Prisoner of Conscience: Badshah Khan

Prisoner of Conscience: Badshah Khan

Badshah Khan lived his whole life as in battle. Although he lived to a good old age, time neither dimmed his intellect, nor darkened his moral vision, nor did it slacken the ardour of his genius. In age, his speeches had in them all the energy and fire of youth. Even during the last phase of his life, he was fully abreast of his surroundings. No events or circumstances escaped his intelligent observation which was in harmony with the guiding sentiment of his life: ‘My country is the world, and all mankind are my country men’.

With him it was not race or colour but humanity that mattered. He was always firm and fearless, clear sighted and strong, quick to discern the right, eloquent and bold enough to defend it. In times of crisis he was a fountain of light and a tower of strength.

I was fortunate to have known Badshah Khan since the year 1964, while I was a student at Karachi. If anyone had told me that this simply dressed man will possess such an enduring impact on my life, I would have shaken my head in disbelief. Nevertheless, in reality, there has never been a moment in my life to lose faith in his greatness. For me, he is to be valued and loved; there is a wealth of images from his life that I associate with my time with him. I received my political initiation from him and worked closely under his guidance for many years. I regarded him as the chief apostle of the immediate and unconditional emancipation of all enslaved Pakhtuns. I shall never forget the feelings with which I went to hear this man. It was more than fifty years ago. In him there was no contradiction between what he said and what he acted upon. He had a countenance that portrayed firmness and benignity, a controlled temper and serenity of mind. Sweetness of spirit and a sublime intelligence was writ luminously on his countenance, as if by an angel! A million of human faces might be searched without finding one like his. In him I beheld the resurrection of the dead and buried hope of the long-enslaved Pashtuns.

As I now reminisce, he spoke not like an orator. There were no striking gestures, no fine flow of words, no dazzling rhetoric and no startling emphasis. His power as a speaker was the power which belongs only to the strength of character, earnest conviction and high moral purpose of a true reformer. It was not the utterance, but the man behind it that gave dignity, weight and effect to his speech. Though I was quite young when I first saw him, he appeared even then a venerable man. His part in the battle of life had been at the front. The serious work he was called upon to perform had left its traces on all. Popular displeasure and bitter persecution had poured upon him their fiercest wrath. He was taunted, ridiculed, caricatured, misrepresented and denounced by the vulgar, and treated with contempt and scorn by the rich and great. Yet there he stood, without bitterness, without hate, without violence in speech or act, in thought or wish, self-poised, erect and serene.

Now that this man has filled up the measure of his years, now that the leaf has fallen to the ground as all leaves must, we behold a great life come to an end, a great purpose achieved, a great career beautifully finished, and a great example of heroic endeavour nobly established. For our own good and the good of those who shall follow us.

The world has seen many heroes, some who have founded empires and some who have overthrown governments, some who have with their strong arms and broad swords hewed their way to power, fame, and fortune. There have been great kings, great generals, and great statesmen; but these great ones for the most part owed their greatness to circumstances rather than to themselves. It was not so with this great man whose memory we celebrate through this book. Let us try to emulate his virtues, and endeavour as he did, to leave the world freer, nobler, and better than we have found it. Let us cherish his memory as a precious inheritance.

Pervaiz Khan