I.S. Johar’s ‘Bhutto’: Anti-Indira Gandhi Then, Anti-Narendra Modi Now

IS Johar’s play ‘Bhutto’, barred from being performed when it came out, is a satire that still rings true.

by IS Johar

In 1982, when IS Johar’s play Bhutto was barred from being performed in New Delhi, because it offended the Pakistan government, he responded saying “Bhutto, the play, is not only anti-Bhutto, it is anti-general Zia, Mrs Gandhi, Ershad… It is anti the demagogic despots of the Third World — that includes Mrs Gandhi…” Had Johar been around he would have had more names to include — Erdoğan, Assad, our very own Narendra Modi. Here’s presenting the text of Johar’s play.

Commentary: In March 1977, the People’s Party of Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto won the second general elections ever held in Pakistan. The combined opposition levied a charge of poll rigging against Bhutto and started an agitation which was getting out of control. Finally, General Zia-ul Haq, who was appointed C-in-C of the armed forces by Bhutto after superseding many generals, took Bhutto into protective custody on July 5, 1977.

(CURTAIN OPENS)

Scene: A jail cell. It is furnished like an upper middle class sitting-cum-dining-cum-bed room. Bhutto enters uniform and plumed pugree, carrying some files. Bhutto surveys the room.

Jailor: Sir, I have changed the furniture as per your orders.

Bhutto: Still tasteless. But not uncomfortable. (Tired, sits on a cane sofa.)

Jailor: Sir, your daily inspection rounds of the jail have made both the staff and the prisoners very happy.

Bhutto: Yes? But it has not made me very happy. Things are shocking, but I don’t blame you. Outside, where I am in charge, they are not less shocking. Anyway one of the first things I will tackle after leaving here will be jail reforms. Keep these prisoners’ petitions on the table. I will examine them and pass orders today only and these must be carried out while I am here.

Jailor: Yes, sir. (He places files on table, salutes and turns to leave).

Bhutto: Don’t go away. Popularity has its drawbacks; one is fear of loneliness. Not physically though; you know what I mean?

Jailor: Yes, Prime Minister Sahib. I have dealt with other leaders though nobody was as popular and your goodself.

Bhutto: I like you. You are a clever sycophant. I despise sycophancy, but not entirely. You know how Caesar, who prided himself on his immunity to flattery, was flattered?

Jailor: I do know Sir.

Bhutto: Obviously you were educated in Pakistan and not abroad. Caesar was flattered when a crony said, ‘Caesar, you cannot be flattered.’

Jailor: Murtza Ahmed, Sir.

Bhutto: That is my eldest son’s name too. But I don’t like it. It was his mother’s choice and I don’t like myself either. (Laughs. Rumbling echoes of laughter from outside.)

Bhutto: Who was that?

Jailor: Oh, I think they have lodged that mad political prisoner in the next cell by mistake. He mimics everyone. I will have him shifted at once.

Bhutto: No, no, don’t. Some entertainment at least. (Pauses) How long have you been in service?

Jailor: Fifteen years, Sir.

Bhutto: You ned not ‘sir’ me all the time. What is your salary?

Jailor: Twelve hundred rupees…

Bhutto: Sir! (Smiling) Never trust a politician. (laughs. The madman haw-haws). How large is your family?

Jailor: I have five children, Sir.

Bhutto: And wives?

Jailor: (Hesitates) Two, Sir.

Bhutto: You are embarrassed, aren’t you? I too have two and I am also embarrassed. I have tucked away the first wife in my village. I pay to keep her out of sight. We wogs are like a circus clown standing on two running horses — the slow feudal horse and the fast democratic horse. We can neither keep them at an even pace nor leave one and ride the other for the fear of falling in public estimation. (The jail bell rings.)

Jailor: Lunch time, Sir. What would you like to eat?

Bhutto: (Jokingly) You should have a menu card for VIP prisoners. Marie Antoinette asked for a menu card for her last meal before she was guillotined. Have you heard of Marie Antoinette?

Jailor: No Sir.

Bhutto: I think I will usefully employ myself here if I conduct classes for you and your staff. It will certainly be more constructive than being a Prime Minister. (Smiles) Where was I?

Jailor: The lunch, Sir.

Bhutto: Oh, yes. I don’t bother about food. Once I was a fervent gourmand but the Asiatic politics prohibits that. Gandhi was considered great because he only drank goat’s milk and could fast for many days. Great willpower that fellow had. You may go now. (The jailor salutes and moves out.) Look here, send me an application for your promotion. I like you because you are a good listener. A quality I appreciate because I am an incessant talker. (Laughs. The madman keeps up with him.)

Bhutto: It is a laughing gallery. (Suddenly a scream of agony.)

Bhutto: (Gets up perturbed) What was that?

Jailor: (At the door now) A political prisoner is being interrogated, Sir.

Bhutto: Oh (More cries of agony). Remove him at once to some other ward where I cannot hear him. At once, I said. (Jailor runs out with his assistants. The screams cease after a minute.)

Bhutto: (Ruminating) The lure of politics and its power! One has gone mad and other is about to. (A sentry enters and salutes.)

Sentry: Sir, your wife and daughter to see you.

Bhutto: Ah, it is the first time that my wife and daughter are announced to me. I feel like the Japanese emperor. (Solemnly) Let them enter. (Sentry exits, Nusrat and Benazir rush in followed by two liveried bearers carrying tiffing boxes. The bearers proceed to lay the lunch as the women run towards Bhutto and try to plant a kiss on his cheek. He steps back and majestically offers his hand to be kissed by them. They laugh and kiss his hands on bended knees. Their laughter is imitated by the prisoner next door. The women are surprised.)

Bhutto: It is the mad mimic next door. (Laughs. The mimic repeats. The women laugh. The mimic copies them.)

Benazir: You are having a most wonderful time, Abba.

Nusrat: Yes, you should come here every year for a month.

Benazir: Abba, why did you refuse us permission to visit you earlier?

Bhutto: That would have contravened the rules of the jail manual.

Benazir: Bah! As if you care for rules.

Bhutto: I did not even allow Zia to visit me all these days.

Benazir: I bet you did that to avoid the impression of collusion with him.

Nusrat: (Smiling) Political observers who are hard put to interpret the actions of the politicians should simply interview their children to get at the truth.

Bhutto: Tell me about the reaction to my arrest. First of all, I am most impatient to hear about what the people think.

Benazir: (Excited) It is fantastic, Abba. The phones don’t stop ringing. “Why has he been arrested? Where have they taken him? How long will they keep him? The whole country will rise in revolt if they don’t free him soon.” Everyone’s threatening something.

Nusrat: They all believe that Zia has blundered in arresting you because this will make you the most popular man in the entire history of Pakistan.

Bhutto: Superb. The opposition will be finished now and the agitation will peter out. (Addressing his bearers.) What do you think Ahmed, and you Abdul?

Ahmed: I don’t like to see you in prison, Sahib. You are a king not a criminal.

Abdul: (Taunts Ahmed) He is a duffer, Sahib. He can’t read even an Urdu paper. I read Jang daily. They have proclaimed you as another ‘Qaid-e-Azam.’

Bhutto: Insha-allah. Another Qaid-e-Azam. Now I will rule Pakistan till the end of my life. What about Zia? Did he even phone?

Nusrat: Poor man is most worried about his taking you under political custody, being misunderstood by you and the people. It will make him unpopular but he had to do it for your sake, he said.

Bhutto: He has nothing to worry. Till I am alive, no one can touch him. Once, when he became concerned about my safety, he hinted at my protective custody and I blew him up. He trembled and apologised. I am glad his genuine concern for me overcame his fear and he unconsciously did me a signal service. First I was furious and I thought of hanging him for his disobedience. But here in jail, when on my inspection rounds, I found all the prisoners and the staff wildly cheering and shouting ‘Bhutto Zindabad’ I realized that God had acted through Zia to grant me greater glory. (The solemnity of the moment silences everyone.)

Bearer: Lunch is ready, Sir.

Nusrat: Come Zulfi, let’s eat.

Bhutto: (Still in trance) I have no appetite. You start.

Nusrat: (Irritated) How can you eat, drink and breathe politics all the time? You politicians are all crazy.

Bhutto: (In low voice) It is the crazy who rule the minds of mankind.

Benazir: (Mockingly claps) Great quote, Abba. Now join us ordinary mortals for a morsel of food. (The mad man also claps and repeats her words. It makes everyone laugh and the lunatic mimics them.)

Nusrat: I bet your crazy neighbour will soon demand a share in your glory. Come and eat. Benazir has herself made your favourite chicken kababs.

Bhutto: Has she? Then I must eat. (He moves towards the lunch table, but stops half way.)

Bhutto: (Shouts) Sentry. (Sentry enters) How many of you are guarding my cell?

Sentry: Four of us, Sahib.

Bhutto: All four of you come in and eat with us.

Sentry: Shukriya, Sahib. But you have it first and we will eat the remaining, outside there.

Bhutto: But why can’t you join us here?

Sentry: (Awkwardly) How can that be, Sahib? You are our master. We will eat afterwards (leaves).

Bhutto: British statesman Burke rightly said, “The slave is the greatest supporter of his own slavery.” (They start eating)

Benazir: But Abba, you never ask the servants at home to lunch with us.

Bhutto: The two faces of a politician, my child. What I do here will be reported all over the country. The image is the thing.

Benazir: That is downright hypocrisy.

Bhutto: So it is, but the people demand it. It is like clever dribbling in a soccer game. The ball does not advance but the spectators love it.

Benazir: I cannot understand you sometimes, Abba.

Bhutto: That is because you have a virgin mind. You will understand only when the seeds of politics are sown in you.

Nusrat: I hope to God that never happens.

Benazir: At least not the type of seeds that Abba and his contemporaries are born from. Men, not only with two legs, two eyes and two ears, but with two faces and two tongues also.

Bhutto: Politics is a game, my dear. If you do not play well, you are ruthlessly dropped from the team.

Benazir: It is a game played by the hangmen who are leaders and comprise one percent, for the pleasure of their hangers-on who comprise 19 percent of the populace. But it is at the cost of the 80 percent who are hanged — the workers and peasants.

Bhutto: (Good humouredly) We have a female version of Che Guevara in our family. I forgot he is your hero, but where is he now? Dead and forgotten?

Benazir: He lives forever in the hearts of the youth. Che Guevara will forever be a beacon of light for those who discard power for service. He gave up the foreign ministership to die as a hounded revolutionary in a hostile country. Abba I love you, but I cannot accept all your political bullshit.

Bhutto: (Angry) Like a parrot, you are repeating the stupid ideas of that comic young man, who keeps fooling you all the time.

Benazir: What is wrong with a boy phoning me? He is my friend, not my lover, though he could well be that too.

Bhutto: In our culture, we do not distinguish between between boyfriends and lovers and I certainly don’t approve of your contacts with young men.

Benazir: If you are so worried about your culture then why did you send me to Oxford, why didn’t you keep me in a ‘burqa’, or maybe I too was a ball for your political dribbling?

Bhutto: Shut up. I won’t have this sort of talk from my daughter. (Benazir angrily flings a plate that crashes to the floor and rushes out of the cell. Nusrat runs after her, shouting. But Benazir has vanished. A furious Bhutto pulls away the table cloth scattering plates all over. He rushes towards Nusrat who stands nonplussed.)

Bhutto: You made her so headstrong. She dares to defy and insult me. (To bearers) Get out (The rush out).

Nusrat: (Calmly) You are accustomed to opposition, Zulfi.

Bhutto: Certainly not from my own daughter.

Nusrat: All the great conquerors were helpless when pitched against their children. What a way to give a taste of defeat to the invincible!

Bhutto: Oh don’t pour your heavenly philosophy on me. You better tell her not me provoke me in future, or…

Nusrat: Or, what? The Prime Minister of Pakistan will hang her? Throw her in the dungeon? Extern her from the country? Or maybe hold her in protective custody.

Bhutto: You women are all sneaky and sly creatures. You sure know how to exploit a man’s weakness and hold him to ransom.

Nusrat: We sure do, and yet we do not take undue advantage of it and because we are better beings than men. We suffer untold miseries and yet we don’t exercise our power.

Bhutto: (Sarcastically) I am hearing a new thesis, a new philosophy being propounded today, which I never learnt at either Harvard or Oxford.

Nusrat: You never learnt it because you men have kept it out of all text books. You men have an exaggerated notion of your power over women. Your physical superiority has taught you to live by your ego and that is where you are most vulnerable. The most suppressed women can finish her male oppressor — be he the father, brother or husband — by a socially prohibited gesture or even a look.

Bhutto: (Definitely) Then why don’t they do it, why do they suffer?

Nusrat: Because of the sinister brainwashing that their virtue lies in their suffering. If your discarded first wife takes to a public platform against you, you won’t know where to hide in spite of all your power and glory. But all she does is to write an occasional letter abusing me.

Bhutto: You are even more dangerous than my daughter.

Nusrat: (Coming to him and holding his hand) I only wanted to tell you that Benazir and I love you not because we have to.

Bhutto: I love you both too, but I wish she was a little more respectful. Murtaza doesn’t offend me even though I have trained him to be of independent mind.

Nusrat: Luckily for you, he is at that stage where chasing girls is more rewarding than political glory.

Bhutto: That is good. But I hope he will soon grow out of that stage.

Nusrat: (Teasingly) If you have not grown out of that phase at your age, how do you expect him to? (Both heartily laugh. The mimic joins them. Jailor enters.)

Jailor: General Zia has come to see your, Sir.

Bhutto: Ask him, I mean, request him to wait for a few moments.

Jailor: Right, Sir. (Exits)

Nusrat: Your shouldn’t make him wait.

Bhutto: (Smilingly) I may not be able to manage my family but I can manage a horde of generals.

Nusrat: Ayub also looked harmless and then became a dictator.

Bhutto: And I dislodged him. As for Zia, his ambitions are up there in heaven not here on earth. Why do you think I superseded so many to make him the C-in-C. Even if I hurt his ego all he will do is say an extra namaz asking Allah to forgive me. Have you ever met him?

Nusrat: Once, only briefly. He kept his eyes down and did not even see my face.

Bhutto: He believes it is a sin to look at any woman’s face except his wife’s.

Nusrat: (Teasing) And you believe otherwise.

Bhutto: (Laughing) You should have married someone like Zia. (Lightly) Have a second look at him. (Shouts) Sentry, send in Zia Sahib.

(Zia enters. He is in achkan and shalwar, without a cap. Bhutto and Nusrat exchange amused looks.)

Zia: Adab-Arz Begam Sahib. (To Bhutto) Adab Janab.

Bhutto: (Nodding) Where is your uniform? I hope you have not resigned as a penance for arresting me!

Zia: I had to come away immediately after namaz for some urgent consultations.

Nusrat: I thank you General Sahib, for putting my husband here. First time in years, he had some time to discuss things with me.

Zia: My wife has the same complaint about me though I am not as busy as a Prime Minister.

Nusrat: At least Allah has no complaint about you as you are in communication with Him all the time.

Bhutto: Nusrat, you know I have upgraded Zia here so that he can get me upgraded there (Zia laughs. The mimic imitates this low-key laugh).

Zia: Oh, that mimic is still there? Our jails are overcrowded because we forget to take people out. (The accidental remarks creates a slight air of uneasiness.)

Bhutto: Don’t forget to take me out. (They all laugh heartily. But the mimic copies only Zia’s laugh and it makes them uncomfortable again.)

Nusrat: I will be getting along. Zia Sahib, you must come and visit me and the children.

Bhutto: (Humorously) Visiting ladies when their menfolk are away? Zia will not be guilty of such corruption.

Zia: My wife and children will certainly seek permission to visit you. (Nusrat does adab and leaves.)

Bhutto: You know Zia, my wife and daughter are great women. It is the first time that I have really come to know them.

Zia: We think that we know people around us and then suddenly we discover that we don’t know them at all.

Bhutto: Well, what is the news on your front? How did the army react to my arrest?

Zia: Same as the opposition. Some think that I have colluded with you, but only Allah and you know that I have done it against your wishes.

Bhutto: But you blundered into a masterstroke. A couple of mistakes like that and I might think of you as my successor.

Zia: May God give you longer life than me so that I have the opportunity to serve at your feet till the last breath.

Bhutto: You said you have to consult me urgently.

Zia: Yes, Sir. I have come to seek orders for your immediate release.

Bhutto: That would surely give it a colour of collusion. You let me decide the time and the hour.

Zia: But it has made me unpopular. In fact, it has made the entire army unpopular.

Bhutto: (Laughs) You are a novice in the art of politics. I must give you a few lessons so that you can at least manage during my tours abroad. You are the only man I can trust.

Zia: I am honoured, Sir, and eager to learn.

Bhutto: Lesson No 1: The fellow who said you cannot fool all the people all the time was the biggest fool. History is full of events where millions deliriously died for manufactured causes from which they had no personal gain, millions of poor Indians and Pakistanis who cannot point out Kashmir on the map become hysterical over the issue as if it is their personal property.

Zia: (Like a student) But the gain can me emotional?

Bhutto: Right, and that is lesson No 2: Centuries of deprivation has lowered our people in their own eyes, which is worse than starvation. Therefore, if they are fed with ego, the supply of which is free and infinite, they will forget to demand for food which is damn difficult to provide.

Zia: But will not their bloated egos demand victories against enemies which may not be possible?

Bhutto: Avoid war but do not avoid the war-speech. Bored people are dangerous people.

Zia: But if the enemy forces war on you?

Bhutto: Then promise victory but pray for defeat because victorious people are even dangerous than bored people. When there is nobody to defeat they will defeat their own leaders. Victory is like tasting blood. Look at the history of the victorious leaders of the world. People pushed Caesar unceasingly to win laurels but when he ran short of them, the stabbed him to death. Alexander, when he blundered into his first victory, was forced into marching thousands of miles on foot through hostile lands and climates for more blood for his people. Finally, he contracted a foreign disease and died in a dingy boat and his people hailed the next hero. Napoleon had to win battle after battle to satiate his people’s hunger for victories till his one and only defeat at Waterloo. After that his nation let him die an abandoned and a heartbroken man. Nearer at home, Indians worshipped Gandhi as God till he won the battle for freedom against the British, but when he preached friendship with Pakistan, they shot him to death. Bengalis hailed Mujib as the father of the nation when he won his fight against us but when he failed to promise any further victories, they killed the Father and his family most callously and cruelly.

Zia: But, our General Yahya Khan had to bow out when defeated by India?

Bhutto: That is because he was a General like you and not a politician like Nasser of Egypt, who attained the pinnacle of popularity after an ignominious defeat against Israel.

Zia: It never occurred to me.

Bhutto: The people are a mindless mass watching the magic show of politics. When a clever magician bungles a trick he instantly transforms their jeers into applause by diverting them to another trick.

Zia: It is so enlightening to hear you, Sir.

Bhutto: Last lesson: Beware of pity. Never pity your political opponents in their defeat. Be ruthless. In politics it is either the ‘Takht’ or the ‘Takhta’. When I decide to get out of here, I will examine my opponents some of whom are your scheming Generals, who played upon you naivete, advised you to arrest me hoping to finish me, not knowing that it would boomerang. (Suddenly there is a rising noise outside, with shouts of ‘kill him’, ‘kill him’ and ‘General Zia Murdabad’. The jailor rushes in.)

Jailor: (To Zia) Sir, having learnt that you are here, most prisoners are running amuck. It is impossible to control them. Please leave at once. I’ll take you to safety via the back door.

Bhutto: Yes, yes, go at once, Zia.

Zia: (Calmly) Thank you, Sir, but I prefer to face them.

Bhutto: Don’t be foolhardy. You don’t know what mob fury is.

Zia: Then I would like to know it, Sir. (He salutes Bhutto and leisurely starts moving out. The jailor follows him.)

Zia: You stay here. (The Jailor stops.)

Bhutto: Then I will come with you.

Zia: (Firmly) Let me have the opportunity to face them alone, Sir.

(Bhutto halts and Zia exits. Bhutto and Jailor anxiously listen. The noise gradually subsides and soon there are shouts of ‘General Zia Zindabad’. Bhutto is dismayed. The mimic imitates General Zia’s low sarcastic laugh.)

(CURTAIN)

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