IN the current phase of our beautiful, beleaguered country’s history, institutional deviation and constitutional deformities have reached abysmal lows. This special report is being published on the birthday of an individual who had unshakable respect for institutional integrity and individual accountability in life, not immunity for life. The invitation to write encouraged one to consider anecdotal aspects to portray the Quaid’s life from inception to conclusion through fleeting glimpses, snatches of scenes, bits and pieces, which juxtaposed together, evoke his unlikely beginnings, unique persona, values and respect for institutions.
So much is already widely known about the pivotal role of
M.A. Jinnah, especially between 1935 and 1948. One therefore decided to select
relatively less known aspects. Herein are segments from the Quaid’s early years
and then, with a deliberate leap over the next 40 years or so, random clips
from the last 13 months.
A disconcerting birth
For data about his arrival on earth, and early years, one
relied on the account recorded by his sister Fatima Jinnah.
She spent the most time with him. In addition to being one
of his six siblings, she also spent a total of 28 years with him as his sole
housekeeping custodian and sister, in two phases. Initially from about 1910 to
1918. Then, following Ruttie Jinnah’s death in February, 1929 (after about 10
years of a tumultuous marriage from 1919 to 1929), for a total of 26 years,
living in close proximity, and frequent interaction. Her book My Brother
presumed to have been written about 15 years after his demise during 1963-64,
was published in 1967. Though the late eminent scholar Sharif ul Mujahid states
in his preface that “… an extremely controversial passage…” had to be excluded,
the published version comprises only three chapters which “…truthfully
reproduce…” the contents of the original manuscript, now stored in the National
Archives, Islamabad.
With the most reputed midwife of Karachi attending to a
home-based delivery in 1876 by mother Mithibai, Fatima Jinnah writes; “… the
baby boy was weak and tiny, having slim, long hands, and a long, elongated
head. The parents were seriously worried about his health, this little baby
that was underweight by quite a few pounds…” Despite the doctor’s assurance
that the low weight factor should not cause worry, Mithibai insisted that her
spouse Jinnah Poonja, herself and the baby travel soonest to Ganod in the small
princely state of Gondal, Kathiawar where the venerated holy man Hasan Pir was
buried, to seek his blessings for her frail first-born.
Braving a storm en route by sailing boat through the Arabian
Sea, to the port of Verawal, thence by bullock cart through village Paneli to
the destination of the great Sufi’s tomb, Mithibai and Jinnah Poonja fondly saw
the tiny tot’s head shaved for the aqeeqa. With silent, saintly blessings
absorbed, the return to Karachi commenced with a rich feast in Paneli where all
villagers joined to celebrate the birth of the boy named Mohammad Ali.
There was a poignant contrast in the last stretch. Just as
Pakistan’s genesis moved towards the triumph of reality, the great leader’s
already frail body was being eroded from within. His fragility became
increasingly apparent around, and onwards of 1940.
An unstudious boy
Yet even though he was already the apple – and the orange –
of his mother’s eye, his early childhood years worried his father. The boy was
far more interested in “…abandoning books for marbles, tops, gilli danda and
cricket…”.
of Croft’s firm for about three years where, among other
skills, he could also gain high proficiency in English while learning to adjust
to new challenges. Intense debate ensued between the parents. Mithibai most
reluctantly agreed to allow her beloved firstborn to leave – provided he was
first wed to prevent him from being entrapped by an English woman. The search
led to 15-year-old Emibai in distant Paneli village, Kathiawar.
The family then proceeded again by boat from Karachi to
Verawal, then by bullock cart to the bride’s home. After lavish festivities,
the new couple returned to Karachi. Soon thereafter, with his mother’s tears
and prayers blending for a heart-wrenching farewell, the son began the
three-week journey to what became a four-year life-changing experience. The
father had already remitted a large sum to London to pay for his expenses.
Sent to learn commerce, the youth soon learnt much more
elsewhere. Mohammad Ali listened to debates in the House of Commons, to
rhetoric at Hyde Park Speakers’ Corner, viewed Shakespeare’s plays, noted the
names of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) inscribed in Lincoln’s Inn as one
of the world’s greatest law-givers, canvassed votes for Bombay Zoroastrian, and
earlier, one of the four founders of the Congress Party, Dadabhai Naoroji’s
narrow victory as the first non-Englishman elected from a London constituency
to parliament.
In short, Jinnah rejected the very reason for being sent to
England by his father. Instead, as recounted by him about half a century later
in 1946 to Nasim Ahmed, Dawn’s correspondent in London, he even considered a
career on the stage. His appetite for acting … possibly as Romeo … was whetted
by brief experience with a touring company. Until his shocked father, who
belatedly learnt of new plans, instantly and categorically ruled that out.
All the while, he preserved chastity.
When his Russell Street landlady’s pretty daughter reminded
him that they happened to be “standing together chatting under a mistletoe on
Christmas Eve and that custom required the man to kiss the woman”, Jinnah
politely declined to do so because, as he told her, his faith and culture did
not permit such indulgence. did fall head over heels in love with reading, and
voraciously so.
From newspapers to law books to poetry to plays by
Shakespeare. From the extreme of abandoning books in childhood to cherishing
their infinite value as he grew into adulthood.
He was also recovering from the news of dual tragedies at
home. First his childbride Emibai’s death who he barely knew, followed by the
profound loss of one he knew from his very first breath, his adoring mother
Mithibai who passed away giving birth to her seventh child.
Perhaps these two traumas instilled a new resolve — to
fulfill his mother’s dreams and be the youngest ever law student to become a
barrister from Lincoln’s Inn. Then return to Karachi, and Bombay, to help his
father recover from the huge losses suffered in business.
THE Quaid with his beloved sister, and formidable supporter,
who devoted 28 years of her life to his mission.
Preferring law practice in larger Bombay to small-town
Karachi from 1897 to about 1900 was like an anti-climax to the hopes nurtured
by success in the London exams. His secretary in later years, M.H. Saiyid in
his book Mohammad Ali Jinnah (A Political Study), in 1945 wrote: “The first
three years were of great hardship and although he attended his office
regularly every day, he wandered without a single brief. The long and crowded
footpaths of Bombay may, if they could only speak, bear testimony to a young
pedestrian pacing them every morning from his new abode in a humble locality in
the city, to his office in the Fort, and every evening back again to his
apartments after a weary, toilsome day spent in anxious expectation.”
Ironically, momentous change yet again began through the
intervention of an Englishman, John Macpherson, the acting advocate-general of
Bombay. Jinnah became the first-ever local practitioner to be invited to work
in the advocate general’s chamber. Obviously, some hint of the intelligence and
potential possessed by the young barrister must have come through to the senior
luminary who was later knighted. Hearing about a vacancy for a temporary
presidency magistrate, the freshly-recruited lawyer boldly initiated contact
with his employer ‘s support, and Sir Charles Olivant, member in-charge of the
judicial department, who then became the third Englishman to play a catalytic
role in opening dramatic new vistas for Jinnah’s ascent to outstanding
professional success.
Forty years later
Many articles by other writers published in Dawn have
already done justice to crucial phases of the founder’s life between 1900 and
1940. In this rumination, while even excluding glimpses of his singular love
for Ruttie Jinnah, arbitrary focus is on random segments between 1940 and 1948.
Age, frailty and fanaticism
Except for Mahatma Gandhi, born in 1869, who was seven years
older than Jinnah, the Muslim League’s leader was the oldest among the three
most important political figures who played decisive roles in the creation of
Pakistan and India. Gandhi had an overarching influence but did not wield the
operational Congress policy direction that Nehru did. The latter was born in
1889. He was thirteen years younger and was 58 years old at Independence while
Mountbatten was 24 years younger and was only 47 years of age in 1947.
Jinnah, at 71, was the oldest of the three protagonists. But
was also the one most notably becoming physically vulnerable to ill-health.
In 1953, A.R. Casey, the governor of Bengal in 1946, noted
that “I have looked up my personal diary, and I find that I emphasised, in
several references, the fact that he (M.A. Jinnah) looked very frail.” However,
he could sustain long periods of active discussion without any sign of tiring
…a couple of hours at a time…. My wife and I dined with him and his sister at
Government House in Karachi … in March 1948. At this same dinner my wife made
some comment about someone or other being “a fanatic.” Jinnah said, “Don’t
decry fanatics. If I hadn’t been a fanatic, there would never have been
Pakistan.”
Governor-General’s House is well known.
Frail at birth and in death
Weight count came a full circle.
From cradle to grave. Infected lungs and sheer fatigue had
reduced him to only 70 pounds. Yet, when it mattered most, Jinnah punched way
above his physical weight.
In every sense, the Quaid-i-Azam remained the unbeaten
heavy-weight champion of history. He defeated three adversaries virtually
single-handedly — the British, the Congress Party and allies, plus at least
four Muslim entities that opposed the creation of Pakistan.
Though well-known, Stanley Wolpert’s distinctive tribute in
his book, Jinnah of Pakistan bears repetition: “Few individuals significantly
alter the course of history. Fewer still modify the map of the world. Hardly
anyone can be credited with creating a nation-state.
Mohammad Ali Jinnah did all three.”
