Benazir Bhutto: From My Heart – By Saria Benazir.

8 Mar

33390_133499430012435_100000571377055_250060_2847619_nBenazir Bhutto – my heart glides a beat every time I pronounce the very name, for it means no lesser than an existence to me, and streams in my veins like blood. Bibi – the voice that had stroked my essence, and defined my creation was not an ordinary being. Like her name ‘Benazir’, she is inimitable and wrote the elegy in her red; my Bibi remains my exclusive inspiration and every deed I perform is in veneration to the woman who showed me illumination in the shadows, and gave my countrymen a say by sacrificing her father, brothers, family life and her own life for the earth that was the dearest to her. I owe my Bibi nothing less than my life. She was Benazir, the peoples’ princess, who was laden with the roses when she took the assassin’s bullets to guarantee Pakistan’s survival.

Benazir Bhutto was exquisiteness – her life, an exemplar. She was a saviour, her trademark green and white, a parable of her unwavering commitment to winch the Pakistan’s flag too lofty. The white dupatta that perched on her head (with long dark hair and sometimes a breathtaking flick!) added to her classiness and wrote the myth of a young, unarmed knight in the shining armor of democracy, who fought against the repressive regime of zia ul haq, and stood unabated in front of the fanatics to surface as the first woman ever to head a Muslim state. She was only 35 at that time. Her ashen scarf was also verification of her adherence to her country’s rituals that she greatly appreciated.

Her eyes encumbered with kajal made her looks more sensational than Diana – eyes that were intuitive, and could feel the woe of her dispossessed masses, and would rip into tears to hear the anguishes of her countrymen. These eyes carried the fascination to magnetize huge crowds – they described precision, earnestness, audacity, sacrifice, and nationalism. Love for her people was always palpable in them, so was the soreness of losing her loved ones. Reading these Benazir eyes is implausible – their intensity, too profound to sink in them.

The pink on her cheeks earned her the pet name ‘Pinkie’. Who knew that Pinkie’s life would get trickled into an unplumbed red?

Her ears, often carrying gems were the only one that could pay attention to the cries of the underprivileged, the criticism of the opponents and the counsel of the friends with noteworthy might and broadmindedness. Her broad forehead denoted good luck. What greater fortune would it be to die a martyr’s death?  Her lips adorned with bright shades of lipstick only articulated the truth, and the voice of the marginalized, constructing avenues to the hearts of the people, piercing them with her eloquence and acumen. Her words transformed into the pearls of history books – priceless lessons for the people of all times. She spoke like a tigress; her words scared the boots more than the enemy tanks, and sent frissons to the enemies of democracy.

Her flawless skin and nose demonstrated her high virtues, and the strength of her beliefs. The imam zaman on her shoulders and her wrist illustrated her unyielding belief in her Creator, as she so famously said: ‘Life and death is in the hands of Allah that is why I have the courage to stare in the eyes of death without any fear’. Her wrist watch was an emblem of a punctual Benazir, who always knew her fate that she would not be allowed to live for many years, and she had to do everything before late for the emancipation of her people. ‘Time comes, time goes. We decide what to do with time’ and she dedicated every instant of it to her people who loved her beyond boundaries. Her hands with neatly trimmed nails, and always embellished with four or five finger rings were made of iron, and carved an allegory that will remain unparalleled for all the times to come with a scarlet ink that will never grow fainter.

The mole on her neck defined charm, and her diamond necklaces would add to the grandeur of the already fairy tale character, sent from the heavens to help the dejected. Her outfit revealed her grace – the shalwar kameez, blazer and the scarf she wore enthralled the minds and the dazzling color choices would give a glimpse into a daring Benazir with tenacity and unflinching devotion to her motherland. Her glamour was equally Benazir!

Benazir Bhutto was the most entrancing leader of all the times to come, and the heart throb of millions.

Benazir’s feet left ineradicable marks in the annals of the history. Wherever she treaded, she left a prodigy there, and soil for me to worship. Her nails garlanded in crimson depict the course chosen by her – she was walking in the way of blood.

I have a heart to offer as a red carpet for her feet – their prints made me Saria Benazir.

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