An Open Letter from a Sindhi to the Martyr of Democracy, Shaheed Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto
By Raja Zahid Akhtar Khanzada
A Cry from the Heart of Sindh
Respected Martyr of Democracy, Leader of the People, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto Sahib,
Assalam Alaikum!
As I write this letter, my heart feels heavy, my eyes are filled with tears, and my mind is engulfed in a storm of questions. We didn’t see you as just a political leader, we saw you as a savior. Your roar challenged Ayub’s tyranny, your speeches taught us how to dream, and your sacrifice taught us the meaning of democracy. But today, like every resident of Sindh, I find myself asking: Is this the Pakistan you dreamed of?
Saeen, you told us that the people are the real source of power. You said, “We will eat grass, but we will build the atomic bomb.” And we did eat grass, made sacrifices, let our children sleep hungry—but we never betrayed your mission. Yet today, the country that became a nuclear power cannot even deliver justice to its own citizens. And your own party, the Pakistan People’s Party, for which you gave your life, is now a hostage in the hands of power-hungry elites.
Bhutto Sahib!
Sindh has been patient after your martyrdom. When Saeen G.M. Syed spoke of Sindh’s autonomy, we didn’t support him, because we believed your party would lead us to our destination. We chanted “Bhutto is alive!” and endured every deprivation with that hope. But the heirs of your party have given us nothing but despair, ruin, and servitude.
When your daughter, Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto, was martyred, we thought perhaps this sacrifice would bring a new dawn. But that dawn never arrived. We were told to take revenge through our vote that “vote is the weapon of revenge.” And we did vote. We helped your party reach the President’s and Prime Minister’s office through our vote. But what did we get in return?
In Sindh, where your name has ruled for over forty years, even your birthplace Larkana doesn’t have clean drinking water. In Thar, children die of hunger. In Karachi, the sons of Sindh wander in search of identity. Lands have been mortgaged to powerful families, farmers are drowning in debt, and students are committing suicide out of despair for jobs. Hunger and poverty rule all around. Instead of giving people employment, your party has turned families into beggars, lining up for charity.
We endured all this.
But now we’ve reached a point where we have nothing left to give
And yet your party asks us for our river!
Leader of the People!
Today, your party has become a symbolic name devoid of your vision, devoid of your revolutionary passion. The party that once stood for workers, peasants, students, and the oppressed is now bowed before capitalists, contractors, and dynastic politicians.
Sindh once called you its son, and you gave it the status of a mother.
That mother is still waiting for her son.
Her youth rot in unemployment, ignorance, and poverty.
They either waste away at home or drown in the sea trying to reach Europe.
Where should we go now, Bhutto Sahib?
Was this the fate of Sindh to always sacrifice and receive deprivation in return?
Are we destined to forever place flowers on the graves of our martyrs while the living suffer a grave-like existence?
We cry out to your soul!
O Martyr of Democracy! If your soul can hear us, give us a sign!
We are shattered, broken, but still hopeful that your spirit will call out to us again.
We need that same zeal you gave us when you stood against Ayub’s oppression,
that unity you felt for your Bengali brothers,
that spirit of sacrifice that took you to the gallows
it is that same spirit that keeps us alive today.
We devoted our lives to your ideology, in your name.
We carried your flag through every storm, every conspiracy, every wound!
But we too have a right to live
The same right for which you gave your life!
We want your ideology not just preserved in books,
but living in every heart, echoing on every tongue.
But today, all of Sindh stands at the Rawalpindi gallows,
waiting for its turn to be martyred.
Chanting your name,
we stand at that same gallows
with our land, our water, and our very lives in hand.
The party that we voted for in your name after your martyrdom
now stands on the brink of life and death.
And today, that party demands our river.
If the River Indus dries up,
If the body of Mother Sindh begins to vanish,
Then neither we will remain, nor our legacy,
Nor your dream, nor the thunderous chants of “Jiye Bhutto.”
So O Shaheed Bhutto!
We call out to you one last time
If there is still time, then guide us!
Otherwise, our silence will become the loudest scream in history.
Wassalam,
A Desperate but Loyal Sindhi
