Why Imran Khan will always be my hero
I idolised Imran Khan when I was in primary school, and I idolised him when I was in college.
I idolised Imran Khan when I was in primary school, and I idolised him when I was in college. Idolising Khan was part of the normal process of being a sports-loving child/teenager in late 1970s-early 1980s. Cricket, along with hockey, wrestling, boxing and squash, was hugely popular, and so were many sporting heroes. Love for Khan at that time was purely for his cricketing prowess, as it was for my other cricket giants: Vivian Richards and Clive Lloyd.
When in college, of course, I saw Khan as dashing, flamboyant (as per the tales of his romantic life), enigmatic despite being more popular than most movie stars of that time in all cricket-playing countries, shy despite being more pursued than the most eligible bachelor in the world – Prince Charles – in 1970s. Khan was an international heartthrob. And before that, Khan was one of the finest all-rounders of his time, before his time, and after his time.
I was a post-grad student when a friend, who was also one of Khan’s closest friends – when I was young I had many friends double my age as I considered myself more mature than people my own age – asked me if I’d like to volunteer for a campaign for fund-raising for a cancer hospital. I said yes, sort of, immediately once I was told who was building the hospital! And I was completely in once I knew the background of that project.
A cricket superstar was so affected by his mother’s long and painful battle with cancer that instead of wallowing in the lifelong agony of missing her, he decided to immortalise her name.
The idea of the Shaukat Khanum Memorial Trust (SKMT) came into existence in memory of Imran Khan’s mother, to provide state-of-the-art medical facilities to cancer patients who wished to be treated in Pakistan, and free of cost to those who couldn’t afford the exorbitant cost of cancer treatments. All over Pakistan, students volunteered for the campaign, and Imran Khan’s Tigers could be seen everywhere asking for a contribution for the building of the first-ever cancer hospital in Pakistan.
That was Imran Khan, the son who, using his status of Imran Khan the cricketer, managed to get children and young people of Pakistan to unite for a noble cause. Pakistan united to Khan’s call, encouraged by Khan’s personal monetary contribution, and the dream of SKMT’s cancer hospital, for which construction started in April 1991 on land donated by the then Chief Minister Nawaz Sharif’s government, became a reality on December 29, 1994.
Shaukat Khanum Memorial Cancer Hospital (SKNCH) and Research Centre provides free treatment to underprivileged patients, and that to me remains Imran Khan’s biggest contribution to Pakistan as a patriotic Pakistani, and one of Pakistan’s biggest philanthropists, albeit underrated and underappreciated.
I remember talking to Khan in 1991 about the 1992 World Cup, and despite being vague on details, I remember what he said: his dream to bring glory to Pakistan winning the last World Cup his fabulous team would play under his captaincy, and how that victory would help him bring attention to the cancer hospital he wanted to build.
I found his idealism endearing, thinking he was disarmingly honest about how he viewed the world. Of course the fact that he was utterly gorgeous made it easier to be riveted by the almost unrealistic romanticism of his dreams!
A little confession here: I knew in that moment that Pakistan under Khan’s captaincy would win the World Cup, and the cancer hospital in Khan’s mother’s memory to serve people would be made. Call it my faith in the man who, equipped with his tremendous talent, brilliant leadership qualities and perseverance, had a singular mission: to succeed.
And succeed he did: Pakistan won the 1992 World Cup on March 25 in Melbourne, Australia, and SKMCH became operational in Lahore in 1994.
When Khan announced his movement for justice and accountability in April 1996, and the formation of the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf (PTI), while appreciating the need to have a process of accountability in Pakistan, I didn’t follow PTI’s work then and later.
Being a naturally precocious child, I was un-childishly interested in politics from a very young age; how political realities affected the fate of millions of people and the power politicians and their decisions yielded always held a great deal of fascination for me.
Even at a young age, I knew Pakistan was not what it had the potential, the promise to be. Even as a teenager, I could see how most political manifestos were just cosmetic measures to advance plans of hegemony to mostly serve self-serving agendas of accumulation of assets and money.
It was refreshing to see one of Pakistan’s greatest sportsmen and Pakistan’s most famous celebrity to date stand up for accountability of administrative and monetary transgressions of the powers that be. Corruption was gnawing at Pakistan’s foundational stability; Khan became the most popular voice for elimination of corruption in Pakistan.
The painful realisation was yet to dawn: there were no takers for his crusade of justice, and his voice remained muffled in the cacophony of misleading slogans and nice-sounding but hollow promises of the leaders of the Pakistan People’s Party, Pakistan Muslim League and Pervez Musharraf. Khan remained an outsider.
For almost 15 years, Khan was considered a trifle annoyance, a political nobody, and the power remained the domain of two parties and one military dictator. Pakistan was still a poor country, and Pakistan is still a poor country. Not much changed.
In what is now considered a historic rally of October 30, 2011, Khan did what only Khan could do: unite Pakistanis to make a new Pakistan. The biggest phenomenon that emerged after that jalsa was the active presence of the youth of Pakistan in the prevalent political landscape.
In Khan, young Pakistanis saw a leader who led by example, who showed that pursuit of excellence was arduous but achievable, that persistence fueled the fight for change, that perseverance commanded success.
Khan announced the formation of a Naya Pakistan from the promise of an old Pakistan with its tremendous unutilised potential, and millions of Pakistanis promised to stand by him. Khan promised change, tabdeeli.
The result of the 2013 general elections was a blow to Khan, his party and supporters, but Khan’s fight for a Naya Pakistan continued. Everything that ensued wasn’t wonderful, all decisions taken by Khan weren’t admirable, and all his tactics weren’t praiseworthy. His demand of recounting of votes in four constituencies went unheeded, resulting in various protests and ending in a months-long dharna in Islamabad.
Some politicians with not so impeccable credentials joined the PTI, raising many questions about Khan’s stance of keeping his party clean from dubious elements from other parties. Some of Khan’s naively, some recklessly uttered statements, became a weapon to trivialise his significance as a national level leader who could rid Pakistan of diseased politics that did immeasurable harm to the life of the common Pakistani.
A few of Khan’s stances underwent “changes”, earning him the title of the master of U-turns. Khan’s personal life was highlighted and mocked by his political detractors when no financial impropriety could be proved against him in any court of law.
What generally goes unnoticed and unappreciated amid the systematic media campaigns to establish Khan as narcissistic and erratic is the work done in the PTI-governed Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) – reforms in healthcare, education, police; merit-based recruitments; micro-hydel projects for cheap electricity; the Billion-Tree Tsunami project; programmes for reduction of poverty.
Khan’s latest announcement, right before the general elections, to issue show-cause notices leading to expulsion of 20 of PTI MPAs in KP accused of vote-selling, though superficially hailed, is viewed as Khan’s political manipulation with no long-term political benefit.
Today, on April 29, 2018, at the Minar-e-Pakistan, Lahore, there is a PTI jalsa that is said to be another game-changer in the political landscape of Pakistan. Participation of people would be gauged as people’s faith in the leadership of Imran Khan and the PTI.
Is Khan being supported by the average Pakistani, an aam aadmi, a popular artist, a privileged young person, an educated professional, a wealthy businessperson, a young writer, a middle-aged social activist, an elderly intellectual, a budding political volunteer, a veteran politician, an idealistic genius, a fruit-seller?
Is Khan, 65, still the leader who can guide a fragile Pakistan to be a Naya Pakistan? Does an enlightened Pakistani – of any background – despite the reality of Khan’s flaws and errors of judgment, believe in Khan’s idealistic yet very real plans for betterment of Pakistan?
Do you believe Pakistan is Imran Khan’s all, and everything he is and has is because of and for Pakistan? And despite his very human flaws, he is only focused on making Pakistan the very best Pakistan can be? Do you think, not feel, that Imran Khan is the leader who can be the prime minister that would make you proud to be a Pakistani?
Going to or not going to a jalsa will not prove any of this to be factual or fictional. Only your vote will. Your vote will show what you think. Imran Khan should be or should not be the next prime minster of Pakistan, only your vote will decide that. Think. Decide. Vote. Your vote will change Pakistan.
And I, the eternal optimist, in my middle age, still retain some lingering idealistic idolisation of my childhood hero: Imran Khan.