The room where the PM receives me is airy; two French windows overlook the garden where roses are in bloom. Instead of sitting across an imposing desk he takes the sofa, imparting an air of informality. The decor is subtle, none of the outlandish Mughal decor of Nawaz Sharif or those imported crystals of Benazir Bhutto. Upholstery is in subtle shades of raw silk, the only decorative piece a silver artifact with a lapis lazuli set into it—and even this is in an adjoining room where I had to wait a few minutes before being ushered in.
Jamali has brought with him the great Baloch tradition of hospitality; the staff ensures that a glass of juice or a cup of tea is never far away. This is the first one-to-one interview the PM has consented to, declining individual requests even though the state media has reportedly been pestering him to at least make an appearance on television. An aide of Jamali quotes him telling the state media's representative: "What will I tell them? When I have something to say, then I will take such a step".
Jamali hasn't changed a bit since the last time I met him. He's jovial and confident, and for a few fleeting moments, I even forget I am interviewing the country's prime minister. None of his advisors sit with us, nor does he shy away from any question. Simple and straight. As always. This is precisely the attitude he needs to display to take the Opposition along with him.
Afterwards, interview over, as I am about to leave, the prime minister's secretary is ready to usher in a stream of overseas dignitaries. "Give the prime minister some time for lunch," I remark. "I don't eat lunch. I simply work," retorts Jamali. Excerpts from the interview: