THIS IS MY STORY—27
MY JOURNEY THROUGH THE ERA OF AYUB KHAN TO THE TIMES OF IMRAN KHAN.
GHULAM AKBAR
My meeting with Field Marshal Ayub Khan
It was the 30th of June 1959 when in Mamoon Jan’s company I found myself in the presence of the man who had adorned the role of Pakistan’s Messiah, and was seen, alongwith myself, by millions as this Nation’s great hope.
The fact that I was allowed to sit there in their company had a special significance for me at that point of time.
It gave me a feeling that destiny had a role for me to play in the future.
The meeting had been requested for, by Mamoon Jan. The objective was to secure an import licence for offset printing machines for Daily Kohistan which was published simultaneously from Rawalpindi, Lahore and Multan.
The Field Marshal was quick to instruct his Military Secretary to do the needful on top priority basis. The whole matter took barely ten minutes to be settled. Thereafter there was some political talk. I specially remember Mamoon Jaan’s strong recommendation for Jamaat-i-Islami.
“Maualana Maodoodi is a great seer and sage of Islam President Sahib. His services should be utilized fully,” I remember Mamoon Jaan saying. To this the Field Marshal’s response was a grim look followed by a measured reply: “Though I share your Islamic longings Nasim Sahib, I believe that Maulana’s party should focus more on reforming the Society than the Politics.”
At the end of the meeting I remember the Field Marshal saying: “In my view your services to the Nation are more valuable Nasim Sahib than Maulana’s”.
I remember Mamoon Jaan blushing at this remark.
While shaking hands with me the Field Marshal asked Mamoon Jaan: “Is he your son?”
“My nephew, “was Mamoon Jaan’s reply. “I have high hopes in him.”
I’ve not forgotten those words of Mamoon Jaan. He did see in me his extension. This awareness was great to savour, but it was also to sow the seeds of hidden discord between me and the late Khalid Nasim, that were to play in the years to follow a key role in the destruction of Daily Kohistan.
1959 was to be a tragic year for me in the sense that my retired father lost his eye sight to a mysterious disease. Even though one of his eyes was operated upon, he was not to recover his vision for all those seven years he lived subsequently.
Whenever I remember my father, I can’t help crying. There was nothing I could do to undo his agony.
His pension was just not enough to sustain the expenses of a household and my education.
I was in my twenty-first year then. By and large life for me till that moment of realization had been a bed of roses. I had known no hardship. But quite suddenly I came face to face with the reality that not only was I on my own now, but also had the responsibility of sustaining a household that consisted of a blind ailing father, an ailing mother and a young sister. I had also to support my own independent living and education at Hyderabad.
My parents were living in Shikarpur Sindh. But they were to move to Jaranwala Punjab.
In 1960 Mamoon Jan’s middle son Jawed got drowned in a pond.
I also travelled from Hyderabad to Rawalpindi to share Mamoon Jaan’s grief. I met Pakistan’s former Prime Minister Chaudhry Mohammad Ali there. He too had come to offer his condolence to Mamoon Jan.
I remember having a very pleasant discussion with Chaudhry Mohammad Ali who had probably been the only politician whom I had harboured some regard for.
“Pakistan needs the kind of leadership Germany got in the early 1930s, “I remember telling Chaudhry Sahib. He was not particularly displeased with this observation of mine.
“I understand you young man. And let me admit our generation has failed in its responsibility to the Nation-State the Great Quaid had in his mind. Otherwise this Martial Law wouldn’t have come.”
There was genuine pain in Chaudhry Mohammad Ali’s voice as he had said it.
On my journey back to Hyderabad I had a brief stopover and stay in Lahore. Here I met the Late Enayatuallah the Managing Director of Kohistan Private Ltd and Managing Editor of Daily Kohistan. He had been Mamoon Jan’s friend for years. And Kohistan had been his brainchild.
Enayatullah Sahib was to become my teacher, my mentor and the only real boss I ever had.
In our very first meeting we developed an instant mutual liking. He was a man I genuinely respected and admired. Even when we were to get pitched against each other my respect for him remained boundless.
He was truly the Father of Urdu Journalism in Pakistan.
