On The Blues With My Red, Happy 26th BakhtawarBZ – By Saria Benazir

25 Jan

CZfvniQWcAARoEYFor her, my heart is the diary printed in ichors, for she is the single ingredient of my RBCs and WBCs both – the oxygen in my breath, the good fortune in my charm and my buttress when I could not stand for myself. She is the sunup I anticipate and the religion I live out. She’s my knot to God. Regal in birth, she embodies the expression. Raised in the lap of the century’s iron woman, she exhibits her features in the most untainted form. Justly named by her mother, she is the pudding of superlatives. She is Benazir’s Bakhtawar.

January 25, 1990 ascended with a scarlet memo for Pakistan’s first female Prime Minister. Newspaper headlines read ‘Baby girl born to Benazir’; the baby has been an enchantress since. Glued to mama’s heart and her favorite, she was Shaheed Bhutto’s ‘Bisket’ of love that she passed on the masses that belonged to her, a liaison which Itty admitted to in her formative years – typified by detachment of thousands miles between herself and her mother, and her father behind bars for the sins he did not commit. Her life’s chronology is a gargantuan stream of affliction she suffered for the inhabitants of her homeland with no gripes. Banishment did not incise the cord and she kissed her mother good bye on her return to save her nation, only to hear the noise of the bullets that placed her mother, who did not overlook her 18th birthday present, under ruby wreaths in Garhi Khuda Bux.

Shaheed Mohtarmah Benazir Bhutto’s blood brought the return of democracy, and her party to the treasury tables she occupied twice in her life span as the first woman to head a Muslim country. Months later, the younger Benazir accompanied her father in what was democracy’s feat to the Presidential palace – on the Election Day, the dutiful daughter in attendance, tears, ‘Jeay Bhutto’ and ‘Zinda Hain Bibi’ slogans, her mother’s portrait in her hand and her emblematic white scarf decked the Parliament building. An awards ceremony to acclaim SMBB was ornamented by Bakhtawar standing with a red rose next to her photograph, manifesting the soul of the realest anecdote of commitment and barely five years after her mother’s assassination she gifted her with a burgundy degree certificate from the University of Edinburgh that lit up her birthday candles in the azure.

The people’s misery was Shaheed Mohtarmah Benazir Bhutto’s pain. She promised to cure it by pledging to prolong her battle. Her first official address to the future Pakistan in golden and the choker her mother left her glimmered with sanguinity and BB Junior’s allure. Worshipped by the underprivileged of the country like her martyred mother whose vision is her life’s mission displayed by her patronage of the Shaheed Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Institute of Science and Technology, hauling it to new loftiness and making education free of charge for the victims of terrorism therein and forming a flood relief NGO to lend a hand to the affected, together with her superior than existence smile and nerve already install her into the veins of her followers and send quavers to the contenders of a modernistic Pakistan.

Marvi of Malir, the jiyalas know her; comparable familiarity is palpable in Bakhtawar’s eyes and tone. Donning the non-political Bhutto Zardari label did not grant her getaway from the compulsion because the Bhuttos are indivisible from the population and Bakhtawar is the spine of the celebrated family. Bastion to her father and siblings and always on the hedge to guard them, her presence alongside the PPP Chairman and her brother Bilawal Bhutto Zardari constructs an overpowering duet. BBZ squared is equivalent to immeasurable fascination and imposing audacity. Always heedful to everyone’s woes, the Team PPP head surpasses all in defending the streamer with crescent and star which is stained with the red of her kin. Heroine by definition, she is the supreme stimulus for her countrymen to realize the implausible; Benazir Bhutto’s buoyancy manifested in her valor.

Twenty-six years later, time, space and new entrances cannot fade the twenty-two letters engraved intensely on my epithelial, connective, muscular and nervous tissues because she is who I love from the oceanic of my passion that is for no one else. I pasted this message on the blues and they are purple tonight.

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