During her teaching assignment in Delhi, one of her former classmates wrote to tell her that Liaquat Ali had been elected the vice president of the UP Legislative Council, and that Ra’ana should write and congratulate him. He wrote back to say he was pleased to know she was in Delhi and he often passed through on his way to Karnal from Lucknow, the seat of the UP Legislative Council, and he hoped she would join him for tea at Wenger’s café some day. It was to become the venue for many a meeting between the two which would eventually culminate in matrimony.
Their earlier and very first encounter had been at Lucknow when she was still a student at the university. The students had organized a stage show for flood relief and had decided to sell tickets at the gates of the UP Legislative Council. It was here that she had chanced to bump into him. Their brief encounter had left a lasting impression on both of them. An interesting summation of their evolving relationship was made by Liaquat Ali Khan’s biographer Prof. Ziauddin Ahmad: ‘The stars must have converged at some point for Ms Pant whose lineage was Brahmin and religion was Christianity, but who was now set to embark on the tumultuous voyage of Islam.’5
She was introduced to philanthropy very early in life. When she was young, she would observe her mother engaged in social work in the poor communities of the Kumaon hills. She would often accompany her, and it was during these trips she realized the impact such work could have on the lives of the unfortunate and downtrodden.
Soon after 1934, when Jinnah returned from England to take over the reins of the Muslim League, she was inducted as an economic adviser to the League. At the same time, she also got an opportunity to organize and rally women to not only adopt active political roles but also to become part of social welfare activities. She garnered the support of other leading and influential Muslim women to organize training programmes for these young women in nursing and first aid.
So when she moved to Pakistan in 1947, this prior experience held her in good stead as she was expected to organize large-scale relief camps in the aftermath of a painful and bloody Partition. They faced many problems as all necessary services were non-existent or scarce. As the first lady, she was expected to be at the helm of all the relief and rehabilitation work. It was at this juncture that she decided it was best to systematically organize and mobilize women who would help each other in this hour of need. Many spontaneous and informal women’s organizations came about, and were initially created and established in Lahore. In West Punjab alone, over seven million refugees had poured in over several months, and this was where relief activities and services were needed most urgently.
The hands-on approach and zeal displayed by Ra’ana was underscored by her biographer and lifetime companion Kay Miles, who described her as ‘a woman of substance’ and somebody who could ‘walk the talk’. In her writings, she states, ‘Along with others she took her turn in tending the sick, visiting camps, organizing transport and supplies and driving out in groups in the trucks which nightly toured the city, distributing blankets, clothing and food to those who were unable to reach the main distribution points . . . She reckoned it no indignity to sit for hours on wooden benches along with other supplicants, outside offices, from which urgently needed supplies were needed for the refugees . . . All she knew was that people needed her help and she gave it, unstintingly and without reservation.’6
She further adds that ‘in the cause of suffering humanity all around her she had left her own home and two young and often sick children in Karachi, to devote her full-time energy to those less privileged and those in far greater need than her own’. Kay Miles was herself divided and torn between her duty to be at Ra’ana’s side and her desire to provide personal attention to the two young boys who were admitted to school in Karachi.
The relief work entailed seeing to basic needs such as tents, clothing, food and medicines. Epidemics of cholera and typhoid had broken out and necessary medications were in short supply. The few medical centres that existed were grossly understaffed and overcrowded. It was this situation that led her to her second major initiative—the creation of a new cadre of trained nurses. It was a challenge, as in those days nursing was viewed as an unworthy profession, and young girls from middle-class Muslim families were not encouraged to take it up.
But she managed to convince hundreds of young educated Muslim girls. She invited qualified foreign nurses to train the young girls and also sent the trainees abroad. Within a span of two years, people started viewing the nursing profession differently and also started accepting it as a career option for young girls from middle-class Muslim families. She also provided guidance and encouraged the setting up of the first Pakistan Nurses Federation. Many of these nurses joined the forces when the Army Medical Corp (AMC) was founded.
However, she encountered criticism from the religious clergy for ‘leading Muslim women astray’ as also from certain segments of the right-wing press and media. During these trying times, it was her husband, Liaquat Ali Khan, who defended her. At a public rally he declared openly and unabashedly, ‘Where has my wife taken the people of Pakistan to? To the dance halls? No, she has taken them to work in refugee camps! Where has my wife led the women of Pakistan to? To gambling dens? No! It is to the hospitals to work as nurses.’7
The Pakistan Women’s National Guard (PWNG) and Pakistan Women’s Naval Reserve (PWNR) were also formed at her behest, but this too met with opposition from certain quarters. The PWNG came under the army whereas the PWNR was attached to the navy. Ra’ana was appointed the chief controller by the Armed Forces of Pakistan for both organizations, with the rank of a brigadier.
The PWNG was divided into three battalions consisting of 2400 volunteers spread in different parts of the country. The idea of training and organizing women to become a formal part of the military was certainly ‘revolutionary for the times’.8 According to Shireen Burki, in her essay ‘The Status of Pakistani Women: The Early Years 1948-1958’, it was Begum Ra’ana who had believed that ‘it was our duty to work towards the defence, development and betterment of the country and this was not the time for 40 million women of Pakistan to sit quietly in their homes’. The main idea was to train young girls in defence methods and physical fitness. They had to undergo training in parade and foot drills as well as civil defence combat training. They were also taught basic first aid and elementary nursing. Additionally, they were taught typing and army signalling. The young girls showed great enthusiasm in spite of family pressure to stay home. These two organizations ceased to exist soon after Ra’ana left for the Netherlands in 1954. ‘That these controversial military organizations managed to survive for six years and were disbanded only after their powerful mentor and advocate had left the country, was a testimony to the Begum’s sheer force of personality.’9
As early as 1948, she had also begun to envisage and plan the creation of the first-ever handicrafts and cottage industry. She understood how important economic empowerment was for ensuring a better standard of living for women and their families, thanks to her academic grounding in economics and her own financial independence as a young woman.
She believed that the revival of local arts and crafts, which also included imparting training, would ensure gainful employment for millions of women in villages and displaced and unemployed refugee men and women in cities. With her visionary leadership skills, she garnered the support of leading and influential volunteers to coordinate and carry out the establishment of a large network of local and small-scale cottage industries in both rural and urban areas.
She organized the first crafts and products bazaar at her own official residence on Victoria Road. The dedicated women volunteers worked tirelessly under her guidance, and within a few months, they were able to set up a proper cottage emporium at Illaco House, Victoria Road, Karachi. These efforts led to the accumulation of enough profits so they were able to open schools for refugee children and a small tuberculosis hospital, which was a major problem at the time.
She also succeeded in bringing to fruition o
ne of her cherished dreams, that of setting up a full-fledged craftsmen’s residential colony. This colony was able to provide a decent living environment for thousands of families who had been living in camps with no proper roof over their heads. The craftsmen and their families were now able to carry out their work in a clean and stable living atmosphere. With the help of the Government of Pakistan and of Karachi’s generous philanthropists, the Iqbal Malik Hospital was also established within the colony.
Ra’ana and her group soon realized that the need of the hour was a bigger organization through which underprivileged women and the thousands of destitute and unemployed refugees could earn regular incomes. With the help of her friends and other volunteers, a large and professional centre was established. It was named Gul-i-Ra’ana Industrial Home and was set up in a densely populated area of Karachi. It was with setting up of this industrial home that women were for the first time given the opportunity to earn full-time wages. To make them feel a part of the enterprise, they were also given yearly bonuses from the profits of the sales.
A school was set up within the premises for the children of the women employees. An adult literacy programme was also started for the workers and this was met with a lot of enthusiasm. Ra’ana had always held the view that ‘it is not only the material aspects of a better standard of living but the sense of confidence, dignity, security and hope that constitute the soil on which we can ever hope to sow the seeds of good citizenship profitably’.10
Her entire life was now devoted to those impoverished families who had been uprooted and had to start their lives all over again after migrating to Pakistan. In the face of this, her own family and personal life or accumulation of property and assets were to remain lowest on her list of priorities. She had no assets or property in her own name when she arrived in Pakistan. This was to be the case throughout her life, and she didn’t own any property even at the time of her death. Her husband had generously donated the palatial residence they called home in Delhi for fifteen years as the future residence of the Pakistani ambassador in India. He had gifted it to her at the time of their marriage and had even renamed it Gul-i-Ra’ana after her. When it was time to leave, he sought her permission for it to be donated to the Government of Pakistan. She did not hesitate even a moment and gave her wholehearted approval. She left everything as it was in the house, and carried only a suitcase full of personal items and clothes.
Liaquat Ali Khan had set the standards of austerity for his family and she had little choice but to follow the style of living adopted by him. He had been approached by some Evacuee Trust officials soon after he took over as the prime minister upon his return to Karachi. They requested him to file compensation claims against the huge ancestral agricultural properties that the family had owned in Karnal, India. He furiously retorted that they should come to him once they had settled all the Muslim refugees who had also left everything behind and then perhaps it might rightfully be his turn. Begum Ra’ana herself once attempted to convey to him that they must perhaps think about their sons and do something for their future. The answer she received was, ‘Pakistan is there, what more do we need to do for them.’
An incident related by Pat, the elder son Ashraf’s wife, about her husband’s school years shows the simplicity and austerity the family always strictly adhered to. He had been sent to study at the snobbish Chiefs’ (Aitchison) College, Lahore, where only the sons of tribal chiefs and nawabs were admitted. On his first leave home, he told his father that he felt embarrassed as all his classmates had a personal servant from home to take care of their needs, and he had nobody. To which his father retorted, ‘Then come back home and study here as we have enough servants here’, and thus he was withdrawn from Chiefs’ College and had to join a school in Karachi.
A close family friend in those early days, Jamsheed Marker, described some of the special traits of Liaquat Ali Khan in his memoirs, which are summed up in the following words: ‘Nawabzada Liaquat Ali Khan, whose descent and background were steeped in nobility, carried them in his person, and he had no need of extraneous trappings.’11 ‘Though a Nawabzada,’ Jinnah added in a prescient assessment of Liaquat, ‘he was a thorough proletarian.’12 ‘Born and bred in the luxury of ancestral nobility, Liaquat died a virtual pauper.’13
Both Ra’ana and Liaquat Ali were the exemplary first couple that any country would have loved to have as leaders and that too at a time when their selfless service was most needed. The birth of Pakistan had brought in its wake innumerable problems, some of them seemingly insurmountable, but this did not deter either of them and they remained steadfast in their mission. Nehru’s India had inherited a fully functioning government with all paraphernalia in place, including grand buildings and seasoned staff. On the other hand, Pakistan didn’t even have trained staff, buildings and basic office equipment. They had to set about creating an administrative machinery from scratch. The banking and business infrastructure had also collapsed as it had mostly been in the hands of Hindus who had migrated to India in 1947.
That this partnership of two highly devoted and talented leaders that Pakistan had inherited at the time of its birth was to last for a very limited time span was something no one had even considered. But fate had other plans, and Ra’ana Liaquat Ali Khan was to be left all by herself to continue and fulfil the mission for both of them.
2
October 1951: The Assassination of a Prime Minister
‘God gives and God takes, but God’s work of service must go on. In the interest of that service, which must rise above all personal considerations and even grief, however great, I take this opportunity of formally declaring open the Seventh Day Adventist Hospital of Karachi.’1
This was her message which was broadcast on the radio on 17 October 1951. Just one day earlier, her beloved husband, Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan, had been tragically shot dead by an assassin’s bullet. She did not cancel this prior commitment altogether, but decided to inaugurate the missionary hospital via a recorded radio broadcast.
This personal tragedy had come suddenly and left her with many incomplete tasks. She now had to pave her way forward as the widow rather than the wife of the prime minister. She was also left with the responsibility of bringing up her two sons.
The additional burden she had to cope with was her precarious financial situation. As mentioned earlier, Liaquat Ali had given up his properties in India and had sought no compensation for them.
After taking over as the prime minister of an impoverished Pakistan, Liaquat Ali decided it was best to follow a simple lifestyle in keeping with the depressed economic state of the country. He chose the simplest of the government accommodation available and allocated to himself the most meagre of official salaries, which was barely sufficient to meet the needs of his family. He even chose a less expensive school for his boys so that he could afford to pay the requisite fees. One of his close friends confirmed that he did not leave behind personal property for his family. His bank account contained a balance so low that it was not sufficient to sustain his family beyond one month.
Another close friend, Yusuf Haroon, remembering the early days of his life in Pakistan, recounts, ‘For those who had known him for many years . . . it was a source of perpetual amazement how this man . . . increasingly sacrificed his comfort, time and money for the Muslim League and for the establishment of Pakistan . . . he reduced his personal needs to purely Islamic simplicity. Marble halls, spacious rooms and banquets gave place to an old, dilapidated and inconvenient residence, in which his dressing room was the corner of the verandah, screened off by his own cupboards . . . Once I saw him sitting in his draughty dressing room shaving and warned him of catching a cold . . . His carefree reply, which was so characteristic of him, was, “Thank God at least I have a roof over my head. Think of those thousands who don’t even have that.”’2 It was a well-known fact that at the time of his death those who saw his body sadly recounted that the socks he was wearing were threadbare and faded. Such was h
is simplicity and honesty.
At a public gathering in Karachi on 14 August 1951 on the occasion of Pakistan’s Independence Day, he said: ‘I do not have riches, I do not own property and I am happy that I do not have these, because these things weaken one’s faith. I have only my life with me and that I have dedicated to Pakistan. What can I give them except this—that if, for the defence of Pakistan and its name, the nation has to shed blood, Liaquat’s blood shall be mingled with it.’3. This was just a few months before his tragic assassination in Rawalpindi in October 1951.
Those were the kind of words she remembered and they kept her awake to the realization that she must remain unswervingly dedicated to the cause they had both struggled for together. Both her sons were still too young to lend any kind of support to her. Ashraf, the older one, born in 1937, was just fourteen, and her younger son, Akber, born in 1941, was barely eleven. Did she at this time question her decision to leave her country, her family and her religion, in order to fulfil her obligations as the wife of a ‘man with a mission’? Or did she ever consider taking her two sons and returning home to her own rather large and extended family? She had now become fully dependent on whatever the Government of Pakistan provided her in the way of material and financial support. Having a proud and upright personality, it might have indeed been challenging to reconcile with such dependency. But historical and biographical records provide little or no evidence of any such inner struggle. There had, however, been some misunderstanding between the founder of Pakistan and his prime minister which might have cast shadows of doubt in her mind but these too were swept away in the face of her resolve to devote herself to Pakistan.
Jinnah and Liaquat Ali had always enjoyed very close relations, both personally and professionally. Jinnah held him in great trust and had appointed him as the secretary general of All India Muslim League (AIML) in 1936. He had publicly declared him as ‘My Right Hand’ as early as 1942–43. In 1947, soon after the formation of Pakistan, Liaquat Ali was chosen personally by Jinnah to be the very first prime minister of Pakistan. A lesser-known fact that reinforces the view of their closeness was revealed by his biographer, Prof. Ziauddin: ‘In his last will made in May 1939, he made Fatima Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan the two trustees of his estate. Up until his death, for nine eventful and epoch-making years . . . this will symbolized the unstinted trust the Quaid-e-Azam reposed in his closest lieutenant, Shaheed-e-Millat Liaquat Ali Khan.’4
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