TONY Blair may have been called Dubya’s poodle in blindly following him from one blunder into another. But the ‘junior’ partner in the war on terror coalition has had an important role in the case of Pakistan.

British diplomats played a crucial role in bringing Pervez Musharraf and Benazir Bhutto to a dialogue as a first step towards the transition to civilian rule, preferring to do all this quietly. So it was a surprise when they reacted publicly to Altaf Hussain’s ‘get a month’s ration’ call to his supporters in Karachi.

In a rare statement, the British Foreign Office minister decried ‘inflammatory’ statements by political parties, naming only the MQM. This stance was evolved after a top British diplomat talked to the interlocutors in London before arriving in Pakistan for further fact-finding talks.

The British government has acquired greater leverage over some of the political exiles on its soil because an amendment to the immigration laws in 2006 empowers it to revoke the nationality of any naturalised dual national if the decision was deemed for the ‘public good’.

But this is not to say any such leverage has been used with Mr Altaf Hussain for we don’t know.

What is clear is that a stable Pakistan with peace in Karachi and elsewhere is seen as vital by a coalition keen on no distractions as it embarks on its troop drawdown plans in Afghanistan. Admittedly, the dynamics of Karachi are too complex for me.

Yusuf Khan would have loved the story. Rarely one for long-winded lectures, he’d use a simple anecdote, crack a joke and all pieces would fall into place. An astute political reporter with a sharp wit, he was a storyteller par excellence.

Moustached and thickset, with a growl often replacing his voice, he could be mistaken for a menacing man but within him lay a tender heart. But he had no capacity to suffer fools, as many fools will testify. His humour was endearing as it was devastating.

An upright journalist, even as the ‘chief reporter’ of Nawa-i-Waqt newspaper, all he had for transportation was a rickety old motorcycle which he’d park at the Press Club. So, it was my job to chauffer him around town as we chased stories, players.

And each day, he taught me a thing or two. But if the fiercely competitive Yusuf spotted a reporter from arch-rival Jang he’d clam up, his generosity drying up fast.It was in the run-up to the 1990 elections when someone asked him if the MQM had lost some of its popularity responsible for stunning wins in the 1988 polls in Karachi and Hyderabad.

Coming into his own, he recalled asking his sister’s son just a day or two earlier whether the latter was going to campaign for the MQM as he had done in the previous elections.

“Mamma, yeh koee mazaaq nahin hay, azadi ki jang hay, zindagi aur maut ka sawal. Hum jan de denge.” (‘Uncle, it isn’t a joke, it’s a battle for freedom; a matter of life and death for us; we’ll die for our cause.”)

As Yusuf Khan was repeating his nephew’s words with great drama and relish, his eyes lit up. It was always like this with him.

He’d deliver his short and sharp analysis and leave one guessing whether it was a fact or he’d made it up.“Abay, itnay sawal naa kiya karo, jalee hoee laash mein se bacha-kucha ID card milega jis se shanakht hogi tumharee.” (‘Don’t ask so many questions or your charred body will be identified by your half-burnt and twisted ID card.’) He offered this grave, even morbid, advice to a colleague with mock seriousness before throwing back his head and erupting in laughter. Those of us who knew him were already in stitches. It was less a joke and more a commentary on the times. We had just left MQM’s HQ, Nine-Zero, after a press conference by the MQM leader.

Anyone who has ever been to a city room of a newspaper would know that all evening long different characters show up there, chasing relevant beat reporters, to get their statements published. This is their badly needed oxygen. If only in their own eyes, this keeps them alive, relevant. One evening Yusuf Khan was busy working when a politician started to nag him, constantly repeating that the ‘country was in great danger’. Fed up, Yusuf Khan looked and asked in anger: “Acha. Double kalmi se bach jai ga?” (‘Will a double-column news item save it?’)

The politician nodded enthusiastically, handed over his statement taking comfort in the knowledge that he’d been assured a double-column display by none other than the chief reporter. The country had been saved!

Then there were jokes that cannot be repeated here. Unfortunately, those were the funniest especially those involving the lifestyle and politics of the stereotypical ‘colourful feudal politician’. His humour in true journalistic tradition was even-handed!

Jokes aside, he had a disdain for military rulers and was a firm believer in civilian supremacy, often saying he respected Benazir Bhutto, Altaf Hussain and Nawaz Sharif because they enjoyed public mandate.

But he couldn’t help himself as the very next moment he’d mimic ‘Aala Hazrat’ Maulana Shah Ahmad Noorani or prominent politician Pir Aftab Shah Jilani with ease. This was never in malice and always with great fondness. Yusuf Khan will be sorely missed. His heart betrayed him last Wednesday.

He often used to acknowledge that “Ghazala Begum”, his supportive wife, two sons “Mohammad Saad” and “Mohammad Anas” and daughter “meri shehzadi,” were his whole life. His wife did such a wonderful job, in almost single-handedly raising their lovely children, while he gave work most of his waking hours. I can’t fathom how they must feel today. Rest in peace.

The writer is a former editor of Dawn.

abbas.nasir@hotmail.com