SINDH FUNERAL & SINDH FESTIVAL 2014

By Dr Agha Inamullah

Sunday March 9^th 2014

For many Sindhis it was spectacular presentation; the shimmering lights that lit up the thousand years old civilization at Moen Jo Daro; a five thousand years old civilization excavated back in 1920, by Sir John Marshal, alongside of Mighty Indus near Larkana; the home town of the brave ZA Bhutto, whose grandchildren hosted their first show to inaugurate Sindh Festival to promote Sindhi Culture around the globe only few weeks ago. They were seen wearing T shirts with Sindhi logos to show their love for Sindh, and the people of Sindh and its heritage and hosting such grand show costed about 5 billion Rupees, amazing.

I dreamt of Benazir last night. She was teaching Bilawal; legacy of her father Zulifqar Ali Bhutto. She had a black file in her hand that was titled as 'Roti Kapra aur Makan'(Food Clothes and Shelter) ; obviously for poor streaming millions of this country. Bilawal was busy sorting outing bills, the amount paid to artists, expenses of setting stages in various towns, the fuel charges to take donkey carts and donkeys to race ground, fuel charges for VIP guests blab blab. Each bill was titled with a popular Sindhi slogan ' Mersoun Mersoun Sindh na Desoun' ( I will die but will never give you Sindh), a popular historical slogan by a Sindhi General Hosh Muhammad Shedi who gave his life to save his mother land Sindh, fighting at battle field of Miani.

 BB asked Bilawal as to where did he get all the money from for these events, ' you didn't use the Swiss accounts again darling, daddy will be furious son, he never even let me know of them until we were charged. I bet you didn't pull Shah's neck. He does not have much left either you know; until new budget in June. Sharifs will not give us anything. 'Oh mommy', Bilawal replied, 'there is hell lot more than I have spent, or you could possibly imagine''. Suddenly it faded out to new image like in movies, I saw her weeping, and throwing stones at her Shrine in Garhi Khuda Bux, devastated, agitated, like a mad woman, by now my chest was heaping and I was all wet in my own sweat as out of suffocation my eyes opened, there was absolute silence and crickets creaking, pitch black night, except the lights which flickered from my internet broad band modem`on the side table of my bed; and I realized it was only a dream. I read few verses from Koran to bless her soul, and cried few tears, when all of sudden the hide and seek between sleep and wake began, I was hallucinated again hearing echoes of bare feet naked, starved million children running from Mithi to Nagarparker and from Kasbu Temple to Karoonjhar mountain at Bhodesar, chanting G A Bhutto (long live Bhuttos), but this time they were throwing stones aimless stones, sometimes towards sky and sometimes at each other. I could not understand their agitation, what was it about! Who were they agitating against! and what were their demands! Suddenly I got back to my conscious when clock began to beep. Oh no! I forgot its Sunday; wife forgot again to turn off the Alarm. Followed by the sound of an old Honda motorcycle roaring with leaking muffler drove pass my house as I heard the thump of newspaper thrown that hit the car roof in the porch. I climbed downstairs to check on paper. Oh my god it was not just a dream, I did meet her spirit, the paper read:

'Drought in Thar kills more, death toll reached to 125, 40 more admitted to hospitals, the Sindh government refused to accept help from Center after already refusing help offered by Punjab Government.'

I tried to calm myself down,'No worries; Bilawal is there, Bakhtawar is there, and they will arrange another show to raise funds to buy Sindhi Ajraks for your Mass funerals. We witnessed Sindh Festival, just wait for another grand musical event to promote our culture at international levels 'The Sindh Funeral'.