Alright, so picture this: We’re back in the groovy 50s. Harvard. A time when everything seemed possible and the world was dressed in shades of sepia. You’ve got the Aga Khan, a dude with a title that feels like it should belong in a James Bond movie, strolling through the ivy-laden paths of Harvard. And who does he bump into? None other than Pierre Trudeau—yes, the one with the cool hair and witty comebacks who later sat in Canada’s big chair. Fast forward to a crazy year, 1972. Uganda’s kicking out Asians like they just made a bad pun, and the Aga’s on the phone with his old buddy Trudeau. And what does Mr. Trudeau say? “C’mon over, bring your crew.” Canada rolls out a welcome mat for thousands of Ismaili Muslims. Like opening the door for an unexpected but welcome guest bringing exotic food you’ve never tried but can’t wait to devour.
And boom—Ismailis are weaving themselves into the Canadian tapestry. Some grab the mic and speak against the wave of extremism. Others are like refreshing characters in a novel you didn’t expect to love but do anyway. They’re everywhere, knitting new stories into the fabric of Canada’s public life, adding a little spice and wisdom, holding their ground when needed.
Now, if you wander into that stunning Aga Khan Museum in Toronto (seriously, it’s like stepping into a fairy tale with silk cushions and melody of history), or the more serene Ismaili Centre in Ottawa, you get introduced to a different vibe. Young Ismailis—younger, booted-up with enthusiasm—might tell you about the art without sounding like they’re trying to sell you a relic. They’ll chat about their sect too. But here’s the twist—they’re not trying to recruit you into some secret society meetings. They’re just glad to share, chat, and let the art, and themselves, do the talking.
