, poor standard of living, un and under employment, prevalent apathy and despair, parasitical politicians over bearing officials and irresponsive governments, students bear unusual social responsibilities; have little to lose, as job and future prospects are poor anyway. They have the courage, zeal and recklessness of youth too.

Ayub, hankering after acceptance among top feudals giving Bhutto a seat in his cabinet was part of the same syndrome- had appointed the aforementioned cruel, repressive and murderous feudal, the Nawab of Kalabagh as Governor of West Pakistan. The man, Chancellor of Karachi University by virtue of his office as Governor, descended on Karachi to preside over an academic convocation of the university. This was to be a solemn occasion. In the chaotic conditions preceeding Martial law, convocation had not been held for several years. The number of prospective recipient for degrees to be conferred, under graduate, graduate, doctoral and professional, was several times the usual. The university had not been able to cope with logistics. It was announced that non professional, masters degree holders would not be presented to the chief guest The announcement was greeted with loud cat calls Kala Bagh was extremely unpopular in Karachi.. A delegation of alumni led by a venerated intellectual had called on the vice-chancellor to apprise him of the ground swell of ill will towards the proffered chief guest. The hapless VC had expressed hid helplessness and had appealed for cooperation and solicited welcome for Kalabagh in the name of oriental hospitality towards a guest. If it was a question of his job being at stake he could appeal to Ayub. If he had to spend time in jail, he could put up with it. But he could not countenance his women folk being abducted. The man had virtually groveled. Such was the terror evoked by the mention of the name of the ferocious Nawab.
Due to the chaotic pre martial law conditions there had been no convocation for three or four years. The number of prospective percipients was correspondingly larger than usual. An announcement that only post graduate and professional degree recipients would get the testimonial from the hand of the chief guest was greeted with loud boes and cat calls. Even though the chief guest was the accursed Kalabagh, yet the photo opportunity was once in a life time. In the event Kalabagh was hooted down as soon as he started the convocation address.. In spite of powerful loud speakers, he couldn’t be heard even in the front seats. I am an eyewitness. I was, by virtue of being an honors graduate (I do not wish to be misunderstood, Honors here means not a high grade, but a three year course, not the usual two year one , but more because of my connections among the organizers, seated right behind the faculty and doctoral candidates, in the third or fourth row). The chief guest not being able to finish his speech, prudently declined to hand over diplomas in individual hand and conferred the honor in the style of a Papal blessing, wholesale.
Soon after this event Ayub announced that he would shift the capital from Karachi to a purpose built town to be called Islamabad in the hills not too far from Rawalpindi which housed the Army General Headquarters (GHQ) The patently spurious arguments offered were that the new
Capital would have better climate, administration would be better organized, in purpose built structures with easy access to each other rather be scattered over a wide area in Karachi and the seat of government would be as tone Would be a stones’ throw from the GHQ. The last Freudian slip was greeted in Karachi with jeers. We would like to throw stones at both! Karachi was vulnerable to attack from the air and sea, the new capital surrounded by hills and less easy to target. . The convocation fiasco may not have a cause and effect relationship with the move but we took the credit of shaking the foundations of the dictatorship. Wits started comparing Ayub to a King named Tughlaq, who had shifted his capital from Dehli and had to bring it back a few years later. Suharwardy was to famously declare during his court trial that the capital had been moved on a train and will be brought on a plane. Shifting the capital had a demoralizing effect on Bengalis who had gotten used to Karachi, the hot and humid climate and proximity to the sea was as good as they could hope to get in the west. and were there in large numbers. Karachi had been developed, they correctly claimed with federal funds 60% of which came from East Pakistan. The city elite they stood to lose the amenities on offer in the capital. They would miss the diplomatic parties with free drinks and freer social environment. Immigrants were also unhappy. They stood to lose most. Access to powers that be was not least among them. They would have to trek the God forsaken Capital for every little thing ,permission to abroad, licenses etc. It would entail additional expense on accommodation, food and transport.Sindhis were ambivalent, Karachi would, likely, be restored to the province, though they would also lose easy physical access to powers that be and were not certain that the federal government would not hold on to the city as a federal preserve.. Baluchis and Pathans were indifferent; Islamabad would be as alien to them as Karachi was. Only Punjabis were happy, and they mattered the most. They overwhelmingly dominated the army and bureaucracy and comprised the bulk of feudals. The fourth component of the combine, the Mullahs, were their junior partners, they would vociferously support any unrepresentative set up which gave lip service to Islam and kept them in the style they had gotten used to. For a country unable to provide basic needs of food, clothes, and shelter, never mind health care and education this was a stupendously wasteful project. The dictator and the cabal supporting him were determined. They dreaded the agitations the politically aware Krachites could mount at a moments notice and render them virtual prisoners in their mansions. Compared to the peace and quirt of the hills, no expense was too much, in their eyes.
The next occasion to protest effectively was to hand shortly after. US President Eisenhower was making a short stop over in Karachi. The whole Government, Cabinet ministers, governors, senior bureaucrats, favorite politicians, service chiefs all led by Ayub were to on hand to pay obeisance to the Caesar. Students decide to launch a massive protest against the visit. Government functionaries, with their survival at stake moved instantly and preempted the protest by arresting all the student leaders, trade union workers, left leaning journalists and politicians. Students were the special targets; even low ranking cadres were picked up. A student leader, Mahboob, who had been out of town when at the time of the Imperial visit was arrested on arrival a few days later. In spite of all the pre-emptive measures, there were widespread disturbances, scuffles with the police who resorted to Lathi (baton) charges and used tear gas with abandon. Students, on their own territory, led the police manned even then with recruits from the Punjab hinter land, the so called cannon fodder zone- martial race region in colonial and in Pakistan post-colonial parlance too led the police on a veritable merry go round. I saw with my own eyes strapping lads of the police trapped in cul-de-sacs and being pelted, by angry housewives, with rotten vegetables and other filth. Some more adventurous ones even showered the hapless jawans with excreta. Police begged for mercy, in, Punjabi of course, which pi tiless maidens of Karachi made fun of. One could pity them, they were as much victims, though unwitting, of the system as the rest of us. Police dare not, at the time, break into houses and assault women. This was to come later, during Bhutto’s democratically elected, nonetheless fascist government. Lest we forget Hitler was initially elected democratically too.
Turmoil, hitherto under the surface was erupting with unsettling- to the government- frequency. Ayub had been noticeably weakened. He was to make another grave tactical error. Whether out of jealousy of the universal popularity of the man as has been conjectured earlier in this narrative, or in charitable view of the affair, because he wanted a strong man by his side in federal government he recalled General Azam , the governor of East Pakistan and replaced him with an ill-famed east Pakistani politician of the old guard.
Azam had kept a lid on the eastern wing by virtue of his transparent honesty, palpable sincerity, gruff affability and easy accessibility. People gave him the benefit of the doubt. For them Ajam (as pronounced by Bengalis) could do no wrong. With his departure Bengal also started erupting. There were several student and workers strikes. They were brutally suppressed. Intellectuals, writers, journalists, academics, teachers, workers, professionals, businessmen students, people of all classes, even government employees, who had hitherto covered themselves with the flag of chauvinistic nationalism started comparing Pakistan unfavorably with India. Immigrants, generally the most reactionary section of people, because they have to continually rationalize and justify leaving their home of innumerable generations cried tears of nostalgic despair.
We had another confrontation with Martial law in 1961 in which I was rather more involved. I have described it more detail elsewhere in the narrative.