They die with dignity

They die with dignity



By Amar Jaleel

One of the ways to tarnish a hero’s image is to paint a pathetic picture of his final moments before death

THE depth of heroic life of a legend is revealed at the time of his passing away from this world. The parting moments in which one embarks upon the inevitable journey towards an unknown destination finally unfolds the mythical manner in which a life was lived. Fear of death bears no meaning for him. He feels calm from within, and dies peacefully. Dying at the gallows or facing a firing squad doesn’t deter a brave person from accepting an honourable death. It is in the manner in which one dies that he lives for ever.

Of all the mortal men, the wisest among the wise, Socrates embraced death in a dignified way. For his criticism of the sophists, and the Athenian political and religious institutions, Socrates was tried, and was sentenced to death. While rejecting the persuasion of his ardent students who insisted upon taking him away from the death cell, the wise among the wisest argued, “Is there a locale on the earth where man is not overpowered by death?”

Running away impairs the cause one stands for. Dying for it upholds the cause. Socrates stayed calm in his death cell. He answered the parting questions from his dismayed students. A bowl of hemlock was brought to him by his adversaries. He sipped poison from the bowl, and kept strolling within the confines of the cell. The deadly poison worked through his veins. His eyesight blurred, but he kept walking with his faltering steps. Finally he felt dizzy and collapsed, and passed away peacefully.

One of the celebrated writers of post-war Japan, Yukio Mishima had lived a life obsessed with indomitable desire to confront death with dignity. He is quoted to have said: “I have discovered that the way of a Samurai is death.” He proceeded with his obsession, and is reported to have said: “In order to be a perfect Samurai, it is necessary to prepare oneself for death morning and evening, day in and day out.” In 1970, Mishima terminated his life in a ritual suicide.

Rarely a mortal condemned to die at the gallows was seen as well composed, and calm as Pir Sibghatullah, Pir Pagaro was seen a few hours before his death. After Tahajud prayers, he played chess with a jail official with utmost concentration. Half an hour before his departure for the gallows, he took a bath, and put on new clothes. He looked serene and peaceful. On his way to the gallows, Pir Pagaro refused to be supported by the prison staff. With sturdy steps he walked up to the gallows. Like all committed men he died with dignity.

The split verdict of the seven judges in the trial of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and his execution shall remain an ever alive topic for debate and discussion. There are many ways to tarnish the image of a hero. One clandestine way is to paint a pathetic picture of a person’s final moments before his death. There are countless people in Pakistan for whom Zulfikar Ali Bhutto is a hero. Many of them believe, ZAB was killed before he was hanged. Some of them maintain that a few hours before his death, he was seen calm and well composed.

The myth surrounding the execution of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto shall always remain an enigma. For some he will remain a hero, and for others a villain. Some would enhance and others would tarnish his image. In his book, (I do not remember the title), General K M Arif has painted the most miserable picture of the last few hours of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto before he was hanged. It is a brilliant piece of writing, in which, without being obvious, he has distorted the image of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto as a hero for his admirers.

According to the retired general, Bhutto had become panicky. At times he became hysterical. He wept in the arms of his Mushqati (attendant). He tried to write, but couldn’t. He wiped the floor of his death cell. Little before his departure for the gallows, Bhutto became pale and started trembling. He sank to the floor and almost fainted because of the fear of death. He was not able to move a limb when jail officials came to escort him to the gallows. He was therefore carried to the gallows.

The Quid-i-Azam knew that the time for his eternal journey was closing in. The malignant consumption had taken its toll. He turned down the advice of his doctors and kept on writing. With every passing moment he became more alert than ever before. There kindled unusual spark in his eyes.

On September 11, 1948, at 9.50pm, the flow of blood in his veins collapsed. His doctor leaned over and whispered to him (I quote from the book, Jinnah by Hector Bolitho), and said: “Sir, we have given you an injection to strengthen you, and it will soon have its effect. God willing, you are going to live.”

The Quid-i-Azam moved his head and spoke for the last time. He said firmly, “No, I am not.”

Soon thereafter, he left for eternity.