Pakistan Times
Oct. 28, 1989
By Sadiq Jafri
MURREE—”We are here to watch them, lest they run away and join hands with the Federal Government. They are not allowed to leave the hotel building or to sec visitors. They will be freed where this no-trust issue is over”.
This was said by a young, tall and frail-looking Assistant Sub Inspector of Punjab Police, especially transferred from Rawalpindi to this hill station and posted at the picturesque Bright lands Hotel’s main gate, where over two dozen IJI MNAs are staying these days.
The ASI is one of the six members of the surveillance team, which stops each and every stranger at the gate, and also checks the permission papers of anyone coming out of the place. All the rooms of this multi-block old fashioned hotel have been hired by the Punjab Government and the staff has been replaced by officials of regular police and other agencies.
“No. There is no threat to these MNAs’ lives. You might have read about the no-trust move in newspapers.
In fact, these are the ones who have signed it. The Punjab Government does not trust them. They can run away, go and get some money and become ministers. You know these people. That is why we have been ordered to monitor their movements thoroughly”.
The same ASI, who has overcome the first phase of suspicion about a three-member journalists’ team, discloses this in a carefree manner. The journalists—a reporter each from two leading Urdu national dailies and myself—have not disclosed their identity. One of the two other reporters is a woman and she has asked to see a lady MNA present in the hotel. A guard has gone inside to ask for permission and this conversation takes place when we wait at the gate.
The ASI is in light blue shalwar kameez and a pull-over. Why is he not in his uniform? “I belong to regular police but I am wearing this dress because of the peculiar nature of my present duty”.
Don’t you think that these MNAs should not betray Mian Nawaz Sharif at his crucial point? a journalist throws a casual question at the ASI, as if just out of curiosity. “You do not know what we know,
Sir,” the ASI is keen to offer a reply. Perhaps he is a little disturbed over the awkward position that this present assignment has put him into. “Mian Saheb has done everything for them. But they are strange people. They do not realize what harm they can do to Mian Saheb if they betray him. He is a great man. He has changed my life with his gifts. But are so ungrateful people”.
The man who had gone inside with the message of an “emergency”, arrives with permission. The woman visitor can go to the lady MNA while the two men can wait at the reception. In the small reception room, half of which serves as telephone exchange, a policeman-turned telephone operator welcomes the visitors with a terse smile.
Why cannot we go inside? one of the two visitors asks, as if worried over the strange kind of security at a hotel.
“You have been called in only because you came with a woman, and we thought there might be some emergency in the family of the lady MNA. Otherwise, we do not allow anyone. No visitors. No telephone calls. Incoming or outgoing. You know. People can come and elope with the MNAs.”
This strange exercise takes place in broad daylight when we are just short of a decade to start the 21st century. The poor fellows are virtually prisoners at the hands of their own political colleagues. The Friday prayers are offered under strict security.
On their return, we just run into them, as guests of the woman visitor of a lady MNA. Fortunately, they find an MNA who speaks the truth.
“They should not do it with us. We are the staunchest supporters of IJI. We cannot think of deserting them. But we feel sorry are ashamed to see all this. We cannot go out without prior permission from the security chaps. If at a we are allowed, at least one security person accompanies each us and listens to each and every word that we speak to our co leagues or to some friend who waves at us just passing at Mall Road”.
The three of us join together and find another MNA, who is so frustrated that the poor person does not talk without abuses and curses. ‘The tragedy is that I do not want to join the other camp. That is why I am dragging along. Still, a fellow MNA is watching me day and night”.
The three “guests” are invited, at the lunch which is just served, by Mrs. Attiya Inayatullh. Small talk continues. “There is no restriction on our movement”, is the sentence that the MNAs utter every second minute as if they have rehearsed it a lot. Even the two MNAs who have confessed everything in privacy say that before the crowd.
“We have 11 PPP MNAs with us here at this hotel”, Rai Ahmad Nawaz Khan says. “No. They are 16 in fact”, Rana Nazeer adds.
“Let us make it clear”, Umar Hayat Lalika interjects. “We have 35 PPP MNAs with us at this hotel”. But soon he admits he is just lying. “You know,” he addresses the guests, “only lies can compete with lies. And the other side is telling a lot of lies”.
Mr. Peter John Sohotra opens up. “The PPP said four IJI MNAs have defected, including myself. But I am standing before you, and le remaining three are also in this premises”.
Ironically, the remaining three NAs whom he was talking about leased a signed statement in Islamabad almost the same time announcing their defection. “They are Rais Shabbir Ahmad, Ghulam Mohammad Manika and Ahmed Allam Anwar.
Anyway, we leave soon, aware of the fact that our recognition can create trouble. We are chased to the gate by two plainclothesmen, and to the mall Road by two uniformed cops. On our way, we run into Gen. (Retd.) Abdul Majeed Malik and feel grateful we left the hotel at the right time. The General knows us.
“But you are moving around so freely, General Saheb?
The General stares at the two security chaps around him who wait for him to move, and says: “1 am born free. No one can confine me”.
The one-kilometer-long sub-lane connecting the Mall at two different places, on which this Bright lands Hotel is situated, is completely in the possession of security guards. About two dozen big and small hotels are located on this road, and all of them are closed, rather deserted. At a few of them, vehicles having number plates of the Punjab Government (S&GAD etc.) are seen, and some fidwis are roaming around.
Two special check posts have been created on the Rawalpindi Murree Road by the Punjab police, who notes down the numbers of every passing vehicle. The Bright lands Hotel is called “red” by the cops for reasons known to them.
Shopkeepers at the Mall say there is a general harassment in the small hill station. Their business has also been affected. These are the few last days of the season the presence of the numerous jawans of police and Punjab Constabulary and barbed-wire barbuds at the Mall and everywhere se has drastically decreased the number of visitors to Picnic spot.
A shopkeeper also confirms the arrival of some dancing and Singing girls for the entertainment of political guests of the hill station
“They have been kept at some lodges built by the Punjab Government recently. A house near the hospital is also known for these things”, he says cautiously and pleads not to be named.
Two MNAs walking at the Mall with Mr. Murtaza Khar wave at us.
“Release us from the Nazi camp that you people have been writing about”, an MNA says satirically, unaware of the little spying that we have done. “We are moving freely. I have just arrived from Lahore”, the same MNA continues.
“Is there any problem?”
“Nothing. We have everything here. The only problem is that we are away from our families”, the other MNA replies.
“But we hear that even this problem of yours has been solved here.”
On this, the MNA laughs heartily, presses my hand and embraces me warmly. “Come to our place”, he offers.
“We shall. In the evening. Minus our woman colleague.”
On this, again, the MNA laughs, nods and joins his colleagues in the stroll.