Interview with Princess Abida Sultan of Bhopal

[Zafar Ansari]

[The following text is in the "iso-8859-1" character set]
[Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set]
[Some characters may be displayed incorrectly]

PRINCESS ABIDA SULTAN
By Uneza Akhtar

I was ‘vali ahad’, I was responsible to God; when he acceded I was
relieved of that responsibility," she says.
Notching many a first, she is the first woman in the subcontinent to fly
an aeroplane. From a line where four generations of women had ruled over
Bhopal she revolted against the purdah, "mine lasted for three whole
days."

Brought up under the strict vigilance of her paternal grandmother, Begum
Sultan Jahan, who was the first woman in the world to become the
Chancellor of Aligarh University. A regimented upbringing that lay great
stress on the Quran, besides the unconventional pastimes of
swordsmanship, hunting, tent-pegging and outdoor games, with horse
riding taking precedence over all. Educated at home she never went to
college. "I hoodwinked the poor masters who were kept waiting." Donning
the mantle of Chief Secretary and President of the Cabinet she
administered for nine years running. She was married to the Nawab of
Kurwai, Sarwar Ali Khan soon after, but it did not work as she was,
"just not interested in married life." Now at the grand old age
of 83 she continues to live in Malir, once a far-flung area in a green
belt, but now a MQM stronghold that has encroached right up to the
tree-lined lane that leads to her house.

As the car swerves into the short driveway, you cross a 'place-barrier':
you are in Bhopal. The white facade of the meandering bungalow set in a
straggling garden is straight out of the once princely state. Bhopal is
set on an undulating hill with two lakes to its countryside, the cool
minars of a masjid reflected in its waters, the stillness of being
pervading the sprawling kothis with its scrubbed verandahs,
high-ceilinged rooms with taqhs. What I see in front of me now is a
generous slice of that lifestyle. In the two short custard-apple trees
posted like sentinels on both sides of the front door, a light breeze
teasing the budding gulmohar, an aluminium pot (with seeds) dangling on
its low-set branches, a kewra tree striking a stance; just about
everything has a meaning to it, you only had to listen to it. The front
room is full of paraphernalia that has a language of its own. It was as
if bushels of peace had tumbled over my city-driven self. As I soak in
the simple aura of the room, she enters suddenly. In a brown shirt over
ill-fitting pyjamas, a silver taveez on a thick, black cord around her
neck, cigarette in hand, short cropped hair, she sizes me up in one
steady look.

Just back from a recent trip to Rwanda to visit her son, ex-foreign
secretary Shahahryar Khan and now UN representative, she regales us
(some personal friends waiting too) with her views. Expressing relief
over his resignation she felt he needs to slow down.

As I pull out my tape recorder she eyes it and humours me, "don't turn
it on till you begin the interview. You ask me the questions and I will
answer" - and she answered them with a clarity and candour marked with a
crackling spirit and refreshing honesty. Yet the ones she felt did not
merit an answer. "Do you miss Bhopal?" a monosyllable "No" was its
epitaph. And the ones she wished to evade but could not, like why did
her father, Hameedullah Khan, not come to Pakistan - set us on a journey
of words - like unfurling whorls of an onion to arrive at zilch. But
along the way I encountered nuggets, her radical views, her memories,
her unflinching stance, all washed over lightly with a genuine pride of
a mother, "I am grateful to my son; in all the six hundred states, his
is the only outstanding example, he has proved his mettle - and
honourably at that."

Following are excerpts of the delightful odyssey.

"Look I came to Pakistan without informing my father and against his
will so I was not in a position to ask these questions. He was very
upset with me. I did not see any future for my son. I had lived half my
life, the other half would have passed too. The government in those days
had held out false promises that allowances would be granted, privileges
given. I did not believe in a single one of them. And now I feel some
pride that my baseerat proved true.

"We were twice cursed - no, rather thrice; one we were Muslims, second
my father was very active in the Pakistan movement, he never did
anything secretly and thirdly he was the Chancellor of the Chamber of
Princes. After all there is some pride, some self-respect. Like people
who migrated to London, the same people who called for the British to
quit India; I feel embarrassed. Why do I feel ashamed? Who am I? If we
have nothing to gain here except difficulties, then we will be rewarded
in the other life by God. "We mohajirs have made Pakistan, now I even
say that, if it weren't for the mohajir then there wouldn't have been
any Pakistan.

But I don't take the MQM line. I have never supported the MQM. Pakistan
is the result of the sacrifices given by the Indian Muslims. The people
in the region contributed by giving votes; we gave lives, blood,mothers,
sisters. Who can challenge this fact? And all this has been blighted by
Altaf Hussain, because he was elected for four days, drunk with power he
distributed kalashnikovs."

Ask her whether merging their identity with that of the Sindhi would
have helped and she says, "There is no need to merge, if you seek any
rights, have any problems, if you have any questions, you have to deal
with them in a democratic way. You don't take up a kalashnikov. I
believe in democracy. This is not democracy. It does not go with
shooting. There are other methods for it. You need a great deal of
patience for that. Allah himself says in the Holy Quran armed with
rights and patience, victory will be yours.

"When the Holy Prophet (PBUH) signed Suleh Hudabia, the sahaba were
greatly disillusioned. It seemed very humiliating at the time. But then
the very same treaty became the foundation of Fateh-e-Makkah. For me or
for any Muslim there is the Quran, Allah and the Holy Prophet (PBUH).
There can be no better examples." She pauses and continues, her voice
rising by a pitch, as she connects to another thought. "Jinnah Sahib who
founded Pakistan, never once went to jail, never broke a law, this was
his miracle. Gandhi was in and out of prison, Nehru was incarcerated for
long periods. No-one understands this miracle, nor does anyone wish to
think about it.

"I was Chief Secretary and the President of the Cabinet, but all that
was over in 1948. Bhopal was acceded by Nawab Sahib in 1947 to the
Indian government. The state merger came about in 1948, so everything
went, all that remained were flags and number plates. So what is one to
do with them. This was an insult to me. Or does life mean tabla bajaon,
polo khelo, larkiyan nachaon, shikar karo? (sing, dance and be merry)
Not for me.

And what if she had stayed back? "I would have died like the Rani of
Jhansi. In our area the womenfolk were always in the forefront in all
fields. Rani of Jhansi was my ideal, like Ahalyabai of Indore. I too had
a dream. Nawab Sahib on the other hand threatened to abdicate every now
and then and leave for Pakistan. I knew that I would not be able to
fight against their forces, but I would have gone down fighting.

"But all was ordained by Allah. He made my father do it. When he
acceded,
I was no longer responsible.How could I dare to throw this back
into God's face. I would have preferred to have died rather than hand
over something that I thought was a gift from Almighty God. "This honour
was not even Nawab Sahib's making. He was the last and fifth child of my
grandmother. Four children died in a twinkling of an eye and lo and
behold he was a raees (ruler). This is somewhere the Almighty's doing or
not? But people these days don't bring the Almighty into the picture.
Everything is an accident. But I do, I am helpless. I can't function
without the Providence."

One is struck by the manner of the governance in those days. Religion
was the foundation, not the tool that it is reduced to by rulers today.
But if she was so independent, didn't she have a say?

"Our upbringing and background curtailed us from questioning him. I
thought an argument with him was pointless." Again there is this
invisible veil you can't penetrate. Was he offered the governor
generalship by Pakistan, you approach from another plane.

"I have heard a lot of rumours but there is no evidence. We were not in
contact, no letters, nothing until he died," she says with not a trace
of emotion.

"You were there when he had a heart attack," I probe.

"He was dying, he was not even in his proper senses," she says and
closes the matter. But if he had come, I persist.

"If my father would have come to Pakistan, he would been assassinated
the next day, like Liaquat Ali Khan was. Here no good man can survive.
There is no place for an honest man in Pakistan, not in the beginning
not now. At least, Liaquat Ali Khan was an honest man, if not anything
else. Now people try to find all kinds of faults in him, I don't know
about those, but at least he was not a thief. One did not hear of him
acquiring a plot overnight or procuring a licence illegally.

"What did Pakistan do for Raja Mehmoodabad?" she counter questions. "He
died in a charity hospital in London."

But wasn't it Liaquat Ali Khan who could have done something, I point
out trying to reach some conclusion.

"I don't know about that," she vaults to a defensive. "I don't know the
name - but on the whole it could be X, Y or Z. When I went to London,
Dr Mazhar of Bhopal came to see me. He asked me to do something for Raja
Sahib. What could I do? Yahya Khan was ruling then and I had nothing to
do with him.

"When I went to see Raja Sahib he was lying in bed. He saw me and jumped
up. The nurses screamed, he had suffered a severe heart attack. I
admonished him that I would leave if he did not lie down. With tears
streaming down his beard he said, "Baji we are those people who 'kicked
out' the English, called for them to quit India and now these very
people are caring for me. I am at their mercy. He died after two days.
Todate that image of him is imprinted on my mind," said Abida Sultaan.
And for the first time I saw a chink in her armour. For a few seconds
her voice quivered and the next instant her voice waylaid for a moment
had recovered its strong tenor.

Would that mean that Raja Mehmoodabad, Hasrat Mohani and Hameedullah
Khan were not very welcomed by Liaquat Ali Khan, who wished to be a
close aide to the Quaid-i-Azam?

"I have heard all sorts of stories, but they are stories that I can't
believe myself. Like the numerous hadith that don't touch the heart,
legends abound about all great people," she says.

Once again Begum Abida Sultan was disclosing only what she wished to.
No amount of cajoling would yield more. It was not for the first time in
the history of Pakistan that once again 'a few good men' would be heaped
into the rubble of history, unsung. For there is not even a street named
after Hameedullah Khan in Pakistan.

She switches tracks deftly and says, "I have people coming to me
claiming they were great friends of my father,the same is said about
Jinnah Sahib. Everyone knows Jinnah Sahib was a very great person, but
he was a very arrogant person also. He used to come to Bhopal and we
went to meet him in Delhi. But it was during the Round Table Conferences
when we travelled by ship that there was close proximity. Even though I
was a child and saw a great deal of him, he was too stiff and austere a
person - no one wanted to go close to him."

Regarding her association with Fatima Jinnah she says, she admired and
respected her a lot. It is Lord Mountbatten who is the villain of the
piece to her. "It was a trick he played. Any objection had to be raised
before the date set by him and Jinnah knew that. Lord Wavell was a very
decent man but Mountbatten came to finish everything. If Jinnah had
raised an objection they would have made some excuse. Lord Wavell was so
noble he never revealed how or why he was removed.

"Mountbatten was said to be an atheist. He empathised with the
multitheistic Hinduism rather than the monotheistic Islam. Besides, the
relationship of both him and his wife to Nehru changed the course of
history."

Begum Abida Sultaan who had accompanied her grandmother, Sarkar Amma to
London for a hearing of a succession case filed against her father, had
a schooling of the British ways early in life. According to their law,
it was her cousin who would be vali ahad, and under the Muslim law it
was her father who was entitled.

But Lord Reading refused on the grounds that the ruler of an important
stale like Bhopal could hardly be Hameedullah Khan who had political
links with Nehru, Gandhi and Jinnah. "My father followed them
wholeheartedly, He hadn't dreamt that one day he would be a ruler, until
Sarkar Amma went to the Privy Council and won the case."

Ask her why Bhopal was never at par with cities like Aligarh, Lucknow or
Hyderabad and she informs that Sarkar Amma had founded a number of
schools, Sultania school and Sikandria which was in fact on the palace
premises. Her concern for education she says was second to none, but
that the family itself did not encourage their daughters to attend
school. The boys did not study for the 'simple' reason that their sons
were not destined to be munshis. She puts the blame square on her father
for not taking an active interest in the educational system.

But her own career was remarkable and when she says she enjoyed the
administrative work, you have no reason to doubt it. A note of sarcasm
enters her voice as she says, "Pakistan did not deem it necessary to
seek my services." They appointed her the Ambassador to Brazil. "This
was absolutely against my temperament, I was not a social person. I
wasn't interested in strutting around in a sari. This was not my style."
Finally she sent in her resignation in three months time. A lot of
offers followed to go to Canada, Holland but she spurned them. "They
thought they were bestowing a great favour on me by giving me these
offers," she mocks. She refused to accept a salary for doing no or
little work.

The offers came in till Ayub Khan's time, till she gave in writing that
she had nothing to do with the martial law government. Her voice
suddenly takes on a sing-song tone like a mocking bird, as she announces
"then came Marde-Momin, Mard-e-Haq. I hated his face, I only saw him
once on TV and I ran," she chuckles. She refused the offer of
governorship by Bhutto that was later made to Begum Liaquat, because she
was a staunch Muslim League member and opposed Bhutto on principle, but
she admits "he never called me names, never made a chooha or a billi of
me. He had a great deal of respect for me and was good to me."

So finally you ask her who in the pantheon of Pakistan's leaders does
she have a good word to say about. "I think Liaquat Ali Khan, but I
had not seen much of him so I can't really comment whether he was good
or bad."

But she speaks of the early days when the country was young with
fervour.
"Everything in Pakistan was good. If something that irked was
happening we brushed aside all doubts that all would be well tomorrow.
Now it's new." Those were simple times she says when Siddiq Ali Khan,
Secretary to Liaquat Ali Khan sat under a tree outside Staff House and
typed. She denounces the present crop of politicians as a corrupt lot.
"This is government of the corrupt, by the corrupt, for the corrupt."
"We thought of Pakistan as a big Bhopal," she muses and her face
softens. "Our population was 88 per cent Hindus, yet there were no
riots, no tyranny, no ill-will. We had thought we would apply the same
policies, there would be the same tolerance, administration, the same
fear of God."

She remembers how Sarkar Amma stood up in the darbar at her abdication
and asked for forgiveness from her people, if she had unwittingly caused
some injustice to them.

"We opposed Nehru, Patel, Gandhi but they were honest, noble people. But
the politicians we see and hear about today is a new breed. One couldn't
have imagined about - how could one, there were no examples. Now even in
India you hear about them," she says. She gives her own example and
turns her fingers into claws as she says, "we pounced at corrupt
officials and ate them for breakfast." A good friend of her father lost
his post after siphoning millions by felling sandal trees. A word of
recommendation from her father and she threatened to hand in her
resignation.

Begum Abida Sultaan has begun her autobiography but her failing eyesight
has made her give it up. Her publishers in London are waiting for her to
complete it and so are we.

Making my way home, I am sure I have seen the real thing. They don't
make people like her anymore.

The DAWN Group of Newspapers, 1996
--