The Story of Benazir _ Saria Benazir

When Adam was still to receive his form

Then my relationship began



When I heard the Lord's voice

A voice sweet and clear

I said "yes" with all my heart

And formed a bond with the land I love

When all of us were one

My bond then began



An exile now by destiny

I am nearer home than my heart's beat

I wonder: when will I be free

To return to Larkana



From dust to dust

Loved ones return

To what they were

When will I walk home from Arab lands

To my own sweet Motherland.



Waiting for news in dreams and day

Waiting for messengers in dreams and day

When will the message come

Taking me from here to there

I want the answer to my heart

I want to pass God's test

O God, I await the messenger

Taking me to where I belong

Although the tyrants do not care

Strands of white my hair now shows

My face is gaunt with sadness

I to my people want to go

I came in the winter of repression

I pray to return in different times

Like the joy of a seasonal rain

The peoples support I will reclaim.

Almighty God,

Let Mother’s sickness not worsen in exile

Trapped in a mind wanting to forget

A heart weeping for young sons killed

O let Mother first her homeland see



O where is my husband gone?

His life's prime and his grace?

Prison Walls confine him

Court rooms frustrate him

Judges are frightened

Courage has fled

Salaries are more important

Than honour for which men gave lives



Pakistan, my health is worn

My joy is gone

And yet my heart is strong

For the fight

For our people lost rights



Each day I smile for the world,

For my children and my self

They ask: when can we return?



I speak of justice fled

From hearts of men

Into the breasts of beasts



I tell them

We will smile and we will eat

When freedom from chains is freed



I think of the poor people

A better fate they deserve

Than the military conqueror's boots



Yet the lust for land grows

Plazas and Plots for the elite lot

Government homes too

Not one but two

All on starving backs of people robbed



The sweet lands lie parched

For water people pray

The crops perish

The cattle die

The stoves grow cold

As labour is sent home

Fair Pakistan's face is blotted

Mug shots and finger prints are demanded

Worshippers live in fear and dread

Tenants are ejected

Soldiers in snows abandoned



The poets in the mountains and the deserts

Speak of another time

When the country and the individual had respect

Before the Benazir Government left



One pension is too little for some

One state, two jobs, two salaries and two pensions

For retired Khaki specials

Democracy is for those in Mufti

Dictatorship the dream of Generals in Khaki



The British left last century

Their space the Khaki filled

The Father died too quickly

In an ambulance in Karachi

One day the tyrants will depart

Public opinion will set us free

There will be dancing in the streets,

Music and song

Laughter will fill the air

As people rejoice in their destiny



Larkana, Loved-one, I remember

The sweet scent of roses

Of fresh rain on desert sand

Of trees washed by nature's hand

Away I live in a mansion grand

But I long to campaign

On long and rocky roads

In bumpy jeep rides

With flags and banners

With selfless zeal to change

The sad present

Into a smiling future

I want to breathe the breath

Of home,

a breath both fair and fine

My spirit is in one place

My body in another

My mind torn asunder



The Elections were so Unfair

Made of Broken Promises

Billions spent in marketing

A dictatorship as a democracy

That too unsuccessfully.

The European Union called Foul

So did the Office of the Commonwealth

Boxes were filled

Ballots torn

Peoples verdict shorn

By cowards masquerading as patriots

The presidential palace is ugly

In a land with widespread poverty

Parliament has yet to dress itself

With Constitutional power

The phoenix rises from the ashes

Peoples Power will be born again



Centres of learning

I will build for the children of the poor

Provide the aged and the young

Dignity, hope and security

We will raise buildings

Where there are deserts

And stop the weeping of the women of the land

Cry not

For change is in our hands

To reject wrong and embrace right

These days of despots will soon go

Just as other despots did



Memory forever recalls Quaid e Awam

The sword of truth

Who gave his life

So we could live

With legal rights and economic security

With knowledge and Opportunity

With representation and success

With peace and with progress

His name will forever shine

Who can forget him

That historical memory embraces

Forever in its folds.

He who wore threads of fine gold

Tore them for prison cells

He who slept in silken sheets and fed with silver spoons

Threw them aside for the darkness of the death cell

Defying death



The rulers offer comfort

In return they demand conscience

Don't offer comfort

To history's children

To the brave and the bold

The Kurds fought for decades

The Kashmiris do too

The Palestinians refused to surrender

In every continent

In every era

The brave and the bold

Carved history with their bare hands

One has might

The other right

One has the sword

The other the pen

Guns rust and fall apart

Ideas live forever

Tyrant: do not offer comfort

Comfort leaves me cold

Much dearer do I hold

Marvi's ancestral shawl

Symbol of our Treasure

From Marvi I learnt

From past mystic saints

From my dear brother Shah I learnt

That handsome youth who fought another tyrant

That

Were I to breathe my last, living

Away from the home I loved

My body won’t imprison me.

Shah returned home while his soul went free

No stranger to the soil

Embracing his body in death

Making it part of the legends of our land

When his last breath came

We carried him to the hidden coolness of the desert sand

Pride and sadness mixed in our hearts

Swaying emotions

Knowing that his life was given

For a clear cause of liberation

From a Dictator’s occupation

We buried him lovingly

In the land that was his

In a sea of people

That loved him

For his life

And for his death

Killed and yet the struggle lived



The cranes fly to their native hills

My heart longs to fly with them

Invisible chains

Hold me prisoner

The wounds of the past

Fester again

For my country and me

As I see people denied rights

Denied opportunities

Youth looking for hope

Democracy separated from the polity

Dictatorship cuts cruelly to the bone

Undermining the economy

Undermining the society

Introducing suicide

Economic suicide for those too poor to live

Political suicide for asymmetric warfare

Joy left when the stove turned cold

Joy fled when the church and hospital blew



Some sent messages

To forget about politics

To leave the people

To find happiness

They thought it foolish

That the weight of persecution

Could be borne

With a Mother ill

And children small

With the pain of exile

Of a husband separated by prison walls.

They thought it generous

To offer freedom for abandonment

The abandonment of a people, of a land

Of a struggle, of a dream

Of principles and of conscience

I thought it wrong



I know I will return

On a wave of peoples support

Led by the bravest Party of them all

A Party of martyrs

A Party of struggle

A Party that serves

A Party of the people

My enemies wish I never was born

For them it was a torture and a shame

That I became

The first woman leader of a Muslim State

Crumbling centuries of control

Triumphantly proclaiming

The equality of men and women

The pristine message of Islam



Hidden under prejudice and discrimination

Destiny's hand moves on

Writing its own tale

Of triumph and tragedies,

Of wars and peace,

Of bombs pulverising houses

Above the stench of death

Life begins again

The tide of sorrow turns

The sea of happiness awaits

The patient pray and persevere

Loved ones parted meet

Prisoners are freed

Fresh ones take their places

Or flee

Destiny's moving finger writes on

Seasons change

Realities change

The rest is a test

Better a life of test

Than a worthless life of rest



The land reclaims its own

When the dead die

They live again

Becoming part of a land

Centuries old

Holding secrets

Of great civilisations

Of heroes and heroines of bygone times

Shaping history and heritage

Shaping culture

Shaping the future

Time begins

Time ends

We decide

What to do with time



Remember the poor and the wretched

Remember the desperate and the hopeful

Remember God's sacred trust

The children of the land

Do not let your conscience die

For Power and Pride

The scent of the homeland

Wafts through the ocean air

Through continents

Its insistent call

A reverberating sound

Through sunset and dawn

Calling

Through walls

Calling

Through mountains

Seeking to reclaim

Its own



To my dear ones I say

Worry not

Shed no tears

Bear no regrets

These days will pass

After night comes day

After sorrow comes joy

The daughters of the desert know

That Destiny

Cannot Chain

The dream of a people free

Of a youth redeemed

Of a land

Where the sweet scent of justice

Fills the air

Where human rights

And economic rights

Break the prisons of poverty

Break the dungeons of disease

The repression of retrenchment

The despair of downsizing

The evil of unemployment



Prisons hold

Those that defy dictators

Those that pay the price for freedom

Knowing the chains holding liberty will break

That the desert men

Will write of desert courage

Of integrity, loyalty and unity

Baptised in suffering

That a desert maid

Will return home

Hear the wind

It carries the message:

Of dictators that came and went

Of tyrants now particles in the sands of times

How many armies came and went

How much blood was shed

Conquests proclaimed

Kingdoms fell; Tyrants too

The desert sands speak

The desert winds whisper

Truth will triumph

The desert maid will return

Travellers travel bringing news

Of political developments,

I hear of miseries

Of families without income

Of fear of hunger

I hear

And my own suffering retreats



Days pass

Life passes

I am shackled

To the dream of democracy

Unhappy are the days

Far from Malir and Multan

Far from Mardan and Makran

My countrymen are far

No one can reproach them

For they stand strong

As the October elections showed



One day I will recall these days

And forget the pain

One day I will recall these days

When political storms roared

When thundering threats filled the air

One day I will recall these days

Knowing my commitment to my land

Was purified and sustained.

I think of those exiled

from their homelands

In Los Angeles, London, Dubai

Of the days they pass

Some in despair,

Some in frustration

Some with determination



The seasons change

My face with them

Theirs too

Will my fellow villagers recognise

A face

Reflecting the seasons of fate



Night falls

The world sleeps

Darkness fills the air

I raise both my hands

And ask my children

To raise their little hands

Marvi, of Maru and Malir,

In the mists of time

She raised her hands

While the world slept

To God

Full of hope

Praying to see her homeland

Marvi,

We raise our hands

As you raised yours

To God

In hope

For the homeland

I was born in

Buried my Father

Buried my brother

Married

Had my children

Served a Nation

Helped a people

Without telephone or electricity

Computers or emails

Polio drops or iodine

Enter the modern age



But the bullets were fired

Piercing my tall and handsome Brother

His precious blood on the pavement fell

Where once we walked

The angels came

And took him away

To my Father and my Brother

As the Martyrs watched

In July we met

His warm embrace I recall

In the chandeliered Prime Minister's Hall

His special goodbye as he left

His voice on the phone

When we talked

As family members do

The phone came

It spoke of bullets fired

Of Murtaza wounded

I took a plane

With Holy Book in Hand

To the Hospital where he lay

God, do not take

The brother that I love

It was too late

He was gone

Again I buried a brother



The killers buried the Government

Husband was imprisoned

Tiny children exiled

With ailing grandmother

Midnight raids and imprisonment

Torture and terror

Perjury and Perversion

Billions spent on false cases

On propaganda

Psy war and special operations

On a Mother

Courts cal liberated

With different orders

Caught flights daily

From one to the other

Lahore to Rawalpindi

Then to Karachi

The persecutors fell

In divine retribution

The military marched In



Hear the wind

It carries the sound

Of horses that galloped

Of caravans that came

Of tanks that rumbled

Of planes that flew

Before the torch of time

Was passed

As history's pendulum swung

The desert wind calls

Marvi calls

A timeless call

A call

The desert wind carries.

Children: Hear the desert wind

Hear it whisper

Have faith

We will win

Benazir Bhutto

June 21, 2003

THE SEA OF SUPPORT_ FOR DEMOCRACY AND THE OTHER NAME OF DEMOCRACY_ BENAZIR BHUTTO

“"Jeevay, jeevay, Bhutto jeevay! Live, live, Bhutto live!" the crowds roared
in Punjabi, a sentiment that just three months before would have cost them
rigorous imprisonment and lashes. "Munjhe bhen, thunje bhen, Benazir—My
sister, your sister, Benazir," others called out in Sindhi. There were slogans in
Urdu, in Pashto, in every dialect of every region in Pakistan. "Benazir, ay gi,
Inqilab ly gi—Benazir will come, revolution will come," our supporters had said
before my return. Now they called out loudly, "Benazir ay hai, inqilab ly hai—
Benazir has come, revolution has come." When I waved, the crowds waved.
When I clapped my hands over my head as my father had done, the crowds
clapped back, their upraised arms undulating like ripples on a vast field of wheat.”

The 10th of April, 1986 was a red letter day in the history of Pakistan, so was it in the history of the world_ when it witnessed the gallant leader_ the Daughter of Destiny, who had lost her father and young brother _ both of them, who had laid down their lives, fighting for the rights of their people during the Martial Law of Ayub Khan and this day, the daughter of a martyred father stood on the same soil of Pakistan, aiming to fulfill the dreams of her father and provide “Bread , Clothing and Shelter” to the people of her state_ She returned to provide justice to all_ to hand over the power to her people_ Yes, to give every authority to the commons of her state _ Although, she knew of all possible threats in the way of her ambitions and of course, at this time too, the same Zia ul Haq was ruling Pakistan_ Benazir came and she came with a hope_ a hope of a bright and glorious future_ of remarkable moments_ of continuing the legacy of her father_ of bringing an era of prosperity in her state_ Yes! It was the courage of Benazir and only Benazir Bhutto.

That great moment_ when Benazir stepped on the soil of her belated Pakistan were indeed, unforgettable ones _ The huge sea of support for the woman of century, who was at last, back to her own land, after years of sufferings _ of prison, of exile, of house imprisonment, but one thing remained evident that Benazir Bhutto was never going to quit_ She was never going to stay back from her commitment to bringing democracy_ The rule of the people, for the people and by the people in Pakistan. The support of the crowds was marvelous_ Every eye was waiting to catch a glimpse of her _ every ear, impatient to listen a few words from her and the soil of Pakistan _ waiting desperately to fell the touch of Benazir’s feet on its domain _ that was the day of celebration_ Finally, the people felt a relief after their decade of suffering under the government, based on the lame slogan of Narai Haq, Zia ul Haq…This day, even his supporters forgot that slogan and raised their voice with the patriots, Narai Bhutto, Jeay Bhutto….

“Home. I was home. As I stepped onto Pakistani soil, I paused to feel the
earth under my feet, to breathe the air of which I was a part. I had flown into
Lahore many times. I had spent many happy times here. But it was also the city
where my father had been condemned to death. Now I was coming back to
challenge his murderer, the general who had committed high treason by
overthrowing the Constitution.”

Benazir Bhutto _ who was by this time, the emblem of democracy . a symbol of people’s power and federation _ who by this time had faced all cruelties_ every torture, but stood firm on her manifesto “ Islam is our religion. Democracy is our policy. Socialism is our economy. All power to the people and Martyrdom is our destination”. The world of Pakistan had changed_ the horizon was roofed with the red, green and black flags of Pakistan Peoples Party _ The world was watching the sea of support for democracy _ which could not be failed by the dictator of the time Zia ul Haq, _ who was by the time, too poor _ Yes….. He was too weak to resist the choice and want of the people_ for every heart, every voice cried out BENAZIR, BENAZIR_ BENAZIR_ SARAY SOBO KI ZANJEER_ PHOLO KI MEHAK BENAZIR, and BULBUL KI CHEHAK BENAZIR……

“There are moments in life which are not possible to describe. My return to
Lahore was one of them. The sea of humanity lining the roads, jammed on
balconies and roofs, wedged in trees and on lampposts, walking alongside the
truck, and stretching back across the fields, was more like an ocean. The eight mile
drive from the airport to the Minar-i-Pakistan in Iqbal Park usually takes
fifteen minutes. On the unbelievable day of April 10, 1986, it took us ten hours.
The figure of one million people at the airport grew to two million, then three
million by the time we reached the Minar-i-Pakistan.
Hundreds of colored balloons soared into the sky as the airport gates
opened. Rose petals, not tear gas, filled the air, showering onto the truck until
they rose above my ankles. Garlands of flowers flew through the air. I saw a girl
whose brother had been hanged and threw a garland to her. More garlands were
thrown onto the truck, as were hundreds of handmade dupattas and shawls. I put
one dupatta after another on my head and slung others on my shoulder. When
we passed former political prisoners I recognized in the throng, I threw flowers
and the embroidered cloths to them as well as to the families of those who had
been hanged or tortured, and the young and very old women who lined the route.
The black, green, and red colors of the PPP seemed the only colors in
Lahore that day. PPP banners and flags billowed in the dry, hot breeze until they
formed an almost continuous canopy. People were wearing red, green, and black
vests, dupattas, shalwar khameez, hats. Donkeys and water buffalo had PPP
ribbons braided into their manes and tails. The same colors rimmed photographs
and posters of my father, my mother, my brothers, me.”

Everything had changed _ All foes of democracy had gone into sixes and sevens, after seeing the gigantic crowd of millions of people_ waiting for Benazir and giving a warm welcome to Benazir_ Promising to stay with her_ swearing to support her under all circumstances_ The Pakistan Peoples Party became the unanimous voice of the people of Pakistan_ The opponents of Pakistan Peoples Party too were compelled to call out ZINDA HAI BHUTTO ZINDA HAI, seeing that deep love for Bhutto ism among the hearts of the people.

Long Live Benazir Bhutto.

Regards,
Saria Benazir.

I give it one name………_Benazir Bhutto _Saria Benazir

To all my pledges,
I give one name,
To all my adore,
I give one name….

To my audacity,
I give one name,
To my ascend,
I give it one name,
To my struggle,
I give only one name…

To my amusement,
To my ecstasy,
To my elation,
To my smirk,
To every spring in my life,
I give one name…….

To my every slash,
To my all vocation,
To my near,
And all from me distant,
To everything, for me lucid,
I give one name…….

To every present in my life,
To all that had been the precedent,
To all, that is evident in opportunity,
To all noticeable,
To all I know,
To all, I can’t catch sight of,
To all, I can’t distinguish,
To all, I feel hard to depict,
To all, I say with smugness,
I give it one name………..

To my high contemplations,
Or care for under dumped,
To my far reaching desires,
To my mind, catching glare of sky,
And my heart, rolling down on ground,
To my feelings in the soil,
To my love in my own native ….

To everything, I want to speak,
To everything, I fail to respond,
To everything, that gives me happiness,
To everything,that gives me hope,
To everything, that gives me a perspective of life,
To everything, that takes me in my life,
I give it one name…………

To all my contentment,
To my destination,
To my real place,
I give it one name………..

To every jiffy I have spent,
To all my verve,
To my bereavement,
I give it a single name,
Yes,
“BENAZIR”, You made it.
You made me inclusive!

By Saria.
April 23,2010
8:45AM

BUT WE LOST A GREAT MOTHER……!!!!_ Saria Benazir

Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.
Hold around your own self & let’s all give a view to our own lives_ what a mother holds in it or what’s life without her... and yes!!! The significance of mother cannot be denied in any facet of life. Motherhood is that immense fortitude, which is worth than anything else in the world… Firstly, looking at our own selves, you can rightly guess the hurdles_ the difficulties, a mother faces in bringing her child up _ providing him all comforts and luxuries, she can_ from the first day of a child’s life, the person, closest to him is his mother_ a mother, who bears everything in the way of bringing her child up and later, spends all her energy, providing him good education_ in the character building of a child, there lies the most important hand of a mother and that’s why, may be, Allah gave place to the heaven, under the feet of mother.

The formative period for building character for eternity is in the nursery. The mother is queen of that realm and sways a scepter more potent than that of kings or priests.
Of course, sometimes, it becomes inevitable for a mother to be harsh with her children for the sake of the child’s welfare, even for the time being, this rudeness may seem bitter to the child. Some mothers are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same, and most mothers kiss and scold together. Certainly, a mother is that most important person in our life, who builds up our life_ who guides us the way to eat, to walk, to speak, at a time, when we are not even aware of the world_ when we ourselves don’t even know about our surroundings…At this time, it is the mother, who holds her own hand with the child’s to enable him to live the life of a human being, because it is only knowledge that differentiates a human from an animal and thus, the first education of a child begins, not a school, but at home. An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy. The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms.

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.A mother _ she’s that person, who leaves all her sumptuousness for the sake of her child_ thinking about his welfare, not for her own lavishness. When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child. To a mother, her everything_ her every joy, her every comfort, her every smile is associated with that of her kids. She _ who herself can sleep on a thorn’s bed, but would try all her best to give her child a roses one_ she, who herself can sleep without not taking even a single bite, but would try all her best to fill the hunger of her children_ such is the courage of mother, who herself can die, but would like to see her child to live a long life_ Such is the magnificence of a mother, who can give nations warriors like Ali, Muhammad Bin Qasim, martyrs for the cause of righteousness like Hassan and Hussain, and of course, such is the dignity of a mother, who can bless the world with leaders like Quaid e Awaam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and the Daughter of East Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto.
A daughter is a mother's gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of her self. And mothers are their daughters' role model, their biological and emotional road map, the arbiter of all their relationships and this is evident from the fact that we_ the Pakistani nation, who lost their Princess of Fortune Benazir Bhutto was the daughyer of a great mother and gave the world three gems in the form of Aseefa, Bakhtawar and Bilawal. This day_ I recall the greatness of the great mother_ THE MOTHER OF THE CENTURY BENAZIR BHUTTO, who, despite so tough_ the life of a politician_ the life of a woman, struggling for giving rights to the people of her nation & on the other hand, carrying the responsibilities of caring for her children_ giving them love of both_ a mother and a father, during the time, her husband was in prison and along with that, dealing with all the cases, looking after her ill mother and further more, keeping an eye on her party_ Despite such severe circumstances, she gave adequate time to the character building of her children and provided them the best opportunities of education_ and after all, of becoming patriotic Pakistanis and lovers of human race.

The tie which links mother and child is of such pure and immaculate strength as to be never violated. This day, if the world witnesses such a young child, speaking out in the voice of a gallant Bilawal Bhutto Zardari for democracy, its all because of Benazeer Bhutto….if the world sees a young Aseefa Bhutto Zardari, committed to eradicate polio from Pakistan, as envisioned by her mother, its credit too goes to Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto and when the world looks to the benign Bakhtawar Bhutto Zardari, holding with her, concern for her people, its all because of Benazir Bhutto!!!!

That dark_ the worst December 27, 2007, which snatched from the world, not only a great politician, but of course, the most passionate mother _ indeed, the best human being…I wonder, how life goes without her and how do those three kids live without her..???

LOVE YOU BIBI!!!!!
YOU’RE CERTAINLY THE GREATEST MOTHER, THE WORLD HAS LOST!!!

LONG LIVE SHAHEED MOHTARMA BENAZIR BHUTTO!!!

THE WOMAN OF CENTURY _ MOHTARMA BENAZIR BHUTTO_ Saria Benazir

The world might not have elapsed _ it might not have clogged its eyes to the darkest moments , time added to history_ the world, today too, calls only Benazir by the name “Benazir”, for today too, she is Benazir…..Benazir in every facet of life, Benazir in audacity, Benazir in exquisiteness , Benazir as a leader, Benazir as a companion, Benazir as a daughter, Benazir, as a sister and Benazir as a mother_ She lived as Benazir and died as Benazir_ for in death too, she was Benazir. Let’s hold back to her life and glance at her as a daughter _ a daughter, too courteous & dedicated to her parents _ earnest to the words and visualization of her father that she_ Bhutto’s Pinky carried out her father’s mission at a time, when she herself was broken and a father _ how great trust, Mr Bhutto held on him, that from prison, he wrote to her and spoke of her that one day, his daughter “BENAZIR” would become “Benazir” in the history of the Sub- Continent, and Bibi Shaheed proved it, for she not only proved to be Benazir in the history of Indo Pak Sub Continent, but became Benazir in the history of the world!!!!!

The same daughter of ZA Bhutto and Nusrat Isphahani set aside on facing hardships during the Martial Law of Zia ul Haq and gave her mother a shoulder to cry on, and hope to her people for the revival of democracy. As a sister, Bibi was kind and benign From childhood, Mr Bhutto used to take her on different occasions with him and when he was out, she had to care for her family_ her younger brothers and sisters. She , _ in this relation too proved herself and supported her family through out. Benazir was that great sister, who lost her father at first, but still, kept on with her father’s mission. Later, she lost her brothers at the hands of the same people, who had murdered her father, but still, she did not give up her struggle for a democratic Pakistan.

As a wife too, Benazir was example less, for despite studying and spending major part of her life abroad, she loved the life of an Eastern woman and thus, as a wife lived like a traditional Muslim woman. , who always held with her love and care for her husband and indeed, as a mother too, no one can compete with Mohtarma Bhutto. Her lasting affection for Bilawal , Aseefa and Bakhtawar , she always gave priority to their education and well being and thus, at a time, when her husband was in prison, she alone stood in giving them all the comforts, a father could give to his children and therefore, along with it , Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto also gave emphasis on their religious education as well.

As a leader, Benazir was courageous, undaunted and of course, held with her an exampleless spirit_ She kept on with her political struggle and even, at the worst moments of her life did not give up. She went on with the thrash about of providing BREAD , CLOTHING AND SHELTER to her people and remained firm on her manifesto that Islam is our religion, Democracy is our policy, Socialism is our economy , All power to the people and Martyrdom is our destination. She proved It_ She , Benazir, always kept with her , love for children, old, poor, depressed and the under privileged. She loved her land and could never stay away from it and as a politician, her career is hidden from none. The first ever female Prime Minister of the Muslim World_ and was twice elected for the post_ The same Benazir, when stepped on her land on October 18, 2007, it seemed that a barren part of land had got some water, yet, she kept on struggling to provide all that to her people , for what was her father’s aim…for what his two young brothers were assassinated_ Benazir Bhutto, too, at last, laid down her life in her struggle for accomplishing the same vision.

This day, the world has not only lost a leader _ a politician of high caliber, but of course, the best mother , the world has lost , Who can compensate for her to Aseefa, Bakhtawar and Bilawal…???? The best sister, Can anyone compensate for her to Sanam???? The best wife, can anyone compensate for her to Asif ??? Of course, the best daughter…Can anyone …………….anyone , compensate for her to Nusrat,….???Precisely not….and Yes!!!The best woman, the world has lost….

The Women’s Day seems too empty without her….!!!!!!

We miss you Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto.

LONG LIVE BENAZIRISM!!!!!

AND THIS IS A FACT........_Saria Benazir

The words, quoted in my tears _ the tears of a supporter of democracy…..these excruciating, but most retarding moments of my life compel me to realize that life is nothing, more than a game of whist _ We have no time to sit or stand. Years ago, the founder of Pakistan Peoples Party Quaid e Awaam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto spoke in the voice of the natives of his land and promised to provide “Bread, Clothing & Shelter” to his people………………..The man, who ought to make his country a well developed country and provide it with all out opportunities to flourish_ and vowed to give it that strength and prosperity, which is not the destiny of every nation . Today, even a common citizen _ an un educated person or a person,. Who does not even posses the least awareness about politics may be well aware of Shaheed Bhutto’s measures for him . i.e. he devoted his life to the poor and redundant population . Still,. The long way of struggle……………….., those obstacles, which made an important, but undeniable part of his life force the world to call out & after seeing the great INJUSTICE on the name of FAIR PLAY :-

“SULAA DIAA THAA JISSAY ZINDAA MAY TUM NAY LOGO,
USSAY WAQT KI PUKAR JIGAAYAAI GII”.

What a greater proof of it can be that this day too, every single person from every corner of the world believes and calls out that Bhutto is alive.

Continuing with the same mission of accomplishing the vision of Quaid e Awaam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, the Daughter of Destiny Shaheed Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto moved with the same identity of a red legacy, a blood filled way , known to be the flag bearer of Pakistan Peoples Party. The Martial law of Ayub Khan , the conspiracies of Gen Ishaq Khan or Farooq Laghari _ Was that all too enough for vanishing the name of Bhutto or Benazir or PPP from the pages of history…???Too horrible moments , did she face , but ever did she lay down her aims??? Did she stop moving towards her desination??? Did she……….??
OF COURSE….Not!!!

The golden days of Pakistan’s history which turned into the darkest ones, when Bibi’s Government was snatched from her and she was compelled to leave Pakistan. i. e to adopt exile. That was done to remove her from the path of politics , but certainly, that efoort was fruitless too…..Obviously. Didn’t even work out to the worst…!!!The world writes in its records, the golden. The bright sun rise of October 18 , 2007, when despite knowing of all the possible threats …… but possible, yet evident mishaps, the Daughter of Destiny stepped on her motherland after eight years of exile , stood amidst her supporters on the land of her ancestors.

There came the darkest sunset too. The woman , who had left her children , her family for the sake of her motherland was brutally murdered…..The Bhutto’s Pinky now resides in the flower beds of the soil of Garhi Khuda Bux Bhutto. In the same graveyard of martyrs, _ the place, reserved only for democracy lovers…… only for revolutionaries_ merely for those , who feel the plight of the poor and down trodden……!!!!

This day , despite the same blood lying on the same soil. Too evident, yet , the spirit of Bhuttoism is not lost. Democracy survived and thus, Pakistan survived only after our President Zardari called out Pakistan Khappay and today, if our party is ruling, it has the complete right to rule because the history of PPP’s struggle is certainly too long and today too, attempts are being made to harm the federation – either by taking support from army , from media or from judiciary , or making assassination attempts , the PPP ‘s Government will surely survive and the world must remember that this day too, PPP is the largest political body of Pakistan and of course, the young leadership and the nascent generation is too brave to call out , accept and yes, ready for

“Sar chahiyai, Sar Hum Dai Gaay,
Khoon Chahiyai, Khoon Hum Dai Gaay,
Jaan Chahiyai , Jaan Hum Dai Gaay”.

LONG LIVE BENAZIRISM

THESE ARE THE COURTS & YES!!!THIS IS THE JUSTICE …_Saria Benazir

Today , the democracy is being challenged in the courts, those cases, which stayed unproved after years of exploration are being opened again & people, who themselves took illegal steps in the past , this day speak of law & justice & threaten the governments by strikes….!!! Still, despite this, they speak of not harming the people’s government or federation…….!!! Oh God! These people even don’t know that their greatest fear is democracy…… but fairly, the government of Pakistan Peoples Party.

Yes!! This day , these people speak of honest and fair dealings and even insist that the President should even punished , if found guilty , rather if the President is from PPP, he should not be spared even if he’s innocent.,. That’s absolutely their nightmare now…..!!As far as the immunity of the President is concerned, the parliament has granted it. It is not you or me, who have done so. On one side, they speak about honest and fair dealings…of the restoration of the constitution and the supremacy of the parliament….They themselves speak so and yet, are even unaware of the constitution.

In fact, democracy has over years being challenged in Pakistan and yes, when it is the Government of Pakistan Peoples Party, the tyrants can hardly face it and try all their best to search for a General Zia, Farooq Laghari or someone like them and of course, dictatorship and its affiliation with Pakistani politics is even well known to a lay man. When looking around and in our past, we see the judges, giving statements of death to the innocent ones, without adequate proofs. That was also so called justice and yes, in their books of law, this is the genuine essence of justice……..!!!!That judicial murder of April 4 might have been forgotten by those….who committed it. But not by the world, that has hatred towards the name of that dictator and those judges…for all they can judge is the amount of bribe, they are offered………nothing else!!!!!!

People and yes, today, whatever they hear and yet are silent over those hideous deeds…judges….judiciary….Chief Justice….What the crap is it…..Chief Justice has the power to reject the notifications of the President, and to consider him guilty and not capable. Yet, worthy of being the President, so , therefore, why don’t they simply say that the Chief Justice should be the President…..he has the right to hit any leader and to himself rule the state according to his own will…….I simply can’t understand, why these judges only have problem with the Govt of PPP………WHY….????????What is the real fault of PPP, for which it is being punished over decades… Was it founded only for giving blood??????

The President has always been the figure head of facing courts. yes, an emblem of giving sacrifices, during the time, when our leader Shaheed Benazir Bhutto was the PM and at times, when her Government had been deteriorated in the wake of the same charges and of course, the same courts of Pakistan and it was the same Asif Ali Zardari, who spent years in prison , but no court could prove even a single corruption charge against him and today, if he is the President, he has the right to be so , for the sacrifices , he gave for the sake of Pakistan and democracy are too numerous , yet, too heart taking that there exist no words to describe them and yet, the words are unable to imbibe that struggle. The same courts are today, standing against the President of the state….the same judges, who could not even get justice for themselves and the same judges, who are and were the staunch supporters of the corrupt governments and took oath under black laws……the same judges, who begged democratic powers for their restoration…Pity on them…..It was my party PPP _ It was my leadership, which faced prisons for them_ My party workers, which gave their blood for them & the same PPP’s Government, which restored them and today, the Chief Justice speaks of the President being guilty_ The same person, who gave the sacrifice of his wife for them_ With which face , which tongue, does he speak of the SWISS CASES….OH!!! they could not prove them in decades and the mighty Chief Justice may have a magic stick to prove it in a split of second…That is not going to work out this time.
Well, after all, only this is the real face of Pakistani judiciary, which can take life of a Prime Minister at the cost of bribe and make all out efforts to harm democracy….


Our country is moving towards a JUDICIAL DICTATORSHIP…..but indeed, Pakistan Peoples Party won't let it happen. We would support our President under all circumstances and any attempt to harm his Government may bring a big revolution _ A revolution, dissipating “DICTATORSHIP” from the face of Pakistan.


Long Live Bhutto.
Long Live Zardari.
Pakistan Khappay..!!