Dina’s was no easy situation. Her parents had separated when she was nine, her adored mother had passed away a year later and the Quaid’s refusal to accept her choice of a life partner was a painful burden
The recent visit, during the cricket ODIs, of the Quaid-i-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah’s daughter, grandson and great-grandsons has received only fleeting media notice on the premise, apparently, that there was no political or public policy aspects or implications of the visit. Of considerable interest, however, is the emotional significance of the visit of the Quaid’s progeny in the troubled background of Dina’s relationship with her illustrious father, ever since her marriage.
For necessary perspective, a brief reference to the break-up of her parent’s marriage would be in order. Her mother Ruttee Jinnah could not have foreseen that the bonds of deep mutual affection and admiration which linked her to her distinguished spouse would be grievously tested by the demands of destiny which beckoned her life partner and which entailed total concentration on his lofty aims and Himalayan mission.
This had also happened to spouses of other outstanding leaders in the subcontinent and beyond. Kamla Nehru suffered grievously and died a premature death, her illustrious husband caught up in the vortex of India’s independence struggle. Kasturba suffered to a great extent; Mahatama Gandhi having forsaken even elementary matrimonial duties in his quest for spiritual greatness.
The list of outstanding historical figures who had little time for their spouses is long, though there are exceptions. This is how Violet Bonham Carter, a close friend of Winston Churchill, described Winston’s emotional dependence on his “sweet Clementine”. Wrote Violet Bonham Carter: “Clementine was the fire by which Winston warmed his hands and dried his tears. She was the night light by his bed. She was security!”
Dina Jinnah was born in London, shortly past midnight on August 14-15, 1919, interestingly enough, 28 years to the day and hour before the birth of “Jinnah’s other offspring, Pakistan”. During the early years of their life together, Ruttee Jinnah “even attended stormy political gatherings with her husband, sitting with him on the platform, a vivid reminder of all that Jinnah personally risked” during a period of revolutionary turmoil in India, in the words of Jinnah’s biographer, Stanley Wolpert.
Separation from her husband after a decade of married life and her sensitive nature may have accentuated serious problems of Ruttee’s physical health. Kanji Dwarkadas gives a touching portrait of the time when she was in a Paris nursing home, some months before her death in Bombay. He found her one early morning with a collection of Oscar Wilde, open on a poem which read, interalia, “Down the long and silent street, Dawn with silver sandalled feet, crept like a frightened girl!”, a reflection perhaps of her own state of mind. No wonder, Jinnah is said to have broken down and wept like a child when her body was lowered in the grave, according to Diwan Chaman Lal and other family friends.
It has been said that the Creator recalls earlier from this world those who have already fulfilled the destined test of mortal life. Perhaps Ruttee Jinnah, who died when only 30 (in 1929), was one of these special creatures. Although the Quaid survived her by about 19 years, during which he, in the words of Stanley Wolpert, “altered the course of history, modified the map of the world and created a new nation state”, a triple feat achieved by no one else, it would be safe to assume that in the deepest and most tender recesses of his heart, he sorely and frequently missed Ruttee, the only known love of his life.
Although Jinnah’s personal life, after the death of Ruttee, lost most of its gaiety and verve, he still responded to sincerity, sensitivity and genuine feeling. One instance is that of Sarojini Naidu, the Nightingale of India, one of his closest friends and admirers, who penned some of the most fulsome tributes to Jinnah that any man has ever received. It was Sarojini Naidu who described him as “the Ambassador of Hindu-Muslim Unity”and on the Quaid’s demise sent “an imperishable flower of memory to be placed on the grave of my dear, departed friend.”
Reverting to Dina, her’s was no easy situation. Her parents had separated when she was nine and her adored mother had passed away a year later. The Quaid’s refusal to accept her choice of a life partner was a painful burden which she carried. For obvious reasons, she must have been a heart-broken young woman when she came to Karachi in 1948 for her father’s funeral. The overwhelming sorrow of the surging millions at the funeral should have confirmed to her some of the sources of the Quaid’s strength and greatness.
The insistence by Dina Wadia and her family, on privacy, and a low profile during the recent visit, was understandable. With her son and grandchildren living in India, the need to eschew any political overtones was equally understandable. That the visit purely for cricket is, however, an excuse. The journey was apparently a journey of reconciliation, a last chance perhaps for the 85-year-old Dina to make her peace, not only with her father but also with the state he brought into being, a state, which, with all its faults, continues to be regarded as a major actor on the world scene. Which daughter would not long for a final farewell to her legendary father, a word of reconciliation, of letting bygones be bygones, of love and affection. How truly apt were the words “Sad and wonderful” used by Dina to describe her visit to her father’s last resting place. And which grandson would not wish to pay a homage to his grandfather who in the words of the London Times obituary, “had become a legend even during his lifetime.” Going beyond his mother who had noted that she prayed for the realization of her father’s dreams, Nuslie Wadia wrote that while his dream of visiting Pakistan had been realized, he hoped to come again to witness the further fulfilment of his grandfather’s dreams. Most befitting were the sentiments recorded by the Quaid’s great-grandchildren, Jehangir and Ness: “It is a great honour to be here. Thank you for everything,” they wrote.
Dina’s was no easy situation. Her parents had separated when she was nine, her adored mother had passed away a year later and the Quaid’s refusal to accept her choice of a life partner was a painful burden 
