Happy Birthday, Mr. Jinnah
Do you see this man? Do you know who this is? Do you remember? What's that, you do? Okay okay, I believe you. For anyone who doesn't know, this is Muhammad Ali Jinnah, fondly known in this country as Quaid-e-Azam, Founder of Pakistan. In fact, I think more people call him Quaid than his actual name, which is fine as long as you remember the actual name too.
I feel like sometimes people, including myself, forget that Mr. Jinnah was in fact a real person. We forget the enormity of the feat he achieved. We've been reading about his life and his struggles in putting Pakistan on the map, but we haven't been grasping the actual feeling behind it.
Think of it like this; something possessed an ordinary lawyer to aspire to create an entire new country. This isn't something trivial. And I mean, he didn't just aspire, he brought it home. And I don't know about you, but when I think about it like that, when I put myself in his shoes, I am left in a state of perpetual awe.
For a short time a while ago, I, to be very honest, lost all hope in the people of Pakistan. My eyes bled scarlet tears when I thought of Pakistan herself. My heart sang songs of wretchedness and misery, and I could have sworn I heard her cry to me, through her soil, through her air and through her being. I wondered if the blood of those valiant people who 67 years ago fought for something we still take undue advantage of today, was lost in vain.
For the longest time I thought education was the answer. Educate people, and things would be roses and sweet dreams again. But then people who were apparently educated began to do things I wouldn't expect of them, and a hundred daggers went flying at my heart. I closed the gaping wound in my chest with the faint hope that maybe this was just one person, just a small group? My answer came to me when I saw my hope drenched in the blood of a broken heart. I then asked myself; how can I expect education to solve our problems when the educated are just as bad? I ask you this too, for in all honesty, I don't really have an answer.
What I do have, is the tiniest sliver of hope, carefully threaded against my chest, holding in that once broken and now on the verge of healing heart. I know that for every bad person, there are a few good ones out there, hidden like the gems they are. I don't know what can save us as a nation, but knowing that isn't my job. All I know is that I must be the very best I can be, and I must pay my forefathers' debt, and I must never let my Quaid or my country down. Happy Birthday, Mr Jinnah.
xxx
Khadija Muzaffar
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