A LITTLE over a week ago, at the age of 83, the Pakistani politician and spiritual icon Shah Mardan Shah II, Pir Pagara VII, died in a London hospital, far away from Sindh, the land that nurtured him and gave him his birthright and in which he ruled with the wisdom and fortitude that few Pakistani leaders have displayed during the 60-plus years of Pakistan’s existence.

Going back to 1956, and a scene I witnessed as a 10-year-old, during a shoot in Sanghar: Pir Sahib’s jeep became stuck in the dried sandbed of the Nara canal. “Bhej Pagara! Bhej Pagara! Bhej Pagara!” was the shout, like a swelling wave, from the thousands of Hurs surrounding his jeep. Within minutes they had literally lifted the vehicle to dry land. This was, to my childlike eyes, an awesome demonstration of Pir Pagara’s immense power.

Yet Pir Pagara’s connection to our lives was special and personal. He called my father, Sardar Mohammad Ali Shah Jamote, ‘Chacha Saeen’, and was extremely respectful, affectionate, and kind to him and our entire family. Since 1953, he honoured our family home, Jamote House in Hyderabad, as his own. Whenever he travelled back and forth from Karachi by road, he would always stop for short and long stays that could be extended for days on end.

My father was not Pir Sahib’s murid (follower), but Pir Sahib gave him protocol and respect because he felt an intellectual and emotional compatibility with someone whom he sensed was an upright, honest man.

His association with the Jamote family began when Pir Pagara returned from a decade of exile in order to take over his responsibilities as the leader of his Jamaat in 1953. Pir Pagara’s political and social trust in my father increased when, in 1954-55, Pir Sahib’s political group’s efforts to form the government in Sindh were undermined by the machinations of Pir Ali Mohammed Rashdi. By remaining only one of three out of 60 assembly members loyal to Pir Pagara, my father formed a bond with Pir Sahib that extended through three generations over the following 60 years.

Pir Sahib’s visits enhanced Jamote House’s reputation as a hub of political activity involving Sindh and Pakistan. Many political careers were propelled or curtailed during these visits; renowned political and social figures would frequent the house, creating a scene much like a carnival, where scores of white-turbaned influential members of the Hur Jamaat would gather all around.

Many a future minister, chief minister and prime minister’s political futures evolved through the influence of Pir Pagara, due to his significant power base, the hundreds of thousands of Hur Jamaat entrenched in Sindh and Rajasthan in India, some of the most devoted and bravest of people seen anywhere in the world.

This band had been outlawed by the British under a period of martial law in Sindh — H.T. Lambrick, special commissioner in Sindh in 1942-43 had called “the terrorists”. Pir Pagara not only united this brave but battered band, but moulded them into a patriotic national militia that fought for Pakistan during the 1965 and 1971 wars.

During the 1965 war, he travelled to the Indian border to mobilise his troops, where he came under threat of attack by the Indian Air Force. He left before an attack took place, but under his command the Hurs occupied the largest tract of Indian land in the Rann of Katch. President Ayub Khan later wanted to award Pir Pagara the Hilal-i-Pakistan for this act of loyalty, but Pir Sahib refused, saying that it was his patriotic duty to defend his homeland, and he had not done it for any reward.

The political triumphs of Pir Sahib are known to many, but few know his personal tastes and accomplishments. He had twopassions traditionally enjoyed by Sindhi nobility: hunting — he was one of the finest shots in Sindh — and horses, owning many prize-winning racehorses throughout his life. He was a master bridge and chess player and an avid reader: he read Socrates as a young man, and his vast library included works on all subjects. He adored art and music, particularly western classical music. In his youth, his passion for cricket led him to form his own cricket team that even played a first-class match against the visiting MCC team in 1956 at Hyderabad.

In the last year of Pir Sahib’s life, he publicly acknowledged my elder brother, Sayed Zulfiqar Ali Shah, as his “only friend”.

When my brother died and his son was made the succeeding Jamote, Pir Sahib was ill and weak, but he made the tremendous effort of travelling from Karachi to Matiari for the dastarbandi, and tied the turban on my nephew’s head, a rare and fitting tribute to the bond that had endured between him and our family for the last 60 years. In hindsight, I recognise this as his last farewell to us.

The centuries-old continuity of Pir Sahib’s political base was a source of political credibility that no other Pakistani leader can match today. His own leadership qualities gave that inherited power base new relevance in modern times. As Yar Mohammed Shah of Matiari said on Pir Sahib’s death, “Pir Pagara was the Sindh card; Sindh has been orphaned.”

All children of Sindh feel as though they have lost a parent, protective, strong, strict, and wise, but Pir Sahib, a political giant not just of Sindh but of Pakistan, commanded such respect during his momentous life that even his enemies acknowledge that his death has created a vacuum that nobody knows how to fill.

The writer is a professor of International Relations, and a former federal and provincial minister.