THE TRAGIC DAY OF APRIL 15, 1985
On April 15, 1985, when I was having lunch after returning from the office, I received a call from Hakim Abdul Wahab at around 1pm. He informed me that a student of Sir Syed Girls College had expired while her sister sustained severe injuries in an accident at Golimar Chowrangi. He asked me to come to Abbasi Hospital. I left the table without wasting a moment and took the steering wheel. At the emergency ward, I witnessed a chaos. Bushra Zaidi’s uniform-clad body laid in a corner while her sister Najma fought for her life. The aggrieved mother of the young daughters was in a state of disbelief. The girl’s classmates and college staff were infuriated. The hospital’s staff was in a helpless situation because the agitated crowd was taking out their anger on them.
Suddenly, a lady in a college gown shouted in a sharp voice, “Where is the person elected from this constituency? Why is he not here?” I stepped forward and introduced myself. Before she could respond, a few girls of the college and some young men came running, followed by a heavy contingent of police. The personnel resorted to an indiscriminate baton-charge on the people there, making the situation worse. MNA Prof. Usman Ramz and Hakim Abdul Wahab had also reached there with dozens of Jamaat-e-Islami workers. When I attempted to stop the police, a personnel lunged at me. Hakim Abdul Wahab shielded me and the batons bruised him badly. Meanwhile, Bushra Zaidi’s relatives reached the scene. I asked him where her father was. We were told that he is employed in Saudi Arabia and lived in a distant area and that it was difficult to trace him. He had to be informed somehow. By the grace of Allah, one of my clients in Saudi Arabia managed to find the man upon my request. I conveyed the tragic news to him and requested him to book the first available flight. I received him at 2:30am and drove him straight to the hospital‘s morgue. I still remember the way he cried as he saw his young daughter’s body.
When Shabbir Zaidi felt a bit better, I accompanied him to the ICU where he met his other daughter, Najma Zaidi. I dropped him to his residence just before Fajr prayers. Once the situation became normal, he began to occasionally visit my house. I later found out that he also hailed from my ancestral area of Shahjahanpur. When Najma recovered fully and subsequently completed her studies, Mr. Zaidi came to my house with the invitation of her wedding ceremony and insisted upon me like a brother to attend the gathering.
Had the administration acted in time and police arrested the responsible mini-bus driver, the incident wouldn’t engulf the entire city. The unrest that started with police’ baton charge on mourning female students and other protesters, spread and some mobsters torched several vehicles within a span of a few hours. Dozens became victims to targeted killing and properties were destroyed. There was bloodshed everywhere. This prompted curfew in several areas of the metropolis. For the first time, people began to openly talk about Muhajir-Pathan ethnic differences. Divisions emerged in Banaras, Manghopir, Pirabad, Aligarh, Qasba Colony and Orangi Town. While this was happening, Chief Minister Syed Ghous Ali Shah was acting highly irresponsibly. Instead of mobilizing the administrative machinery to contain the spreading unrest, all he did was reiterate “all is well” via his confidantes. The administration would release bulletin-style press notes to the newspapers every day, mainly stating that the situation was normal and that it would deal with the miscreants with an iron fist. It would also ask people to remain peaceful.
One day, I asked Governor Sindh Lieutenant-General Jahandad Khan to hang the mini-bus driver responsible for the tragedy to calm public anger and bring the situation to normalcy. His words were: “You are talking about hanging him, while as Deputy Martial Law Administrator, I only have the powers to put him on trial through a Martial Law summary court and jail him for six months or a year. You are a lawyer and you know that FIRs of accidents are registered under qatl-e-qata (unintentional killing).” The helplessness in his voice broke my heart. The worsening situation resonated in the federal capital as well. Prime Minister Muhammad Khan Junejo reached Karachi with some Cabinet members. A meeting was called at the Governor’s House with the city’s MNAs and MPAs to discuss the situation. I and Usman Ramz couldn’t arrive on time due to various traffic blocks on the way. Syed Ghous Ali Shah was delivering the final address. As soon as he completed his talk, I asked for the prime minister’ permission to say a few things, which was granted. I began to read out from a note which was handed to me by someone during JI’s public meeting, held on the situation a day prior to the session, “Where was your chief minister when many areas were on fire and the citizens were surrounded by rioters?” The anonymous note revealed that two of the miscreants leading the arsonists took refuge at the house of Mir Nawaz Khan Marwat, a federal minister and leader of the ruling party. I read it out to the premier as it is.
The said minister was also there and as soon as he heard that, he rose in his seat and began to swear upon his innocence. The tone of the meeting changed quickly, with the members and ministers whispering. CM Shah was furious because of the fingers pointed at him for the unrest. Upon his turn, he said, “Well, Naimat sahib just dislikes everything I do.” The meeting came to an end with the usual promises and assurances to improve the law and order. The situation, on the other hand, was worsening day by day. There was no way out other than to impose a curfew. The government’s persistent failure to overcome the unrest was being questioned by overseas Pakistanis, the opposition, and even the ruling circles. Newspapers, too, had the same tone. Some at the helm thought that this would be seen as the government’s incapability to protect lives and belongings. Then, we heard that the prime minister was planning to visit the city again. This time, he brought some MNAs and influential people representing Punjab and erstwhile NWFP as a show of solidarity with various ethnicities of Karachi. The meeting was convened at Governor’s House. I wasn’t well, yet I decided to not miss the crucial huddle.
Sometime prior to the meeting, as PM Junejo was in final talks with his aides, his Cabinet members would frequent the main hall and seek assurance from me that I wouldn’t address the House since I wasn’t well. I had fever and throat infection and I, too, had the intention of staying quiet. But then the ruling party’s MPA Haseeb Hashmi from Orangi Town was full of praise for the chief minister, bringing to me the provocation. When it was announced that Hashmi’s was going to be the last speech, I got up and said there was room for more discussion despite the debate, and asked for the premier’s permission to share my thoughts. He remembered me from the previous session so he allowed me instantly. I began to speak without formalities and took CM Sindh and his Cabinet to task over their failure to improve law and order in the city. I spoke without pausing, biting my tongue in the process. A line of blood made its way to my collar. On his turn, Ghous Ali Shah began to respond to me instead of apprising the participants about the steps and the strategy to restore peace.
When the meeting concluded, Senator Prof. Khurshid Ahmad saw the blood stain and asked if I was well. The lawmakers accompanying the prime minister congratulated me, saying: “Naimat sahib, you represented Karachi befittingly. Given our position, we weren’t able to do what you did.”
But with the will still missing, such meetings weren’t going to be of any use. Bushra Zaidi’s tragic death had a profound effect on Karachi’s politics. The linguistic and racial prejudices fueling the organized riots were yet to reach their peak. The administration brought the situation back to normal, for now. The JI was in control of the local body setup. Despite their limited administrative and financial powers, mayors and councilors as well as MNAs and MPAs worked tirelessly for the city and made efforts to get Karachi its legitimate rights back.s
Opposition Leader in Sindh Assembly
Abdullah Hussain Haroon served as Sindh Assembly’s Speaker for a year before developing differences with the government. He stepped down on March 31, 1986, and was succeeded by Muzaffar Ali Shah. Hussain Haroon, after some time, sensed that the house needed an opposition leader and decided to present himself for the role. He charted out a plan and finalized a strategy but kept it a secret. Meanwhile, we had decided to boycott the ongoing budget session after consulting some of the non-treasury members. Hussain Haroon was one of the first ones to exit the house. The lawmakers had gathered in the corridor; that’s when he came near me and said, “Naimat Sahib, let’s do a press conference.” He proceeded, and then I saw some reporters and photographers wandering the corridor. I immediately figured that something was up. I seconded him and said, “Why go upstairs, let’s hold the presser inside our committee room.” When we entered the room, the members got me seated in the center. Media persons huddled as well. Arif-ul-Haq Arif from the daily Jang was sitting right in front of me. I began with بسم اللہ and spoke about the government’s demeanor and bureaucracy’s tactics against the backdrop of the unrest and the prevailing issues, besides other matters. Hussain Haroon thanked the men from the press and termed my talk adequate for the occasion. The budget session’s boycott was significantly covered by newspapers the next day, and I was subsequently declared the Leader of the Opposition.
Word began to spread about the involvement of provincial ministers and officers in corruption and financial irregularities. Some news reports also accused the chief minister of being involved in the shady practice. One day, the provincial government suddenly decided to shut down profitable Sindh Sugar Board. Amazed, I met the chairman via a friend and asked about it. He sought a bunch of files from his staff and showed me different letters, saying, “Look Sir, the provincial minister of industries offered to provide sugarcane to the corporation and took Rs3 million in advance. Despite a passage of several months and reminders, he is neither providing the sugarcane nor the amount. When we finally wrote to him and made the matter official, he got angered and now wants to dismiss the board in retaliation.” It was a painful tale. The assembly’s session was convened after some days, and a number of members addressed the session. When it was my turn, I deliberately kept my voice low as I spoke about putting national interests above personal aspirations, and that it wasn’t right to shut profitable entities because they are our assets. After a few sentences of mine, the concerned minister rose in his seat and almost shouted, “I know who has told you this. I will take care of it.” Interestingly, he didn’t say anything about his promise or the money he took. After his outburst, I sought the Speaker’s attention and said, “I hadn’t named anyone but since he has initiated the conversation, he should tell us whether he took Rs3 million from the Sindh Sugar Corporation to supply sugarcane to them. Say yes! Did you? Say no! Did he return the money then? Say no! And when the corporation’s chairman intimated to him about it, he wanted to dismantle the entity altogether.”
As soon as I said that, all the ministers rose in their seats at once and began to raise a hue and cry to back their corrupt acquaintance. I continued to speak nonetheless. Ashfaq Baloch, a government officer who was watching all of this through a CCTV camera in the room adjacent to the assembly hall, came to me after the session and said, “Naimat sahib, do you know who they are? They are the ones who pull the strings, they nurture dacoits and get their opponents killed. They are quite dangerous. I saw you on the cam speaking against the provincial minister fearlessly. Dr. Athar Qureshi, who was standing near us, said, “That’s how the JI has trained us, to not compromise when supporting the truth.” Later, the said minister got the chairman transferred via Ghous Ali Shah.
Then the unbelievable incident of Sukkur jail break occurred, resulting in a temporary commotion and newspaper headlines, but none of the high-ups were punished. The chief minister himself was accused of being behind the escape of several notorious criminals following the jail break; an allegation that couldn’t be proved, of course. The three incidents in 1986 changed the face of the city of lights and pushed it into darkness, riots, violence, arson, destruction of government hospitals and educational institutions, land-grabbing, corruption, extortion, and killings for a long time.
