'Memoirs and Recollections of An Officer of the Indian Political Service' [‎74r] (147/156)

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$ 2 )
To revert to the death of Mohd All Jinnah and the subsequent obsequies, an account
of which stood me in such good stead at Burlington House. He had become a very ill
man in the week that followed the attainment of his life-long ambition - the creation
of an Islamic State in the sub-continent. In September, suffering from tuberculosis,
he was flown to Ziarat, a hill station in Baluchistan, and thence to Quetta. On the
29th, he was flown back to Karachi - a dying man. Officially he died that night, but
by many it was believed that he was already dead when he arrived. The next day the
public learntof his passing and the city of Karachi was plunged into lamentation. I
think that the High Commissioner must have been away, but in any event I went with two
other members of the staff to pay our official respects at Government House, where
we were told that the n Quaid-i-Azam n was lying in state. It was besieged by hordes
of highly excited mourners, who had forced their way into the Palace, past the police
guards and the military sentries. Everyone - not just the officials and the generals,
but also the man in the street, many of whom were refugees from up-country - wanted
to have one last glimpse of their great leader and demi-god. The pandemonium and the
crush were indescribable. When, with great difficulty, we had fought our way into the
great Durbar A public or private audience held by a high-ranking British colonial representative (e.g. Viceroy, Governor-General, or member of the British royal family). Hall where the crush and wailing was at its height, we found that the
corpse was lying on a simple bier in the centre of the room. I saw one man, in no
way disrespectfully, jump across the body to get a better view from the other side.
My friend and I struggled through the crowds to get to our car. We had been told that a
funeral procession would be formed to take the body of the Governor General to the
place selected for his burial some miles outside the city. We got there first. It was
a bare stony hillside with no other buildings nearby. Owing to the secrecy which had
surrounded the illness of Jinnah, no preparation of any kind had been made in advance to
provide him with any sort of resting place. The hillside had never before been used as
a cemetery, but someone had had the foresight that morning to send out a gang of grave
diggers to prepare the ground. Owing to the rocky nature of the soil, they could make
no impression with their ordinary picks and shovels. While we watched, the procession
could be seen approaching in the distance; only then was an urgent demand sent back to
Karachi for a couple of pneumatic drills. When these arrived the head of the procession
had reached the hillside. Somehow the multitude was kept in check while the grave was
dug. At a guess I would say that half a million people came to the hillside that after
noon to pay their last respects. The religious excitement was so intense that we soon
decided that it was no place for us, white men and Christians. We returned to Karachi in
a chastened and sorrowful mood - it had been a macabre occasion.
By this time, the British High Commission was fully staffed and in operation. Duties
had been apportioned to each one of us. I continued to deal with the multifarious
administrative problems - staffing, accommodation and liaison with the Pakistan Ministry
of Foreign Affairs. In time I was appointed Head of Chancery. Now that a number of us
were newly recruited to the Foreign Service, we were keen to find out about our new