“Benazir Bhutto is murdered”

“Benazir Bhutto is murdered!”

I got this SMS on my cell phone and in sheer disbelief I laughed it off. But then my phone started to ring with a rather ferocious beat .

It was already a chaotic night for my family. My father had had an attack of GB Syndrome the night before – sister’s wedding. I had to rush to Liaqat National Hospital (LNH) leaving the family at the wedding. I was leaving the car park to drop my wife at my in-laws’ who live near Mashriq Center. Those who live in Karachi would know that it normally takes less than ten minutes to reach Mashriq Center from LNH.

However, the circumstances were anything but normal on 27^th December 2007.

The Daughter of East had been killed – the chairperson of the largest political party in the country. The turmoil was about to begin and it beyond anyone’s imagination how bad it could get.

I quickly drove out of LNH to drop my wife off.  In the beweildering traffic, it took me around half an hour to reach Mashriq Center. Cars were all criss-crossed. I had to return to the hospital immediately to attend to my father. Panic had triggered everywhere and everyone was running to save their life. The spate of traffic coming from National stadium towards Hassan Square had blocked both sides of the road, and going back to stadium was no option then. Traffic grew noisier,   frenzy and agitation seemed to have possessed everyone.

Then there was some firing heard in the backgroundthat made things even worse. Passengers from mini buses started to run amok. Car owners did not have much choice so they stayed inside their cars.  Some volunteers started to direct the traffic and someway or the other it began to move. It took me over an hour and a half to cover a ten minutes distance. I saw people leaving their cars on the road and walking away.

There was just one question in my every one’s mind… “What next?”

Scenes inside the hospital were not really different. Those who were in the hospital to see their relatives were stuck inside. Food and tea in the cafeteria had finished. Benches were occupied and people lied down on the cold floor virtually without anything to keep them warm. Loud sirens of ambulances did not let anyone sleep. Victims of riots were brought in every minute.

I went to the ‘Emergency’ and it was a big mess. Not enough doctors to handle a que of injured like it is when there isa major bomb blast. I donated blood but never enough.

Suddenly there was more noise and chaos. Someone screamed that the rioters were trying to enter the hospital.Everyone got up scared and alarmed. Then someone else confirmed that the gates of hospital were closed. Things settled down a bit.

I called up my sister. She was stuck in Gulistan-e-Jauhar with her husband and a 2 year old son on their bike. They kept looking for a place to hide and eventually reached a masjid; in fact an Imaam Baargah. The Imaam Baargahs had an entry policy though. Only women and children were allowed to hide inside. A fair policy because they could not be sure whether the men coming inside were unarmed or not. Luckily for my sister and hundreds of other women inside, the Imam Baargah custodians did not ask whether they were Sunnis or Shias.

I called my maternal uncle who was driving from Hub to Karachi and had to cross a couple of Goths . He reported fire and mobs all around. He hid his car off-road to save his life.

Slowly the chaos settled down only after taking away so much from Karachiites and rest of the country. I came out of the hospital at around four in the morning and drove to my home in North Nazimabad. Apparently, I crossed burnt tyres, scorched vehicles, shattered glasses and every sign of sheer calamity, but infact, I had walked past burnt hopes, scathed minds and shattered dreams. The city was mourning even at the break of a new dawn. It was infact  wailing over the loss of hundred lives along with the life of the departed national leader.

My story is one of the hundred stories of the night and probably not even a tearful one. I am sure there are many untold stories lost with lost lives.

27^th December 2007 was a cold night. It turned colder when some people took the opportunity to go on a killing and looting spree. The nation lost one leader and thousands of lives in the aftermath. 27^th December 2007 somehow passed but there is no guarantee that such nights will be no more.