By Ian Stephens *
I am going to term the great man, whom we have come here to commemorate Mr. Jinnah, because that is what he was mostly known as, throughout the time I had glimpses of him. Glimpses, I say, I had not much more, certainly I do not claim I knew him at all well. However, on occasions I did see him and, on some, meet and talk with him; and this, too, which was lucky for me, over a span of about seventeen history-shaping years, unique in South Asian affairs, between 1931 and 1948. Furthermore, my memories of these occasions, or some of them, still seem vivid – which I hope means, as well, that they are largely true – a supporting practical reason for that being, of course, a fact realized I suppose by everyone here: that he was a very exceptional person, in body and mind.
My first sighting was brief, but remains perhaps the clearest. I was young and impressionable, in my twenties only; I had been in India little more than a year. But though I am now well into my seventies, and it happened so long ago, that brief incident still seems fresh.
