MicroPakistan

This is a ‘what if?’ poem about what it would have been like if Jinnah had become an MP in Britain during his time in the 1920s-30s in London instead of going back to British India and creating Pakistan. Feel free to comment and interpret.

The land of his birth is but a distant memory.
All that remains of India is mere sensory.
He is a long, long way away-
Where cold is the night,
And foreboding the day.

Sashaying suavely in his Savile Row
He cuts a dashing silhouette.
After all, he has places to go,
And little to regret.

It seems like a lifetime
When he fought for the countrymen.
In Gandhi have they sought
Afresh a lifeline.
Yet still, the man has little to regret.

Now he dines in Belgravia Square
And remonstrates in Hyde Park.
He is enjoying all the glares
For it keeps at bay the impending dark.

Life at the Bar has been arduous,
To thrive he has been ingenious.
A workhorse with flair
A polymath sans compare.

Yet Big Ben beckoned
And the green seats pined.
Like sirens they harkened,
So too did his instinct sharpen.

Kings and Ministers hold him in esteem;
The sophistication is infectious.
In ties of silk and suits of cream
As a Pied Piper he leads the crowd to bliss.

The future is foreboding.
Across the oceans storm clouds brew
And revolution is in the air.
What would he give to be there?

Yet he does not care.
That was an eterntiy ago,
When he was impassioned
About a cause he no longer champions.

“I have made my life here”,
The Privy Council don declares.
The sun may be setting,
But here there are no bleak nightmares.

He has turned a different corner now
Not so keen on why, but how.
In his voice is the same mesmerism
Like resplendent light emanating from
A heavenly prism.
Crystalline are his thoughts,
Symbols of all he has wrought.

He does not care for his critics
Nor is he blinded by the infinite possibilities.
The world is his oyster, the universe his sea.
Not a Quaid-e-Azam, no;
Just plain M.A. Jinnah MP.