She neither shrieked to sound credible, nor did she doll up like today’s anchorette babes to prove her mettle with their tailored jackets and blow-dried tresses. She dressed simply, looked into the eye and talked sense in an educated manner that instantly built a comfort zone around her thousands of fans across Pakistan. Thirty years of television compering and high-level government portfolios under her belt, this is Mahtab Rashdi for you. Some know her as a bureaucrat, others as a veteran TV anchor.

In the early 70s, when Rashdi taught International Relations at the University of Jamshoro and did some audio work for Radio Pakistan, Hyderabad, she met Abdul Karim Baloch who approached her to work on PTV. “I wasn’t interested in acting and it seemed ridiculous to come all the way from Hyderabad to read a five-minute news bulletin. I agreed to compering and Shireen Khan auditioned me. The first programme I did was Iss haftay, a weekly quiz show for children, produced by Fehmida Nasreen. Later I was asked to replace Shireen Farooqi in a children’s show Roshan Tara.”

A year later she left for Massachusetts for her Fullbright Scholarship and rejoined PTV on her return after two years. “For a while I did Motian Mala, a celebrity interview show followed by Kirnain and then came Firozaan.”

Firozaan was perhaps the zenith of Rashdi’s career and it also presented her with a challenge that would brand her as a controversial anchor when she took a firm stand against the Martial Law government directive. But it defined her as a strong woman for all times to come.

“PTV received a directive from Zia-ul-Haq that on TV men should wear sherwanis and all female anchors must cover their head. When the producer, Afreen, wanted me to do Firozaan, I told him that I would not cover my head. Nor will I do Pakistan ki naaray baazi unnecessarily but where and when it is relevant I will be duly patriotic as I am a patriot at heart.”

Rashdi also disagreed to the producer’s suggestion to wear a sari and make an entry on camera with her head covered but for the rest of the show, the pallu could fall. “I wasn’t interested in false pretences and dramatics. I took a stand because I believed that Ziaul Haq is nobody to tell me what I should wear and how I should appear and present myself. My argument was that I was a lecturer at the University of Jamshoro, respected by my students and colleagues and the people on the street because I presented and carried myself in a certain way. Now President Zia was going to tell a Pakistani woman how she should dress and present herself? I preferred not to appear on TV than to agree to his superficial policies.”

Her hindsight cautioned her about trouble in the University for her but she was prepared to face any challenges than to compromise her principles.

Instead of wearing shawlwar-kameez and dupatta, she eventually agreed to wear saris in Firozaan for one quarter. The show was popular but moved to LTV for the next quarter, hosted by late Ghazala Qureshi. “In the meantime I was given Apni Baat at KTV where I sat on camera reading out television mail. You can’t read people’s letters looking sad, so I used to be myself, lively and cheerful to which there were objections that I smiled too much. Plus I still wasn’t covering my head. Burhanuddin Hassan, the GM, would try to convince me to cover my head. ‘Ap kyun nahin sar dhakteen, ap achhi lagain gi’ he would say. I replied that I do not want people to just look at me but I want them to listen to what I am saying. Announcers in those days had figured out several styles to cover the hair and yet look attractive. But for me it wasn’t a question of glamour, it was a question of principle. That is why I would tell them beforehand that instead of coming to a point where you have to remove me halfway from a show it is better that you use someone else because if you insist on head covering, etc. I may just walk out.”

Eventually she was sacked for not covering her head. “One day Mohsin Sahib, our GM, called me and said there is a problem and we need your help. We have received a call from the presidency that if Mahtab cannot cover her head, then she cannot do the show. Without a second thought I said that I would help him for sure by discontinuing the show. To which he quickly said ‘thank you very much’ and hung up. The man obviously was under so much pressure. They had already decided that Khushbakht would replace me as anchor for the show. Being my friend, she called me when she heard that I had quit; she felt bad replacing me in the show but I encouraged her.”

That was not all. “All my recorded shows for PTV including those that had not been aired as yet were scraped. Today there is no record of my work on PTV. They destroyed history.”

Television viewers heard odd rumours and noticed her absence from the mini-screen but it was only confirmed when an evening daily carried the story headed ‘La Dupatta’. “The late Wahab Siddiqui was in Hyderabad and came over to meet me.

After some small talk, he asked me about my sudden disappearance. I told him the story and when it appeared in the paper, there was an unprecedented response from NGOs and people who stood by me for my principles.”

Eight years later when Zia died, and elections were to be held, PTV called her again for election transmission. “I asked them how would they like me to present myself and they said whichever way you like! That was my comeback on PTV for election transmission with Tariq Aziz, Khushbakht Shujaat and Naeem Bokhari.”

The time away from television was wisely spent on getting married and raising a family. Much to her surprise, the wedding was no less than a Grisham plot. “Akbar and I were interested in getting married but Akbar’s father believed that a highly educated working woman may not have the domestic credentials required as a wife. Pir Isamuddin Rashdi, Akbar’s uncle was very fond of him and decided to play the lead role in getting us married.”

The crème de la crème of Sindh attended the big, fat wedding which had another track running alongside it discreetly but when it came to light, the newly married couple could not believe that without a clue, they had played an important role in shaping Pakistan’s political history.

“When Begum Bhutto was invited to the wedding and was asked about her availability, she suggested that February, 26, 1981, would suit her; hence that date was finalised. There was quite a commotion. The press was excited because the controversial Mahtab Rashdi was getting married. Would the bride cover her head or not? “Abdullah Memon Sahib, the then commissioner, called me to say that protocol had been arranged as he had information that guests were expected from 70 Clifton. Indeed Benazir and Sanam came with a school-friend Samia and Sanam’s fiancé Nasir. They said that Begum Nusrat couldn’t come because something else had come up.”

A week later, the newly-weds were returning to Karachi from Islamabad. “A gentleman came up to my husband to say that they were thankful to us that because of our wedding, Begum Nusrat reached Lahore. Apparently while everyone was expecting Begum Nusrat Bhutto to appear at our wedding, she donned a burqa and hid underneath a pile of clothes being delivered to the laundry in a Volkswagon which dropped her off at Cant. Station where she took a train to Lahore to arrive at a PPP convention that the government forbade her to attend.”

More dramatics followed when the daily Star gave full coverage to the wedding and printed a huge photo of BB with Mahtab Rashdi. “The caption said, ‘The bride with a guest’. In those days the print media was not allowed to print names nor pictures of Bhutto sahib or his family. At that time Ahmed Maqsood Hamidi was the secretary information and he told me how copies of the Star sold like hot cakes but they had orders to lift the newspaper from the stands everywhere just because BB’s picture had been printed. The editor Mansoori sahib stayed underground for some time till the matter was resolved.”

This brought us to her bonding with BB. “The Bhuttos and my family have a very long association. Just a wall divided our house from where Bhutto’s first wife Begum Ameer lived but we used to call her Addi Shireen. Bhutto used to write letters to her from Pune and she would call my sister to read them to her.”

Mahtab recalled her conversation with BB about her days in jail when she was in solitary confinement. “There would be nothing to do, no books to read. She would make 30 lines on the wall with a piece of coal and everyday she would strike off one line to mark a day gone and that is how she would keep tab on the days. She said her cell had these lines everywhere. BB was the kind of person who would remain in touch with people. She would always ask questions about development in Sindh, the culture, the people and their feedback.”

Such was the relationship between Rashdi and BB that when BB’s daughter was born Rashdi was asked to suggest names and Bhakhtawar was named on Rashdi’s suggestion.