My Life and Times
By Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai
Translated by Muhammad Khan Achakzai
Khan Shaheed Research Centre, Quetta
ISBN: 978-9692347709
705pp.

It is unfortunate that Balochistan, despite being Pakistan’s largest province and the richest in valuable natural resources, has been marginalised since colonial times. Sadly, the same is true for its remarkable personalities.

For instance, many people know about Abdul Ghaffar ‘Bacha’ Khan, the ‘Frontier Gandhi’, and his association with the pacifist Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. But nothing near an equal level of interest is shown to ‘Balochistan’s Gandhi’ — Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai.

Perhaps this will change with the publication of Achakzai’s autobiography, My Life and Times. Originally written in Pashto as Zama Zhwand aw Zhwandun, the book has been translated into English by Achakzai’s son — and former governor of Balochistan — Muhammad Khan Achakzai.

Separated into four parts, the book discusses, among many other things, the nationalist leader’s childhood, education and family; his involvement in politics and subsequent imprisonments; his newspaper and his political comrades; and his falling out with his companions, second marriage in 1946 and events around Independence.

There is also a most interesting post-Partition section, which includes his letters to the Quaid-i-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan, and his first arrest in the new country.

The translation of Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai’s Pashto autobiography into English will allow a wider readership to appreciate the iconic role he played in Pakhtun history

Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai was born on July 7, 1907, in the village of Inayatullah Karez — named after his great-grandfather — in Balochistan’s district of Qilla Abdullah. He was a prominent journalist, writer, politician and, above all, a champion of Pakhtun and Baloch people’s rights during the British Raj, remaining so until his death.

Despite his conservative upbringing, Achakzai opposed discrimination towards women in Pakhtun society and even dedicates his book to his wife, the “lady whose love, untiring dedication and wholehearted adherence to Pakhtunwali [the Pakhtun code of conduct] has thus sweetened my life and [made] its path easy for me.”

Achakzai grew up in a culture where hunting was a way of life. The possession of, and the ability to handle, guns and ammunition was considered emblematic of great courage and valour among the Pakhtun. However, inspired by Gandhi’s gospel of pacifism, he renounced the sport in 1930 when, just barely into his 20s, he “joined the national freedom movement which was based on forbearance and non-violence.”

One can discern his great regard for Gandhi even though Achakzai was never associated with the Indian National Congress. As he writes in the chapter ‘Meeting Gandhi Ji for the First Time’, in July 1931, he went to “Bombay, via Sindh” after he saw in the newspapers

“Gandhi Ji’s programme who was at that time in Bardoli preparing to leave for Bombay in a few days’ time, stopping for two days on the way at Ahmedabad.”

He further writes: “I imagined Gandhi to be tall and well-built, like the Muslim social elite officers and chieftains that I had met thus far. But when I saw him, he was an ordinary, average human in appearance like all the others. His simple attire and personal ways aside, of which I was aware, there was nothing outstanding about his person or his ways.”

The meeting occurred at the Gujarat Vidyapith College. “[Gandhi] talked with us in a friendly and simple way and I said to him that the purpose of my visit was to inform him and all the leaders of India, who were going to London for the Round Table Conference, of the difficult conditions of Balochistan, which was also a part of India.”

Achakzai regarded Gandhi so highly that he even adopted the wearing of khadi clothes and what was known as the ‘Gandhi cap’. In 1918, Gandhi had begun advocating for khadi — handspun and handwoven fabric — as a key element of the movement designed to boycott the use of imported materials.

The fabric not only lifted a great number of people out of poverty as it created a local industry and jobs, but symbolised nationalism and anti-British sentiment. Wearing khadi clothes, therefore, was taken as a grave offence by the British, especially in Balochistan where — thanks to zero independent news media and only government mouthpieces — they had greater power to deal with ‘rebellion’.

Gandhi knew as much and stated: “The government of Balochistan will not tolerate you wearing this.” But Achakzai remained staunch in his sartorial choice, and paid the price for daring to be blatantly nationalistic with repeated arrests.

Recalling personal life events, Achakzai is plainspoken. At the age of 21, he went to his bridal chamber with no idea of how to consummate a marriage. Later, when in Bombay [Mumbai] for political purposes, he describes how a renowned socialite asked him to stay back, as she had “some work” with him.

Greatly perturbed by what she, a complete stranger, would want with him at such a late hour, he chose to leave. As a consequence of this, he writes: “After a lot of consideration, I sought refuge in growing a beard, hoping that it would shield me from the negative intents of liberal and liberated women.”

His mother was pleased to see him with a beard when he returned to his hometown and he quotes her as saying, “Keeping a beard is good, it distinguishes and separates men from women.”

Besides Gandhi, Achakzai was also enamoured of the Congress leader Dr Saifuddin Kitchlew. He attended the 1929 Congress gathering in Lahore, where the resolution of Indian independence was adopted, and found Dr Kitchlew’s speech “the best.” Consequently, when blessed with a son in the spring of 1930, Achakzai named the child Saifuddin.

Spending much time during the 1930s in Karachi to generate awareness about the travails of the Baloch, Achakzai developed an acquaintance with A.K. Jangiani, a newspaper reporter prominent in the city’s political circles. After Partition, Jangiani migrated to India and went on to become editor of the Hindustan Times.

It was Jangiani who attached the appellation “Balochistan’s Gandhi” to Achakzai’s name for the very first time. The sobriquet quickly became a permanent fixture. “Friends and Hindus would call me by the adjunct by way of love and respect, while my opponents would use it acrimoniously,” writes Achakzai.

Achakzai spent a lot of time in jail — beginning with his first imprisonment in 1928, to prevent him from joining the Afghan leader Ghazi Amanullah, who was trying to confront an uprising in his country — and often went on hunger strikes to protest the inhuman treatment of prisoners.

He quit formal education after class eight despite having all the means to continue, because even though a degree would have secured him any lucrative government position, he did not aspire to serve the British. Instead, he became a self-taught journalist, prison serving as his training institute for journalism and politics. After the Press and Publication Act was extended to Balochistan in 1935, he set up a printing press and began publishing a newspaper called Istaqlal.

In the same year, a violent earthquake rocked Quetta, killing tens of thousands of people. One casualty was Achakzai’s close compatriot, Nawab Yousaf ‘Aziz’ Magsi, a well-known Progressive writer and poet and founder of Baloch nationalism. Achakzai was about 50 kilometres away at the time of the earthquake, imprisoned in Mach jail. Learning of his dear friend’s death, Achakzai decided to rename his press “‘the Aziz Press’ in memory of Yousaf Ali Khan Magsi, because Aziz was the pseudonym that Nawab Magsi used in his poetry.”

Achakzai presided over the All India Baloch Conference, held in 1932 in Jacobabad, Sindh. Later, he became president of the political party Anjuman-i-Watan which, he writes, “independently decided not to help the British in [their Second World War] effort.”

Nonetheless, when Gandhi “initiated his individual resistance (satyagraha), the Anjuman offered the service of its 50 members towards this movement.” The aid was offered even though the Anjuman had no organisational affiliation with Congress.

Much of Achakzai’s time was spent with his comrades at the forefront of Balochistan’s political struggles. These included Progressive stalwarts such as Mir Abdul Aziz Kurd, Sardar Amin Khosa, Mir Hussain Unka and Mir Hasan Nizami among others. But, following Partition, he moved away from the National Awami Party, formed in 1957.

His relations were not too remarkable with his Pakhtun brethren, especially Bacha Khan of the then North-West Frontier Province (NWFP, now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa) because Achakzai argued for the separation of Pakhtun areas from Balochistan and joining the then NWFP.

Achakzai dedicated his life to the greater cause of his people, to win their rights through peaceful, democratic and non-violent means. He had set his guns down in 1930 and never picked them up again, even roaming the streets of his province — which was almost always in the grip of some turbulence or the other — without armed security guarding him.

Tragically, pacifism cost him his life. On the night of Dec 2, 1973, two hand grenades were thrown into his home, killing him in his sleep. He was 66 years old.

The lives and struggles of people such as Abdul Samad Khan Achakzai remind one of a flower — the lirio de los valles, or lily of the valley. It is one of the few flowers that can bloom in the dark. Like it, Achakzai began speaking for his people in the darkness brought on by colonialism and undemocratic forces in Pakistan. By translating the book into English, his son has brought the flower into the light, as now an even wider readership can appreciate the role Achakzai has played in Pakhtun and Baloch history.

The reviewer is a member of staff.
He tweets @Akbar_notezai

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, December 25th, 2022