The Shah of Iran and Queen Soraya are shown the manuscripts housed in the Manuscripts Section of the Maulana Azad Library by Maulana Saiyid Sibtul Hasan, the founder-Incharge of the Section, and Dr Zakir Husain, the then VC AMU, who later became the first President of India associated with AMU. Also seen are many dignitaries of AMU of the 1950s - Facebook
Reminiscences from a Bygone Era
By Dr Syed Amir
Bethesda, MD
In the early fifties, Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) went through a critical phase when its very existence as an academic Muslim institution was threatened. The Indian Government, primarily the UP Government, blamed it for contributing to the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan. At this critical time, Maulana Azad and Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru persuaded Dr Zakir Husain to leave Jamia Millia Islamia, Delhi, to which he had dedicated his life, and take over the helm of AMU.
Dr Zakir Husain was an AMU alumnus and, perceiving his alma mater's danger, agreed to move to Aligarh. His presence at the university restored tranquility and reassured the militants in the UP Government that Aligarh was no longer a hotbed of Pakistani supporters. Zakir Sahib was very interested in gardens and greenery, and soon after his arrival, the University’s landscape was transformed; all empty spaces were filled with flowers and foliage.
At the time of independence, I was a school student in Sahaswan (Budaun), my hometown, where my ancestors had lived for five centuries. The upheavals in India and dwindling employment opportunities for the Muslim community had my father worried about my future. He wanted me to follow my ancestral profession. For three generations, my forbearers had been practitioners of medicine. Much hope of my attending medical school rested in the expectation that a new medical school would be established by the time I graduated. Although the vice-chancellor, Dr Zia Uddin Ahmad’s heroic efforts to raise funds were successful, the upheaval in the aftermath of partition scuttled the project.
As my graduation at AMU drew near, I had to decide which direction to pursue. Being poor in mathematics and physics, an engineering degree was not for me. In any case, I would not have succeeded in the open competition for highly coveted slots at the engineering college. My cousin, Syed Iradat Husain, who was in England for advanced banking training, suggested I take a post-graduate course in geology. In the fifties, several US and European petroleum companies were drilling for gas or oil exploration in Pakistan. There was much hope that the oil and gas reservoirs already discovered in Iran and the Gulf States were very likely to exist in the adjoining areas of Pakistan. These companies were looking for Pakistani geologists. Alas, the hope proved forlorn, and within a few years, these companies packed up and left.
The Geology Department at AMU had only a few seats for MSc courses, and I could not get admitted. In retrospect, it turned out to be the best development for me, as the job opportunities for geologists in Pakistan dwindled and then disappeared altogether.
I applied for admission to the Chemistry Department. The Department in the fifties was very different than now. The facilities were primitive, and we spent most of our time in the analytical laboratory, analyzing salt mixtures that had no utility in later years. We had a few dedicated teachers with PhD degrees. Dr Akhlaq ur Rehman Kidwai, a young man who recently returned from the US, taught us biochemistry using modern techniques. He later became chairman of the Public Services Commission and Governor of Behar.
The other revered teacher was Dr Waheed Uddin Mallick, who taught us inorganic and physical chemistry. He had a
phenomenal memory and could remember the most complex and illogical formulas of inorganic compounds. Dr Mallick was a kind teacher. He suffered from chronic acidity, for which he drank anti-acid mixtures during his class.
The most colorful personality on the faculty was the chairman, Dr Omar Farooq, a short but intimidating figure. An eccentric man, he was known to stop students randomly and admonish them for not greeting him appropriately, Luknow style. He had done no serious teaching in years and had forgotten basic organic chemistry. Yet, he took a one-hour-long MSc final class in a seminar room that had no blackboard, spending the hour talking about subjects unrelated to chemistry. At the time, the culture in academic institutions was such that no one dared to raise their voice in protest.
In their final year, MSc students were required to work on a research project and assigned to a senior faculty member for guidance. To my dismay, Professor Farooq chose me to work with him. However, I never saw him in my laboratory, and he never came to discuss my project. My final results were unsurprisingly not as good as I would have liked.
The University, in general, was a splendid place for social interactions and making friends, and most of us carry abiding memories of the days we spent there. Aligarh’s storied student life has been captured in several books by renowned author and teacher Rashid Ahmad Siddiqui. More recently, Mohammed Zakir Ali Khan, an engineer who was instrumental in establishing the Sir Syed University of Engineering and Technology in Karachi, has written a delightful book, Riwayat e Aligarh, in a lighter vein, about life at Aligarh before independence. Alas, both authors are now deceased.
Many world leaders and ruling monarchs visited the university during my time. King Saud of Saudi Arabia, King Raza Shah Pahlavi of Iran, and his wife, Queen Soraya, were among them. The young King and Queen of Iran made a dashing couple. King Saud reportedly bestowed golden watches on those who had served him during his brief stay.
Elections to the Student’s Union, founded on the Cambridge University Debating Society pattern, were a yearly landmark event when we saw great excitement, with brisk canvassing for various honorary positions on the Union cabinet. The Student Union was also where highly honored guests were invited to give a talk and were lauded by the elected vice president. The Union had a quaint tradition observed while welcoming special guests. As the guest stood up to address the students, he/she was showered with flower petals cascading through a skylight like snowflakes, baffling and enthralling the unwary guest.
In January 1935, the famous Turkish writer and political activist Khalida Adeeb Khanum came to India on a lecture tour at the invitation of Dr Mukhtar Ahmad Ansari, the leader of the Indian National Congress. During her two-month stay, she visited various cities and met many people. She compiled her impression in a memoir, Inside India, which showcases her remarkable insight into people and events. She also visited AMU during her tour and was welcomed at the Union.
She was delighted by the sight of students in Turkish coats, white trousers, and red Turkish caps, the official uniform at the time. An even greater surprise awaited her; she wrote, “When I stood up to speak, I was drowned in a deluge of flowers. I could neither open my mouth nor my eyes. This display of affection for an aged Turkish woman was overwhelming and moved me greatly.”
AMU has grown and changed dramatically since I was a student there decades ago. Gender segregation was then the policy; a woman serving on the faculty was unheard of. Dr Naima Khatoon, a woman, has recently been appointed vice-chancellor for the first time . Before her, Sultan Jahan Begum of Bhopal served as the chancellor (not vice-chancellor) following the inauguration of the University in December 1920. This welcome development augurs well for the future advancement of Muslim women in India.
(Dr Syed Amir is a former Assistant Professor, Harvard Medical School, and a health science administrator, US National Institutes of Health)
