On the corruption charges framed against Ms Benazir Bhutto as Prime Minister.





Throughout the night the carriage swayed


O’er fertile fields and sand.


Dawn broke. The Sindhi driver spoke;


“You are still on Bhutto’s land.


How much further does it extend?


Is all this theirs, and more?


The officer expressed genuine surprise.


“They were never this rich before.”


“Sain, the driver replied laconically,


‘In this province true wealth is measured


not in miles. A people’s love, a ruler’s word


here are what is treasured.”


In time, young trees that carriage passed


Matured, were felled ere they grew old;


Some were chopped and burned as firewood


One planned into a scaffold.





Green leader, camouflaged in green!


Defying December, you promised us spring.


Was your oath or the public’s love


So expendable, a valueless plaything?


A mandate is like a people’s love


Never uniform in tone.


Our very flag is part green, part white,


Not singularly monochrome.


That flag became your raiment,


Its chiffon white your veil.


The green gradually discoloured until it became


A tainted, painted sign for sale.


Even a nation has only so much to give,


A limit that it can offer.


An electorate should not be held hostage


To be ransomed out of the public coffer.





Today, that old carriage would cross a wasteland


Of arid banks, and DFIs galore.


Stripped branches, once green, chafe fruitlessly;


They were never this rich before’.








[Published in DAWN, 24 August 1990.]