“…But say all we done is show the world that democracy isn’t chaos. That there is a great, invisible strength in a people’s union. Say we’ve shown that a people can endure awful sacrifice and yet cohere. Mightn’t that save at least the idea of democracy to aspire to? Eventually to become worthy of?” As I watched, mesmerised, Daniel Day-Lewis as Abraham Lincoln, one of the greatest rulers in the history of the world, in Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece Lincoln, the pain in his voice, eyes anguished, simply reiterated the power of his simple words. At that moment, with unshed tears blocking my vision, goose-bumpy, I could only think of one person. And her struggle. Today, as I pray for her on her birth anniversary, I wish to thank her for the gift she gave Pakistan (with the help of the innumerable). A democratic process we can all be rightly proud of. Rest in peace, BB. Thank you for all you did for the supremacy of democracy without which our Pakistan floundered for many a decade. Benazir Bhutto. Her name is alive. Her picture still adorns many a wall, many a heart. Her speeches are heard and revered, bringing a lump in the throat of all those who still struggle with the fact of her absence. Her memory still sparkles in the hearts of those who saw her relaxed in private, with the few she considered friends. Her love is missed by her children who feel her sudden, brutal exit from their lives every day, hoping to do her memory justice, replicating her principles in their actions. Her party gropes its way, clinging to all she said that fateful day in December 2007, deciphering guidelines. The children, the PPP, many people in general, all miss her, and she remains one of those whose image becomes brighter, her name more prominent, her absence more noteworthy with time. Today, June 21, 2013 would have her been her 60th birthday, and as I say a prayer for her, I am pained. Even in death, BB, you are more alive than many who wish to see your name entombed with you in that mausoleum in Garhi Khuda Baksh. But reality is different from assumptions and fantasies. You stand tall, as only you could, even in death. And I remember you, like I do on all June 21s, and on many other days. PPP is synonymous with the name Bhutto. That is its biggest strength. And that, unfortunately, became its Achilles’ heel, forcing its advancement to stutter, to routing of its power in Punjab, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan, leaving only the old faithful Sindh still standing with it. PPP lost its guide with Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. With BB they lost their guiding light. Reams can be said about PPP’s three erroneous tenures, with and without her. Not my place, not my expertise, not something I would do here. All I have are snippets of comments from people close to BB when I asked them to say a bit about Benazir Bhutto the person, the PPP leader, daughter, sister, mother. All spoke very simply, in pain, with no fancy words, all words echoing with one basic theme: how deeply loved and respected Benazir Bhutto was in her personal life. How the many she touched with a kind look, a warm hug, words of consolation, sympathetic tears, humble but 500-watt smiles, laughter, advice, remember her today. “I knew her in distress, in her fight against a dictator, in jail, in power, in opposition. I knew her when she chaired the party, and I was her deputy, she was the PM, I her cabinet minister, then she the PM again and I the Speaker. I was standing on her right when the bomb tore through her welcome rally on October 18, 2007, in Karachi, killing139 of the PPP’s supporters. BB was not just my leader, she was my guide. Through international diplomacy she managed to convince General Pervez Musharraf to doff his uniform, and it was partly her concerted efforts that brought Nawaz Sharif back to Pakistan. Rejecting the traditional political games of vengeance, she was instrumental in chalking out the Charter of Democracy with other parties. Hardworking, polite, the visionary woman believed in being humane to all those who toiled for Pakistan. On her visits to workers’ homes, she heard their grievances, and never made them feel alienated from the PPP. Hers and other leaders’ tribulations, incarcerations along with the workers, reiterated that PPP was one party whose leaders suffered with the people. Courageous, consistent, patient, focused…that is what BB was for as long as I knew her…as a person, as a leader.” Thus reminisced former Prime Minister Yousaf Raza Gillani when I asked him to share a few thoughts about BB. Mother of Bilawal, Bakhtawar and Aseefa, BB became a living example of how motherhood was not an impediment to becoming the most famous woman in the history of Pakistan. From her first election campaign when she was pregnant with Bilawal to raising her children alone in Dubai (her husband Asif Zardari was incarcerated in Pakistan), her devotion to her children and how they turned out was one of those things that made her a perfect mother. Supervising their studies, inculcating in them values of humility, empathy, kindness, patience, and living like normal people, she ensured — and anyone who knows the three Zardari-Bhutto children will vouch for that — that they were well-behaved, down to earth, without the least indication of their family name giving then undue importance in their normal existence. Daughter of veteran PPP politician, the late, much admired Iqbal Haider, Alizeh Haider, PPP MNA, emailed a few thoughts to me of what she remembered about BB: “I remember when Bilawal was born at Lady Duffrin Hospital; we went to visit BB with Abbu. The day after Bilawal’s birth. I remember a stack of files being brought into her room. Next day, I remember Abbu commenting on what an incredible woman BB is and how he has yet to come across someone as hardworking as her. By next day early morning, she had gone through all the files and had handwritten copious notes of instructions on each (many of which came to Abbu). She had a way of making people feel important by taking personal interest in their lives. Hers was a very human connection. It was not just a work-relationship. I have seen her cry for people…She was such a soft soul.” In BB we lost one of Pakistan’s best. We feel her absence as a leader, as a person, every day since she died. This is how all PPP leaders, workers, her friends remember her. As one of them reminisced about how real she was as a person, with no frills about her demeanour announcing her family legacy and her international stature as a politician. How she remembered to meet even her distant relatives on her visits to the US. How she took cabs to visit her friends. How she never cared about ‘brands’ and loved to shop retail. How her sense of humour was always sharp, and her easy laughter rang loud when she was amidst friends. How she waited in line for a table at a Washington restaurant, even as the maitre’d rushed to arrange a table, conscious of her stature known to many in Washington. Unlike most political leaders, BB was someone who bore no grudges, forgave all who wronged her, and despite being a victim of relentless attacks (justified or otherwise is a separate matter), none could accuse her of political victimisation of anyone. As per a veteran journalist, BB was without a vicious bone in her body, she was one leader who forgave her enemies, and all were treated fairly. Her interaction with her workers is the stuff of legends. Once she broke down reading a critical review of her brother, Mir Murtaza Bhutto’s life, in some paper. His killing shattered her, as she was still trying to come to terms with the murders of her father, Mr Bhutto in 1979, and brother Mir Shahnawaz in 1985. “Two stitches could have saved his life,” she lamented about his death, and how traumatising it was for her as a sister, and as the PM of Pakistan that September 1996 day in Karachi. I remember her struggle against General Zia in the 1980s, the blood on her mother, Begum Nusrat Bhutto’ s face, co-chairperson of PPP. I remember the lashings, beatings, jailing of hundreds of PPP and MRD supporters. I remember her imprisonment, and her suffering. I remember her exile. I remember her triumphant return to Pakistan on April 10, 1986. I remember her swearing-in as the youngest premier of Pakistan, the first Muslim woman premier anywhere, on December 2, 1988. I remember her second oath on October 19, 1993. I remember her self-imposed exile in 1997. I remember her return on October 18, 2007. I remember the look on her face after her welcome rally was bombed that day. I remember her in the blue jora (suit) on December 27, 2007, the day she was to be seen for the last time. I remember the tears in her eyes when she spoke about the past and the future. I remember how she waved to people from the roof of her SUV, displaying in that last minute, that last smile of her life how brave she was, how she was for the people always. Rest in peace, Benazir Bhutto… I will remember you. Always… The writer is an Assistant Editor at Daily Times. She tweets at @MehrTarar and can be reached at mehrt2000@gmail.com