When Pakistanis whispered: ‘end military rule’ — A Moscow memoir

During the recent anti-terror operation inside Pakistan by the Government of India, called Operation Sindoor — a name some feminists consider patently patriarchal, even though it’s officially described as a tribute to the wives of the 26 husbands killed in the terrorist strike — I was reminded of my Moscow stint, which lasted for seven long years, from 1986 to 1993.

As the now-defunct, pro-Soviet, semi-left representative of the daily Patriot and Link Newsweekly in Moscow, I had the chance to interact with foreign correspondents at Moscow's Press Centre of the Soviet Foreign Affairs Ministry. One of them was Shah Nawaz, who represented the Pakistani daily The Muslim, which collapsed in the late 1990s.

Shah, as I used to call him, had married a Russian girl, had two lovely children, and had settled in Moscow. Despite being a Muslim correspondent, he also did some business on the side to earn extra bucks — importing leather jackets from Pakistan and selling them in Russia.

Soon, we became friends — and he would often visit our house, situated not far from the Kremlin, with his family. His children would play with mine. Shah would often tell my wife Shruti, “Bhabhi, roti khane aya hoon...” Indeed, it was all Russian food at his home. He rarely saw a chapati. His wife also liked chapatis and would wonder how they were made.

During our interactions, we often discussed Indo-Pak relations. I would frankly share my view — that Pakistan was founded on a negative ideology, built on anti-India sentiment, which its ruling elite used to maintain their grip on power. The day this sentiment faded, I said, the country would collapse like a house of cards — which is one reason why it isn’t interested in resolving the Kashmir issue.

I would cite the example of their national language, Urdu. It is the language of Delhi and Meerut — of the Muhajirs who migrated to Pakistan during Partition. Pakistan had several regional languages — Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, and Balochi — and those who spoke them often didn’t see eye to eye. Such was the level of inter-ethnic conflict in the country.

I would quote what Urdu poet Firaq Gorakhpuri once said to Faiz Ahmed Faiz, an ethnic Punjabi and a towering Urdu poet from Pakistan. At a mushaira in India, when both were on stage, Firaq told Faiz, “If you don’t mind, Faiz saheb, I would like to say this: when a Punjabi speaks in Urdu, it seems he is a liar.”

Shah would not only agree with me but would also say that the country was controlled by a powerful elite of feudal lords and military barons, who dominated politics to the detriment of democratic forces. While I had never seen his daily, he would tell me it was an independent paper — something the rulers didn’t like. He mentioned prominent journalists associated with it, such as Mushahid Hussain and Maleeha Lodhi (who later became Pakistan’s ambassador to the US and the UN).

Once, while we were sipping coffee in the Press Centre’s Coffee House, a man in formal attire walked in. Shah welcomed him warmly. He was a senior official in the Pakistani Embassy in Moscow. It was the first time I was meeting a Pakistani diplomat, so I thought of discussing with him the issues Shah and I often talked about.

When I asked the diplomat whether he thought Pakistan’s very existence was based on a negative foundation, Shah quickly jumped in to say the question itself was wrong — that Pakistan was a united country and there was no disunity. After nearly half an hour, the diplomat left. Shah turned to me: “Oh dear! You could have landed me in trouble. You don’t know Pakistan. If I had supported your view, this man would have reported me to higher-ups. I could have been barred from re-entering the country.”

Ever since I left Moscow in 1993, I have had no contact with Shah. I was reminded of him while talking recently with one of Delhi’s top journalists, now in his mid-70s. As we discussed the latest Indo-Pak conflict, he told me that during his trips abroad — including the UK — he would often meet Pakistani politicians, intellectuals, even officials.

“Ever since Indira Gandhi’s days, many of them insisted India should do something to end military control in Pakistan. If they wanted Indira Gandhi to win polls, they also wished Atal Behari Vajpayee to take a firm stand. They used to tell me how tired people were of Pakistan’s rulers and wanted to get rid of them. They specifically said it was the Pakistani military that exported terrorism to India, and asked me to convey their views to Indian authorities,” said this journalist, who is a keen Pakistan watcher.

When I asked him whether things had changed, this journalist — who has worked with several major news outlets, including two dailies where I worked, Patriot and The Times of India, and now writes analytical commentary for some of the best-known online news portals — told me there’s little reason to believe they have. “I’ve seen videos where Pakistanis seemed to welcome India’s Operation Sindoor, hoping it would weaken the army’s grip over the country’s politics.”