‘Extension’

Outside the window of the PM’s Office, the sun was playing with the dew-touched lush greenery. A little further away, the peaks of the green hills of Margalla looked magnificently elegant.

Sitting right in front of the PM Nawaz Sharif, I was about to consult my notes when he said, “Give me this file; I will talk to you after going through it”. Without saying anything, I handed the file to him. The Panama volcano had erupted. I wanted to say something in this regard. On the night of May 18, 2016, when I called for a meeting, the [then] prime minister had said, “Tomorrow I have to go to Gilgit, but if you come sharp at 9am, we may talk for 15-20 minutes.”

On May 19, I arrived five minutes early. Mian Sahib came exactly at 9am, a soft expression on his face. His facial expression was slightly softened. After asking after me, and having his assistant Abid serve coffee, he picked up my cell phone and handed it over to him. Then he took out the wires of two or three colorful phone sets placed on his table, and turned on the TV – the volume slightly louder. I was watching all this in amazement.

Leaving this curious story aside for a while, I am reminded of a slight irony: a word has been playing with my pen for a long time. My pen is very familiar with this word which has occupied our history for the past several years. The word? ‘Extension’.

From the English language, ‘extension’ may just be one of the most widely used words in our daily speech. In Urdu, there is a similar word (‘Tausee’), which is not difficult to pronounce and understand, but it does not have quite the same impact as ‘extension’.

‘Extension’ has a special kind of authority, an arrogance, a certain splendor. When you say ‘extension’, it seems something is being forcefully demanded with great impudence and stubbornness. As though the giver is crowning the ‘crown’ of discretionary authority, bestowing something without lavish magnanimity.

In ‘extension’, the impression one gets is of the helplessness of the giver and the supremacy of the taker – like the giver of the extension considers it his honour and the taker accepts it with a sense of lordliness. As though the giver is modest and chastised in the giving while the taker has gravitas and arrogance in the taking. The beholder of the ‘extension’ though wishes to cherish it till his last breath – never quite ready to give up absolute authority.

In 1971, when Pakistan was divided due to the Ayub-Yahya Doctrine, East Pakistan became Bangladesh. We surrendered to Lt-Gen Jagjit Singh Arora. Thousands of our soldiers became Indian prisoners. Arora retired as a Lt-Gen and was sent home. General Manekshaw, who wore the red flag in India, was conferred with a number of medals. On the recommendation of the government, the president of India promoted him to the rank of field marshal and extended his tenure as army chief by six months. Manekshaw reluctantly accepted the six-month extension saying that he could not disobey the orders of his Supreme Commander.

Unlike India, Pakistan has a tradition of fierce extensions, starting with General Ayub Khan and continuing till the last army chief, General Qamar Javed Bajwa. Ayub Khan, Musa Khan, Ziaul Haq and Pervez Musharraf served as heads of the army for a total of thirty-six (36) years all in all. The tenure of 12 army chiefs was limited to only four individuals by the grace of an ‘extension’.

In 2013, even after six years, the desire of a third ‘extension’ was still there in General Kayani’s heart, but then Nawaz Sharif had become the prime minister – and to him ‘extension’ had never been a welcome word. Gen Raheel Sharif’s attempts remained fruitless, despite multiple efforts. In January 2016, he announced that he did not wish for an extension, but until the last moment he had wanted one. In 2019, the brave leader of the ‘Haqeeqi Azadi’ medaled Gen Qamar Javed Bajwa an extension with pride. Today, the same leader is calling it a big mistake.

When I visited London in October this year, I was under the impression that Nawaz Sharif must be sitting looking at horoscopes for the selection of the new army chief. But in various meetings with Mian Sahib, I found – no, absolutely not. Despite the announcements of retirement, the clamour for another eight months for General Bajwa had been surrounding Avenfield. But this story for some other time.

In the morning of May 19, 2016, Nawaz Sharif was speaking and I was just listening in amazement. More than half an hour had passed. The humble ADC had come and saluted twice. The second round of coffee was coming to an end and Mian Sahib was telling a tale of infidelity. He took a pledge of secrecy from me a few times and said: “I have not told this to anyone except Kulsoom. I know well why the Panama drama has been engineered. After the failure of the 2014 sit-ins, these people are once again using Imran Khan. They want to incite riots. They want to remove me from the scene by putting pressure on the courts. The target is only me. If I continue in office, the conspiracy will go further. It is quite possible that the democratic system is overturned, and the country once again gets stuck in a vortex. I am getting credible reports that their intentions are not right. I think of resigning so that the country is saved from fresh doom.”

Hearing all this from a man of iron nerves, I was stunned. His tone was a bit low. When the ADC reminded him they were getting late, I – worriedly – asked the PM: “What problem do they have with you? Why is all this happening?” Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif got up from his chair, took a few steps to the door, placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered: ‘Extension’.

The writer is a member of the Senate of Pakistan.