It's Troubled, But It's Home

In Lahore, things are calmer, but there are reports of shootings and arson, and most people stay indoors. I venture out to my cousin's house, passing along some of what would normally be the busiest boulevards in this city of 8 million. I do not see more than a handful of cars. Lights are out, the streets are empty.

The following night, many of us notice that the moon hangs low in the sky, reddish-orange and perhaps three-quarters full. The missing crescent seems to be not on the left or the right, but at the top, giving the moon an odd shape, like the bulge of a pregnant woman's belly.

Bhutto is assassinated on a Thursday. By Saturday, stocks of food and petrol are running low. Shops are shuttered in protest at her killing, petrol stations are closed for fear of arsonists, and trucks and trains that carry supplies up and down Pakistan have stopped running after coming under attack.

Sunday brings a measure of reprieve, as the riots seem to be coming under control. For me, there are two very unexpected sources of hope during this period. The first is from Nawaz Sharif, Bhutto's longtime political opponent and leader of the anti-establishment Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N). He arrives at the hospital immediately upon hearing of her death and is so visibly upset that he cries out again and again that this is Pakistan's "darkest day." The spontaneous humanity of his reaction, the depth of compassion and grief (from him, of all people), seems to resonate with and unite a vast swath of Pakistanis across the political spectrum, as does his subsequent announcement that his party will boycott the elections out of sympathy for Bhutto's Pakistan People's Party (PPP).

Even more surprising is the first press conference of the PPP after Bhutto's death. Her widower, the newly designated PPP co-chairperson, Asif Ali Zardari, has an extremely unsavory reputation. Yet instead of exploiting resentments in Sindh (Bhutto's home province) against the Punjab (the province where she was killed), he delivers an eloquent and -- dare I say it? -- inspiring defense of the federation, of democracy and of Sindhi-Punjabi brotherhood. He offers an olive branch to the army, saying that the PPP's quarrel is with Pakistan's ruling party, not with the country's soldiers. He admonishes the rioters, tells Pakistanis to express their anger by voting in the elections, and expresses his gratitude to Sharif while asking Sharif's party not to boycott the polls (a request Sharif quickly accepts).

By Monday, a sense of relief seems to be spreading through the country: On television, in newspapers, in conversations at the market, people are expressing cautious optimism about a future that only four days earlier seemed so bleak. There is enormous sympathy for Bhutto and her party. She was perhaps never so popular in life as she is now in death.

Meanwhile, Musharraf and the party of his establishment, the Pakistan Muslim League (Quaid-e-Azam), have perhaps never been so unpopular. Television images of firefighters being directed to hose away evidence from the assassination scene, and government statements that Bhutto died not from bullets nor from a bomb but from falling on the sun-roof lever of her SUV, add fuel to the many conspiracy theories circulating about who really ordered her killing. Election posters bearing the bicycle symbol of Musharraf's party are being torn down all over the city.

Two friends come to see us. In October, when Bhutto first returned to Karachi from self-imposed exile abroad, they had ridden in her convoy. Their car was immediately behind Bhutto's vehicle, and they saw the blasts of that initial unsuccessful suicide bomb attack on her. But they keep speaking of what preceded the carnage: the rapturous reception she received from her supporters. They tell me it was beautiful, with all the singing and dancing and cheering of a carnival. It was a Pakistan they had never seen before, full of diversity and hope, with people from all four provinces and even the religious minorities out in a show of joy.

Little more than a week has passed since Bhutto's death, but life in Lahore is almost normal again. I am amazed by Pakistan's resilience, by this nation's power to pick itself up and carry on. But change is in the air. Opposition parties are uniting against the Musharraf-led establishment. Elections, even though they have been postponed until Feb. 18, seem poised to deliver a powerful rebuke to the current regime, unless of course they are rigged.

In the United States, there will be newspaper columns and television talk shows dedicated to "loose nukes" and the "war on terror." Here in Pakistan, one can see signs of people coming together. Scare stories notwithstanding, it is possible (although by no means certain) that out of this tragedy the world's sixth-largest nation may succeed in finding its voice -- and with that the chance for a better future.

mohsinhamid@hotmail.co.uk

Mohsin Hamid's most recent novel is

"The Reluctant Fundamentalist."