The Jinnah we knew was very different from the one we see on our bank notes. The one on our bank notes is dull, monotonous and peculiarly lifeless.
Growing up in Pakistan, it feels like we’ve been robbed of what Jinnah’s legacy was. Nobody knows who he was, or how he thought. We never knew our Jinnah was immensely classy with 200+ Savile Row suits, someone dripping with the Brit culture, but turned around and gave them Brits a taste of their own medicine. Someone with the intellectuality of bringing a nation into being. Someone who Iqbal trusted with the responsibility of implementing his ideologies. Jinnah, with his great-danes and his Rolls-Royce was the pinnacle of wealth and status back in the days. We are never taught how someone from that position would go on to build a whole nation, unprecedented. How someone was build to challenge the status-quo, so radically.
Growing up in Pakistan, we haven’t read anything though we think we know everything about Jinnah because we use to start off our essays with ‘MAJ was born in Karachi to Jinnah Punja on 25th December’. We have been robbed off the intellectual conversations carried between Jinnah and Iqbal in letters. We’ve been robbed of knowing our leader in the truest essence. Heck we never even bothered to read his biography, which shamefully a gora wrote, instead of a Pakistani.
We, with our declining intellects and exaggerated patriotism, disappoint you Jinnah.
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