Every plummet of my blood is dedicated to Pakistan Peoples’ Party!!_ By Saria Benazir

18th October, 2007 _ A day, that revolutionized the subsists of millions _ The instants, when my dearly loved leader Shaheed Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto’s feet patted the dust of Pakistan _ her beloved birthplace, after eight years of exile _ the years loaded with anguish and stinging. These were the flashes, that altered my intact track of life and twisted the beckons of my vitality to what is now a mode, escorting towards a struggle to brace egalitarianism in my state_ To deliver Bread, Clothing & Shelter to my every fellow Pakistani, to provide them education and make a Pakistan_ A new Pakistan, free of hunger, paucity, illiteracy, tyranny and malady! The Day, I saw the gargantuan support for my beloved leader_ the scrutiny’s still as spanking new in my eyes, as it was on October 18, 2007 and the throbbing of losing her reaches its culmination, after appraisal of all, what was endeavored for this realm by the dear leader_ my ideal _ my fanaticism_ my mentor and here, empathy can’t impede me from allowing the entire world discern that my life is fanatical to Benazir and the effort_ The cause, for which she laid her life! It is a liaison, that won’t end, even with my essence, under tonnes of sludge.

When the world was still to be born
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 honor 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 pulverizing 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 civilizations
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…

Though, it’s terrifically hard to mop off tears from my eyes after reading the chronicle of my infatuation, but of course, it has given me adequate boldness to move towards my purpose and that destination is the same, as was my dearest leader’s. Every plummet of my blood is dedicated to this Blood filled legacy!!! But I cannot stop thinking about October 18 _ one of the most momentous days of my being, which left an unending impact on every phase of my continuation!

Truly miss you BB~!
Long Live Benazir Bhutto!!!!!!!!

Regards,
Saria Benazir.

18th October, 2007 _ Benazir’s Homecoming with a Benazir Vision - By Saria Benazir.

Times, going too swift _ roving all around & considering the golden sun glimmers of October 18, 2007 _ Ah! A scrutiny of the ambiance all about _ Either gazing at the sky, were those the crests of Himalayas or the gesticulates of the Arabian _ Were those wolfs in the woods or doves in the air _ Whether that was the soil or the firmament ¬_ All around was dispersed a Hope _ An expect which had likely died off, over a century _ Where the eyes caught spectacle of nothing, but red, green & black flags, casing the scope_ No words, but JEAY BHUTTO & WELCOME BENAZIR! _ O! Then unquestionably, one starts to muse about “Who Benazir?” The rejoinder comes “The same daughter of the East, who was banished, eight years ago” and then probably, the question “Why”? And the answer, I guess it’s what so likely fair in Pakistan’s politics only_ the only rationale following was that she spoke for classlessness, concerned, not for her own luxuries, but for the people of Pakistan! Exactly, she did not hold empathy, too callous enough to see millions starving or reaching the heavens, due to anguish and even greater excruciating is the fact that people who committed suicide, just because they had no means of survival. For these pitiable and distressed people, it was PPP which spoke of “BREAD, CLOTHING & SHELTER”, but who in the world can value that in Pakistan, and according to the commandments of the KING’S Parties, these things are just the chattels of the ruling class_ Not a layman, of course, from their point of view, he does not even acquire the right to take a gasp in the atmosphere of the state or moreover, he’s to reimburse the outlay of the sky as well. Situations like such prevail in the state & still, they speak of Change _ of a Revolution, superior to the FRENCH REVOLUTION, Oh God! It’s they, who address of ECONOMIC STABILITY in the country or they don’t have a little ignominy in uttering such a big lie in front of the world “Only 15% of the country’s total population is beneath the contour of poverty”, but start to knock every door _ The door of a layman’s house and then figure up the number of families, who daily take their meal twice…! You’d get to recognize the facts. Yeah! It is the same politicians, who speak of DEMOCRACY & tot up out the number of political prisoners in every jail of Pakistan! O! What a great democracy?? The leaders of the time, I mean the President or the Prime Minister mistook to declare PAKISTAN as the LARGEST DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC of the world_ oh! Such a Republic, in which the opposition was never even authorized to sit in the Parliament! God!!! When I inscribe this too, the highlighter slithers out of hand & for a while, I think like “Can I _ Who hardly knows the meaning of starvation can subsist in such clauses?” “I _ who’s hardly or assembled out of the well furnished rooms can ever imagine of living in a prison”? That all pinches the peace of mind & thereby, such incidents, & the people conscientious for the crisis _ their shoe doesn’t even hassle _ God! Can a person be such a sick??? Or too arctic to feel anyone else’s pain??? At least, there are people like so in Pakistan’s politics!

No less than a grave was survival hard in Pakistan & in those instants, the homecoming of a trust _ A chronicle too long that if I’m going to start putting the details on a paper, it might take so long or absorb every breath of my life in it_ Still, it would be left incomplete _ A chore, I’d fail to do, for that is a viewpoint and a heritage, filled with blood _ Red, visible all around, but October 18 _ A day, that had never-ending collision on not my being merely, but on the lives of millions! Millions, who on the day altered the purpose of their lives _ It was a day, and the enormity of it is so likely that words if truth be told fall short of its merit…..for the vision was incredible _ The destiny was stupendous _ The return was the yearning of trillions! A dove, flying with the insignia of harmony and egalitarianism _ and the world, waiting frantically to hail her _ yes! It was the return of BENAZIR _ Ah! I epistle it “BENAZIR RETURN” _ I connote INCOMPARABLE RETURN, for the humanity had never witnessed someone, and that too, a leader of the opposition, and in the presence of so many intimidations, a nugget, being welcomed with such enthusiasm! For Benazir’s the ardor of the thousands! A gargantuan sea of support that was with each of its brandish, chanting out WELCOME BENAZIR!! It was the legend of a metropolitan, which failed to house the Bhutto’s daughter’s Supporters! Narrations & Media excerpt the return of Savior, dressed in her country’s national colors _ A Benazir, dressed in emerald with her ashen scarf, hovering on her head! Her eyes, filled with an optimism of making a new Pakistan _ A Benazir Pakistan.

Though, the ground realities were too vindictive, but Benazir returned to her state with a BENAZIR nerve, audacity, that was nowhere else to be found! Copious chanting out for Benazir & of course, the world can never close eyes to the martyrs of Karsaz, who gave up their own lives to shield their leader & so many, who became crippled. Yet, history has never witnessed a day like October 18 _ Knowing all the menaces & BB who returned, when the Damocles’ sword was still hanging on her head! That was a day of carnival _ A day, when the soil of Pakistan gained its life, as BB’s feet touched it! In fact, a day like that can never be elapsed & history’s for sure, going to engrave it in Golden books!!

It was the arrival of a hope _ the come back of Democracy! Without qualm, A “BENAZIR RETURN” for a “BENAZIR” cause!

Jeay Bhutto!
Regards,
Saria Benazir.

October 18 , 2007 - The Homecoming of the Insignia of Democracy _ By Saria Benazir

October 18, 2007,
The Thursday of October,
The day, the sun was too intense,
Bringing with its glimmers, an expect,
A wish of a dazzling prospect,
The breezes,
Murmuring at every direct,
Benazir will come,
Revolution will come,
The brandishes of the Arabian,
Still, as if they couldn’t take a move further,
The Himalayas in prostration to God,
Thanking eternity for the sanction,
It had conferred this nation with….

The eyes grab spectacle of a gigantic sea,
A sea of peoples’ support,
Of their approbation for their leader,
For the Daughter of Destiny,
The Champion of Democracy,
It was Benazir,
And the throng was the Bhutto’s daughter’s admirer,
All it had been waiting for,
The daughter of Indus,
The sister of martyred brothers,
And a woman of nerve….
Whose valor was greater than the perils,
Threats of taking away the life……

The twinkles,
When the redeemer of Pakistan treaded,
Stepped on the soil of her ancestors,
A jiffy, where the world can’t shun slits,
Scrapes appear even in the eyes of beasts,
Of the birds and fish,
Where there was zilch to articulate,
The earth flabbergasted,
Benazir’s hands, heaved in reverence,
And in prayers,
In gratitude,
Of finally being able to perceive her fellows,
Of considering the exquisiteness of her native land,
Of sharing the regrets of her people,
Who had been tormented heartlessly,
Had been dispossessed of their breathes,
Of the pale, who had no means of recuperation,
Of the untaught,
Poor children, without any spring of education,
Of sharing the throbbing of women,
Who had given their husbands and children,
For the sake of egalitarianism….

A day in the existence of Pakistan,
A giant city like Karachi,
Turned dumpy enough to house,
The sea of support for democracy,
For after all, it was the homecoming of Benazir,
The influx of a hope,
Of a daring,
For she was the tone of the pitiable,
Of the shelter less,
Of the dejected,
Of the destitute…..!!!

The loam of Pakistan had been calling for her,
Had been edgy enough to receive her,
For there had been too bias,
Too much despotism,
Nothing else was to be found,
Except murkiness, neighboring every way,
No voice was to be heard,
Except that of the explosions,
No other phenomenon to be known,
Except violence and radicalism……

It was the promise of Benazir,
To peter out the anxieties,
To eradicate the tenderness of her people,
To terminate up all the dreariness,
To end up all the chauvinisms,
To make a new Pakistan,
A brawny and prosperous Pakistan,
A Pakistan,
Which was free of starvation,
Poverty, illiteracy and bug….

Verity, sometimes turn to be to unsympathetic,
The revolutions stipulate so much,
The transform calls for too great,
Sometimes, the charge of it,
Circles to be someone’s life,
But not everybody’s dauntless,
Laudable enough to buy the renovation at this worth,
It was the fearlessness of Benazir and only Benazir,
Who for the purpose of saving her soil,
Returned and thereby, gave her life,
Added her blood in her motherland!!!!

This audacity cannot be found someplace else!!!
Jeay Bhutto!!!!

Regards,
Saria Benazir.

THE THROB OF EVERY EMPATHY _BILAWAL BHUTTO ZARDARI _ by Saria Benazir

Unwrapping the eyes, after a sinister night,
A plain scrutiny of heavens,
Birds humming with merriment,
Harmony in the atmosphere,
I heed up to each of the influence,
Then have down pat,
Aah! It’s September 21,
A day, too extraordinary in the life of Pakistan,
In the continuation of Pakistan Peoples Party,
Of course, nothing else than the origin of an anticipate,
So likely, a baby, who was fated to be “Benazir”,
A kid with example less individuality,
An illustration of his beloved mom,
None else than the only one,
The throb of every empathy,
Bilawal Bhutto Zardari….!!!

Moments budge with their swiftness,
Without concern for better or worst,
The specifics, either ruthless or superior,
Life goes on,
The cruel world keeps watching with sprite eyes,
Staring with opened blood filled jowls,
A kid _ No!
He’d been a dupe to anguishes,
With mother, carrying oversize tasks,
Of raising the children,
Proving the incorruptibility of captured husband,
And attending to the ailing mother….
The father,
At the rear of prison gates,
And the relations,
Living in exile,
Far apart on the Arab Lands,
Or in the European Continent,
Millions of miles away,
From their own native land…..

Hardly a year, the family had been together,
The soreness of losing the mother,
That was too hard to stomach,
For the scratches were monster enough to remove,
Life of the precedent years,
Too hard to gain,

Where the universe was bleak,
But the audacity of a teenager,
“My mother always used to say,
Democracy is the greatest revenge”,
From the day,
Thereby started a new-fangled faction,
A new struggle to materialize Bibi’s apparition,
The humankind saw a new Chairman in Bilawal,
Whose words amused every being,
Flair, too atypical to find,
“It was not handed over to me,
Like some piece of furniture,
The party asked me to do it and I did”…!!!

The world heard Bibi Shaheed’s voice,
Whenever he spoke,
Wo sar mangein gey, hum sar dein gey,
Wo khoon mangein gey, hum khoon dein gey,
Wo jan mangein gey, hum jan dein gey.......
Laikin mein apney Nana aur maan key nazriaat ko nahin chor sekta!
The world can’t stop from chanting,
Long Live Bhutto-ism!!

The cadence echoes right of the young Bhutto,
I wish Zia had lived,
I wish he’d lived to witness our revenge..!!!!

Long Live Bilawal Bhutto Zardari _ the True reflection of Shaheed Benazir Bhutto!!!!

Happy Birthday!
Live Long!

Regards,
Saria Benazir!

“SAR CHAHIYAI, SAR DAIY GAY HUM” _ by Saria Benazir.

A day in the existence of Pakistan, when the sun rose with a fresh anticipate _ It was September 21, 1988 , when a new Bhutto came in this world _ All out, that turned to be a ruby note day for the admirers of democracy _ for every person, who deemed in the Bhutto heritage_ Yes, that trust was no one else than the one, who’s a factual manifestation of his mother _ The Daughter of Destiny Shaheed Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto, the child, who was BENAZIR, not barely by name, but also instance less in his traits _ more commonly, even known as the Child who duped the President! _ the only son of my heroic and venerated leaders Shaheed Benazir Bhutto & President Asif Ali Zardari.

Brought up with great love, care and affection, Bilawal Bhutto Zardari from his infancy is a part of that faction, which’s still going on to provide rights to the people of Pakistan _ To provide BREAD, CLOTHING & SHELTER to the poor population of the state and to finish up with all the injustices, which have crippled our society, ever since the foundation of Pakistan. Lettering about the life of this child seems reasonably hard-hitting, as it requires a huge empathy _ A stone-like sensitivity to recall all of the sacrifices, he even had to give as a child for the sake of democracy_ Though, at that time, he might not be even aware of the word Democracy…..! Existence twinges _ The ogles are occupied with rashes for the kid, who could never get the affection of his father at a time, he was in need of it _ Just look back and count out the number of birthdays, he celebrated without his father _ It was his valor, who, then observed his mother, facing thousands of hardships _ The only essence, under the heaps of responsibilities, _ of sustaining the children, attending to the ailing mother, proving the innocence of her captured husband and thereby, leading the largest political party of Pakistan.

Scarcely a year, the family was together, Bilawal had to stomach another very great ache _ The distress of losing his beloved mother _ If her assassination made the whole nation, deprived of a mother, one can imagine the sentiments of her own children_ Life, without Bibi seems impracticable for every of her devotee then how about Bilawal, Aseefa and Bakhtawar, who are surviving without their mother!!! The December 27, 2007 _ The murkiest afternoon and three days later, the world witnessed another BHUTTO in politics _ plucky like a tiger, who confiscated the cleaves from eyes and stood ahead to lead this orphan nation _ to move forwards with the legacy of her martyred mother :- “MY MOTHER ALWAYS USED TO SAY THAT DEMOCRACY IS THE GREATEST REVENGE”.
This was in verity, a demise blow to the opponents of PPP and thereby, every tormenter, when the world again heard the young Bhutto, speaking of continuing with the cause of her mom and not to bow to the desires of any dictator.

“It (PPP) was not handed over to me, like some piece of furniture. The Party asked me to do it & I did”.
From a student and the eldest child of Benazir Bhutto, Bilawal now even came to be known as the “CHAIRMAN” of Pakistan Peoples Party _ The youngest ever teen to lead such a great political party and from the same day, he has proved himself to be the true blood of the Bhutto bequest! His love for the people, like his mother and grandfather and commitment to make Pakistan prosperous leaves no scope for confusion in his capability to be the future Prime Minister of Pakistan (InshAllah), as he rightfully merits it!!!! Where one heeds him speaking to the party workers as
“You and I are bonded by the unbreakable bonds of commitment and loyalty towards one another. Our party is now a global party stretching from one corner of the world to the other. When one speaks about democracy in Pakistan, the Pakistan Peoples Party is the best choice of the people of Pakistan”,
One can judge his political insight _ for he has a leader in himself like Quaid e Awaam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto.

Thereby, one cannot impede chanting out ZINDA HAI BIBI ZINDA HAI after hearing Bilawal Bhutto articulating
“SAR CHAHIYAI, SAR DAIY GAY HUM, KHOON CHAHIYAI, KHOON DAIY GAAY HUM, JAAN CHAHIYAI , JAAN DAIY GAAY HUM, JO FAISLA AAJ TAK KOI NAHI KAR SAKA, WO FAISLA KAR DAIY GAY HUM’!

His intonation like Benazir Bhutto makes him truly unparalleled and precious to us, more than anyone else!!!! The world can gawk at Bibi’s personality through Bilawal’s!

Happy Birthday Bilawal.
May God bless you a long life!

JEAY BHUTTO!!!

Regards,
Saria Benazir.

Pity on These Brazen Beings _ A Shoe for the Savior of Pakistan _ By Saria Benazir

Nevertheless, realities are too uncertain and of course, it’s not too easy to predict misfortunes, but as far as it’s the case with Pakistan, every impossible is possible here. Just look into the history of this state and nature’s going to compel you to close your eyes, for it seems too hard for a human to stare at the thousands of liters of blood lying on the terrain of Pakistan _ a state, which was founded to establish in it a democratic system, keeping in view the principles of Islam _ The same Pakistan, which is known as the centre of Islam, but have a look on its narrations impartially and that truly is more than disappointing to catch sight of murders & only murders _ for that is humanly impossible to describe that in words too or to get even the sketch of it in my mind. Known as the Islamic Democratic Republic of Pakistan, I bet if any of the leaders of the so – called Muslim Leagues or their fellow groups can even give a correct definition to politics and democracy _ that comes ten steps up. I hardly even believe if they understand the meaning of the word “Commons” or if the so – called Supreme Courts and Chief Justices of Pakistan are aware of the term “Justice” or “Law”, for in their books or the education, which they’ve still received, the word commons, or justice does not exist and if Law exists, then all they’re taught is merely how that can be used to hang or exile people, who feel the plight of the poor natives.

Rolling back into the magnificent past, the first great murder _ A judicial murder of the founder of Pakistan & the founder Chairman of Pakistan Peoples Party Quaid e Awam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and looking into the reasons for that, even a layman knows that he has taken from his soul, just because of his promise of providing Bread, Clothing and Shelter to the people of Pakistan, his vow to gather up the broken pieces of the state and make a prosperous Pakistan and his commitment to make it a nation, that is not in need of foreign assistances even for its survival _ This is known as the “UNFORGIVABLE CRIME” in the verdicts of Pakistani courts and later, even the vampires and ghosts weep out loud to see the brutal assassination of the Daughter of Destiny , the daughter of a martyred father _ The sister of Martyred brothers _ Empathy soars to see her waving her people for the last time, still carrying loads of hopes for her people in her eyes _ So many dreams, which were yet to be realized _ Did that hand not even stop for a second, for he was leaving the entire nation orphan forever _ Without any guidance _ Snatching the only Benazir _ The Daughter of East from the world _ A time. When the waves stood still, birds stop chirping, but Gosh! People are too cruel enough to take every of your treasure just in instants!

All, given to Pakistan Peoples Party and the followers of the Bhutto legacy was just prisons, till the date _ Go back and see, who else in Pakistan has spent a greater time in prison than the President of Pakistan Asif Ali Zardari, who spent almost eight years behind the gates of jail & got his tongue cut off just because he spoke for the common people of Pakistan. When released, that too, on medical basis, for he had become a heart patient & what can be a greater sacrifice_ the person, who was not even given this much opportunity to place hand on his children and provide them affection when they were in need of it. The compassion splits into trillions of pieces _ for in his entire married life, he hardly spent 5 of the years with his family _ God! You better know if that is known as justice …?????

Where the paths to move on are so narrow _ where no one can get a way out of mishaps, just give a look to the valor of President Zardari who in such critical situations lost the person, who could give emotional & every other sort of support and finally, December 27, 2007 even snatched her beloved wife from here. There came that time too, when the people called out PAKISTAN NA KHAPPAY _ We don’t need Pakistan. At such critical moments of Pakistan’s history, it has was the same person, mocked by the name Mr . 10 % who saved this Pakistan from drowning in that flood, from where it could never get out, despite all the relieves. This day, he represents the 18 million population of Pakistan, but behind the curtains lie a vast fable of his struggle _ The person, who gave up all his fortunes for the sake of Pakistan & Pity on this shameless class, which gave him just a shoe in reward. What else can be the edge of ignorance!

Wherever the world may go to, the opponents of PPP gets paradise for it or go to hell, the fact remains the same
Aik Zardari, Sab Par Bhaari.

LIVE LIVE PRESIDENT ASIF ALI ZARDARI!

Regards,
Saria Benazir.

63 years of Pakistan & its Political Voice Over _ By Saria Benazir

Though, at instants, life gets too merciless or fate keeps smiling over the helpless human, for he’s impossible to get out of too heavy enough _ a lumber for him to bear. In the ups and downs of life, many of the people give up or quit to move further, but of course, valor, though too rare can still be found on the shell of the globe and the terrain of a state known as the Islamic Democratic Republic of Pakistan, for which democracy is a forbidden fruit and the power of the commons costs thousands of precious lives _ Sometimes, it demands the blood of those gems, which are too rare to find, even if climbing the Everest or reaching the depth of Pacific can’t help you find them. Still, the story of democratic struggle in Pakistan, is a fable, which on reading radiates bottomless abrasions on your heart and life seems to stop _ Murders, was that all which was a part of its narrations of about a century? Where the voice of commons is suppressed, where the layman is without justice and of course, those, who raise their voice for the right are make the worst examples for the rest of the world.

Here, we glance up from the beginning and reach up to the revival of a democratic system in Pakistan by Quaid e Awam Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and then, looking into his commitment with the nation, his dedication to make this country a strong state _ able to defend its territories, a Pakistan, where no one is deprived of Bread, Clothing and Shelter and where the centre of clout lies with the people, where the population is education, free from hunger, poverty and disease _ a Pakistan, which was superior enough to defeat its rivals, but the jewels, given to him as a reward are well known to the humanity.

The world cannot overlook the Princess of Fortune _ my dearly loved leader Shaheed Benazir Bhutto, who spent her entire life, struggling for the rights of the people & in the way of her struggle, where laid all mishaps, just prisons, house arrests or exiles _ and of course, what can be a greater hardship – a bitter, but of course a reality with open eyes to see a father hanged, two young brothers murdered, the husband in prison and the mother, being the victim of Alzheimer’s disease. Facing all that with endurance just for the sake of Pakistan, there even came a time, when this soil required the blood of the Daughter of Destiny and she willingly gave even the last drop of it for the sake of her motherland – her beloved people.

In the path of such pungent facts _ events that empathy refuses to accept, the humanity witnessed the courage of the President of Pakistan Asif Ali Zardari, who became a subject to various tortures _ lost his wife too, just for the sake of Pakistan _ A land, for which his entire family had given up their lives_ In the most tragic moments too, it was saved by the follower of the same legacy, who called out loud “PAKISTAN KHAPPAY”_ We need Pakistan.

In moments of life, where a family was too depressed _ itself in need of support, after losing the loving hand, the land of Pakistan still required more and just a 19 year old child stood ahead to lead this nation, going astray and following the words of his beloved mother Shaheed Benazir Bhutto continued with the bequest of his family “My mother always used to say that democracy is the greatest revenge”. After losing too much too, we’re not hopeless, for we’ve three spotless leading lights on the horizon of the world of politics _ Bilawal, Bakhtawar & Aseefa Bhutto Zardari.

It won’t be erroneous to say that the continuation of Pakistan is all due to the struggle of Pakistan Peoples Party & the blood of Bhutto’ in its soil.

Forever survive Pakistan Peoples Party!

Regards,
Saria Benazir.