(Bombay, 1922-1928 – The Unraveling of Jinnah and Rattanbai's Marriage)
---
The Cracks Appear
The first fracture manifested subtly—a missed anniversary. August 19, 1922, marked four years since Jinnah and Rattanbai's wedding. Rattanbai had arranged a intimate dinner at the Taj, hiring musicians to play their song—a Ghazal by Mir Taqi Mir that Jinnah had once quoted in a love letter.
Fatima, enlisted as conspirator, kept Jinnah occupied at her clinic until the appointed hour. But at 7 PM, a messenger arrived breathless: "The Legislative Council debate on the Rowlatt Act extensions has been moved up—Mr. Jinnah sends apologies."
Rattanbai sat alone until midnight, the Parsi feast congealing on silver platters. When Fatima arrived, she found her sister-in-law staring at the sea, still wearing her wedding pearls.
"He forgot Emibai's death anniversary too," Rattanbai said tonelessly. "Some griefs are so deep they leave no room for others."
---
The Political Widowing
As Jinnah's political career consumed him, Rattanbai became a "political widow"—a term whispered at kitty parties with pitying glances. Their arguments took on a familiar rhythm:
"You promised to take Dina to the zoo."
"The Hindu-Muslim unity conference cannot wait."
"Our daughter is growing up without a father."
"I am building a nation for her."
One afternoon, Fatima discovered Rattanbai burning her society gowns in the garden incinerator.
"What are you doing?"
Rattanbai's eyes were hollow. "He says my parties distract from his work. No more parties, no more distractions."
The stench of melting silk hung in the air for days.
---
The Language of Silence
The house on Malabar Hill grew silent as a tomb. Jinnah buried himself in law books; Rattanbai took to painting morbid canvases—still lifes of wilting flowers, portraits of Dina with prematurely old eyes.
They communicated through notes left on silver trays:
"Gandhi dining Tuesday. No beef."
"Dina has fever. Doctor coming."
"Your mother visited. I told her you were dead." (This last one made Jinnah actually smile—a rare crack in his armor.)
Fatima became their interpreter. She translated Rattanbai's artistic despair into political warnings ("The Hindus think you're too Muslim, the Muslims think you're too Hindu") and decoded Jinnah's legal jargon into wifely reassurances ("He's fighting for women's property rights—see, he hasn't forgotten you").
---
The Other Woman
The real rival wasn't another person but an idea—Pakistan. Though the term hadn't yet been coined, the vision already consumed Jinnah. Fatima often found him pacing at dawn, muttering about separate electorates and constitutional safeguards.
"He talks in his sleep now," Rattanbai confessed. "Last night he shouted 'Liaquat!' and grabbed my wrist so hard it bruised." She showed the purple marks. "He thought I was his deputy."
The final blow came during Dina's fifth birthday party. Jinnah arrived three hours late, still wearing court robes. When Dina demanded a piggyback ride, he absently handed her a legal brief.
"Study this instead, child. It's your inheritance."
Rattanbai's scream startled the pigeons from the roof: "She is a little girl, not your damned constituency!"
That night, Rattanbai packed a suitcase. "I'm taking Dina to Paris."
Jinnah didn't look up from his drafting. "The French are worse colonizers than the British. I won't have my daughter exposed—"
"Then come with us!"
Silence.
"I thought so," she said, and closed the suitcase.
---
The Intervention
Fatima staged an intervention using the only language Jinnah respected: data. She presented a meticulously compiled dossier:
· 37: Number of nights Jinnah slept at home this year
· 92: Rattanbai's resting heart rate (clinical anxiety)
· 5: Dina's drawings featuring "Daddy's ghost"
· 1: Times Rattanbai visited a palmist about divorce
Jinnah flipped through the pages, his face unreadable. "You've become quite the researcher."
"Someone had to document the collapse," Fatima shot back. "History will blame her, you know. They'll say the Parsi socialite couldn't handle married life."
For the first time, Jinnah looked shaken. "What would you have me do? Abandon the cause?"
"Take them with you to London for the Round Table Conference. Let Rattanbai be your hostess. Let Dina see Big Ben."
He agreed—not because he wanted to save his marriage, but because the data convinced him.
---
The London Disaster
The trip was a catastrophe. Rattanbai, accustomed to Bombay's adoration, found herself ignored by British society. At one reception, Lady Willingdon asked, "And what dialect does your people speak, my dear?"
Dina caught chickenpox and was quarantined. Jinnah, embroiled in negotiations, visited only once—wearing a surgical mask that terrified the child.
The breaking point came when Jinnah canceled their planned family excursion to Shakespeare's birthplace for a emergency meeting with Muslim delegates.
Rattanbai sold her emerald necklace and took Dina to Stratford-upon-Avon alone. There, she penned the letter Fatima would later find among her effects:
"I married a giant and became his shadow. Now even the shadow is fading."
---
The Last Night
Their final argument occurred in their London hotel suite. Fatima, staying next door, heard every word through the thin walls:
"You care more about Muslims you've never met than your own flesh and blood!"
"These people are being slaughtered in the streets!"
"And what of the slaughter in our home? In our bed?"
A door slammed. Then—the sound that still haunted Fatima—the unmistakable crack of a palm striking flesh.
Silence.
When Fatima rushed in, she found them frozen in a tableau: Jinnah's hand raised, Rattanbai's cheek blooming red, Dina weeping in the corner.
No one moved until Rattanbai said quietly, "Now you have hit me. Now it is finished."
Jinnah's hand fell. He looked at it as if it belonged to someone else.
---
The Aftermath
They returned to Bombay as strangers. Rattanbai moved into the guest wing; Jinnah worked from his club. Only Dina traversed both worlds, carrying messages like a tiny diplomat:
"Mummy says you forgot her allergy to lilies."
"Daddy says wear the green saree to the governor's dinner."
Fatima tried to piece them back together—arranging family dinners, suggesting joint holidays—but some fractures defy repair.
One evening, she found Rattanbai burning her wedding photos in the same incinerator that had consumed her gowns.
"Don't," Fatima begged.
Rattanbai watched the flames consume Jinnah's smiling face. "Why? He already burned the marriage."
As the fire died, she whispered the truth that would define the rest of their lives: "We both loved him too much. But he only loved the idea of us."
---
Historical Anchors:
1. Rowlatt Act Debates - Actually extended in 1922
2. London Round Table - Jinnah attended 1930-1932 conferences
3. Marital Strain - Documented by biographers like Hector Bolitho
4. Cultural Context - Parsi-Muslim tensions exacerbated stresses
Key Themes:
· Political vs Personal - The cost of ideological devotion
· Miscommunication - The silence between public and private selves
· Documenting Decline - Fatima's clinical approach to emotional collapse