Burden of history: an eyewitness account
18 later as we stare into yet another abyss, can we all at least make new mistakes instead of repeating the old ones?
Army men climb over the main gate of PTV HQ in Islamabad during the military coup of 1999. PHOTO: REUTERS
History is a great teacher for those willing to learn. Eighteen years ago, I was witness to history as it unfolded. The date: October 12, 1999. Venue: PTV Centre in Islamabad. Here’s what I experienced:
The pleasant October afternoon is grudgingly bidding adieu to the day. I am sitting in a ground floor office whose windows overlook the main gate of the Centre and the driveway that snakes into the porch. The TV in the corner of the room suddenly flashes news that makes me sit up and crank up the volume. A sombre looking announcer says Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif has replaced the Chief of the Army Staff, General Pervez Musharraf, and appointed Lt Gen Ziauddin Butt as the new COAS. The screen is then filled with a visual in which PM Sharif is pinning the new rank on the shoulders of Lt Gen Butt.
I sit there stunned. How? Why? What now?
This shocking development is now being constantly repeated on the PTV screen (this was before the advent of private news channels). I walk out of the office and into the strangely quiet corridors. A lull before the storm? Soon thereafter I hear the sounds of some commotion outside. Daylight still hangs around like an insistent visitor so as I walk briskly into the office and peer outside. I can clearly see about two dozen armed soldiers rushing through the gate into the driveway. They pass by my window and hurtle towards the main entrance. Instinctively, I walk back into the corridor to see what is going on.
This corridor leads straight into the entrance lobby of the PTV Centre. From this lobby a flight of stairs ascends to the first floor which houses the main news studio from which all PTV bulletins are conducted. The newsroom, Production Control Room (PCR), as well as offices of the senior news managers, are located on this floor (or at least this was the geography of the building in 1999). To get to the main studio, you have to climb up the stairs, turn right and then again turn left into a long corridor. The studio is situated at the end of this corridor.
As I walk into the lobby, I see soldiers racing up the stairs. Two of them stand in front of the stairs brandishing their automatic weapons. I try to go up the stairs but am firmly stopped by the two guards. I can hear the sounds of the commotion upstairs but since my way is blocked, I have little choice but to turn and walk back again to the office. Inside, another shocker awaits me: the PTV screen has gone black. Is the channel off air?
The situation is now unfolding rapidly. Outside on the driveway shouting again breaks out. I rush to the window to see jeeps swerving on to the driveway and screeching to a halt near the main door. Out jump twenty odd policemen. From another vehicle emerge a dozen or so armed men in shalwar kameez and joggers. I recognise the bulky man. He is called ‘Haji’ and he is PM Sharif’s personal bodyguard. So a combined force of the local police and the prime minister’s personal guards has reached the PTV Centre led by…?
Yes, I can see their leader clearly from my vantage point. He is dressed in the khaki uniform and wears the rank of a brigadier. I know him. He is the military secretary to the PM and he is holding a pistol in his hand.
The group runs towards the entrance and out of my view. I swivel back into the corridor rush towards the lobby and stop dead in my tracks. In front of my eyes the cops and bodyguards have surrounded the two soldiers who had stopped me from going upstairs a few minutes ago. I can hear shouts and threats amidst pushing and shoving. The soldiers are completely outnumbered. The cops snatch their weapons and drag them into another room. Now a few cops are posted on the stairs while the brigadier leads the rest upstairs.
I trace my steps back towards the office but instead of going in, walk till the end of the corridor and open the door that leads to a back staircase. It is unguarded. I climb up to the first floor and walk into the corridor that links to the technical area. It’s not hard to figure out where everyone is. I just follow the noise. The passageway turns left and leads into the entrance of the studio. I emerge into the centre of the corridor and straight into the middle of a situation I hope I never witness again.
I look left and at the end of the corridor are a dozen or so soldiers aiming their guns straight in my direction. One of them is lying on the floor with a tripod mounted machine gun. I look right and the cops and bodyguards are aiming straight at the soldiers. I find myself in the unenviable position of being in the middle of these two opposing forces inside a twenty feet long corridor. So I step back outside the line of fire. I can see the soldiers are led by a major who stands in front of his troops. Facing him is the brigadier who is shouting at him: “Lower your weapon. Stand down. Stand down”.
It is a hair-trigger situation. The shouting is getting deafening and automatic weapons are pointed at each other. This continues for what seems to me like an eternity before suddenly the major makes a decision. He lowers his gun and orders his men to do the same. The brigadier orders: “Take their weapons”. The cops and the personal bodyguards disarm the soldiers and push them into a room and lock them inside.
I see the brigadier snap open his cell phone and speak animatedly. Shortly PTV comes back on air. The policemen have now taken control of the building. I walk into the first floor office of a news manager where I am joined by some other senior government officials who have arrived at the scene. Evening has finally descended and as I look out of the window I can see a crowd gathering outside the fenced perimeter of the building. Foreign channels have apparently run news about something happening inside the PTV Centre.
Before the hour is over, events take yet another turn. I can see a line of army trucks approaching the gate. They stop outside the sealed main gate and scores of troops leap out of them. They scramble up the gate and rush in. There’s a scramble outside and more shouting. As I step out of the room, the soldiers coming running up the same stairs and rush towards the studio area. Yet another stand-off begins between the fresh contingent and the police/bodyguards. This time the troops converge on to them with overwhelming force and within minutes the police and the personal bodyguards lay down their weapons in the halls of PTV Centre.
That fateful day who did what and why is now a part of history. The debate over who drew first blood continues till date and may carry as long as we do not have a broad consensus on the fundamentals of governance.
But eighteen years later as we stare into yet another abyss, can we all at least make new mistakes instead of repeating the old ones?
Published in The Express Tribune, October 8th, 2017.
The pleasant October afternoon is grudgingly bidding adieu to the day. I am sitting in a ground floor office whose windows overlook the main gate of the Centre and the driveway that snakes into the porch. The TV in the corner of the room suddenly flashes news that makes me sit up and crank up the volume. A sombre looking announcer says Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif has replaced the Chief of the Army Staff, General Pervez Musharraf, and appointed Lt Gen Ziauddin Butt as the new COAS. The screen is then filled with a visual in which PM Sharif is pinning the new rank on the shoulders of Lt Gen Butt.
I sit there stunned. How? Why? What now?
This shocking development is now being constantly repeated on the PTV screen (this was before the advent of private news channels). I walk out of the office and into the strangely quiet corridors. A lull before the storm? Soon thereafter I hear the sounds of some commotion outside. Daylight still hangs around like an insistent visitor so as I walk briskly into the office and peer outside. I can clearly see about two dozen armed soldiers rushing through the gate into the driveway. They pass by my window and hurtle towards the main entrance. Instinctively, I walk back into the corridor to see what is going on.
This corridor leads straight into the entrance lobby of the PTV Centre. From this lobby a flight of stairs ascends to the first floor which houses the main news studio from which all PTV bulletins are conducted. The newsroom, Production Control Room (PCR), as well as offices of the senior news managers, are located on this floor (or at least this was the geography of the building in 1999). To get to the main studio, you have to climb up the stairs, turn right and then again turn left into a long corridor. The studio is situated at the end of this corridor.
As I walk into the lobby, I see soldiers racing up the stairs. Two of them stand in front of the stairs brandishing their automatic weapons. I try to go up the stairs but am firmly stopped by the two guards. I can hear the sounds of the commotion upstairs but since my way is blocked, I have little choice but to turn and walk back again to the office. Inside, another shocker awaits me: the PTV screen has gone black. Is the channel off air?
The situation is now unfolding rapidly. Outside on the driveway shouting again breaks out. I rush to the window to see jeeps swerving on to the driveway and screeching to a halt near the main door. Out jump twenty odd policemen. From another vehicle emerge a dozen or so armed men in shalwar kameez and joggers. I recognise the bulky man. He is called ‘Haji’ and he is PM Sharif’s personal bodyguard. So a combined force of the local police and the prime minister’s personal guards has reached the PTV Centre led by…?
Yes, I can see their leader clearly from my vantage point. He is dressed in the khaki uniform and wears the rank of a brigadier. I know him. He is the military secretary to the PM and he is holding a pistol in his hand.
The group runs towards the entrance and out of my view. I swivel back into the corridor rush towards the lobby and stop dead in my tracks. In front of my eyes the cops and bodyguards have surrounded the two soldiers who had stopped me from going upstairs a few minutes ago. I can hear shouts and threats amidst pushing and shoving. The soldiers are completely outnumbered. The cops snatch their weapons and drag them into another room. Now a few cops are posted on the stairs while the brigadier leads the rest upstairs.
I trace my steps back towards the office but instead of going in, walk till the end of the corridor and open the door that leads to a back staircase. It is unguarded. I climb up to the first floor and walk into the corridor that links to the technical area. It’s not hard to figure out where everyone is. I just follow the noise. The passageway turns left and leads into the entrance of the studio. I emerge into the centre of the corridor and straight into the middle of a situation I hope I never witness again.
I look left and at the end of the corridor are a dozen or so soldiers aiming their guns straight in my direction. One of them is lying on the floor with a tripod mounted machine gun. I look right and the cops and bodyguards are aiming straight at the soldiers. I find myself in the unenviable position of being in the middle of these two opposing forces inside a twenty feet long corridor. So I step back outside the line of fire. I can see the soldiers are led by a major who stands in front of his troops. Facing him is the brigadier who is shouting at him: “Lower your weapon. Stand down. Stand down”.
It is a hair-trigger situation. The shouting is getting deafening and automatic weapons are pointed at each other. This continues for what seems to me like an eternity before suddenly the major makes a decision. He lowers his gun and orders his men to do the same. The brigadier orders: “Take their weapons”. The cops and the personal bodyguards disarm the soldiers and push them into a room and lock them inside.
I see the brigadier snap open his cell phone and speak animatedly. Shortly PTV comes back on air. The policemen have now taken control of the building. I walk into the first floor office of a news manager where I am joined by some other senior government officials who have arrived at the scene. Evening has finally descended and as I look out of the window I can see a crowd gathering outside the fenced perimeter of the building. Foreign channels have apparently run news about something happening inside the PTV Centre.
Before the hour is over, events take yet another turn. I can see a line of army trucks approaching the gate. They stop outside the sealed main gate and scores of troops leap out of them. They scramble up the gate and rush in. There’s a scramble outside and more shouting. As I step out of the room, the soldiers coming running up the same stairs and rush towards the studio area. Yet another stand-off begins between the fresh contingent and the police/bodyguards. This time the troops converge on to them with overwhelming force and within minutes the police and the personal bodyguards lay down their weapons in the halls of PTV Centre.
That fateful day who did what and why is now a part of history. The debate over who drew first blood continues till date and may carry as long as we do not have a broad consensus on the fundamentals of governance.
But eighteen years later as we stare into yet another abyss, can we all at least make new mistakes instead of repeating the old ones?
Published in The Express Tribune, October 8th, 2017.