The Value System that Sir Syed’s Aligarh Imbibes

It was a hot sweltering afternoon of July and a long walk from the main gate to the Waheed Jahan hostel. I was told that the road to a bright future went through this path. My wandering thoughts and the vulnerability of entering a new world almost isolated from the life I knew from before was weighing heavy. The temporary relief the shady trees on the sides provided gave way to the concrete path leading to another massive iron gate, which happened to be the entrance of my hostel. I felt lonely and unsure but had to pacify my teenage heart that everything would be fine soon.

The sadness of leaving your place, your family, your friends, and every familiar path often flows through sobs and tears and mine was no different. Behind me, I could hear the footsteps of a gate staff who was carrying my bedding and other luggage. As he came near, he softly spoke, ‘’Bibi (Miss), everyone who comes here sobs while entering the hostel and also weeps when bidding the hostel life goodbye, don’t worry you will be fine soon.” The surprising familiarity in his tone brought a faint smile on my face and I thanked him for his kind words. He spoke as if he knew me for long. It was momentarily comforting, though believing his words seemed naïve to me. In my head, I could never ever have imagined to love the place that looked so distant and cut off from the world I knew.

The hostel building was an old construction of red bricks that seemed more like an archaeological site. Juxtaposed to it was a newly constructed facility too, but I had the luck to get the room in the older one. Sometimes, you can’t help blaming your luck. Life was tough with every work to manage on your own and the codes for the fresher were further pressing. The code of conduct for the newly admitted students were a set of rules that hostel seniors made clear the moment a fresher entered the hostel. During the initial days, you couldn’t help feeling like a chicken hopelessly trying to escape the eyes of a senior looking to discipline you for the faintest slip. Among the many rules, there was one in particular which was the hardest to follow. It was to greet every staff – housekeeping, dining, gatekeeping, and others, every single time you pass by them. Honestly, it was maddening! Every single time, every minute or hour you pass by – seriously, what for?

Sometimes the workers busy in their mundane jobs didn’t even notice the ritual, and your ego took a beating. It was surprising though how you felt intimidated when someone did not notice you. Wonder now, how it would feel to remain insignificant and largely invisible to people for an entire life? Though we are taught in homes and schools to greet elders, but often the people at the end of the social ladder are given a pass and the etiquette lesson remains selective. So, why was it different at my alma mater, the Aligarh Muslim University? Some might think it was an overdo, but perhaps it was symbolic of a compensation of all the years of neglect, which this class of workers are subjected to. We often treat these backbones of our social fabric as an invisible multitude. We call them by generic identities, hardly aware of their proper names. No matter how much the rule of repetitive greeting felt difficult to follow, certainly there was a method to this apparent madness.

Looking back, I find the correlation between the story my father often narrated about a particular incident of Sir Syed’s childhood, and how it shaped the social milieu of the institution he created. It is said that once during his childhood, Sir Syed behaved rudely to a house help. It came to the notice of his mother. She did not like it and did not forgive him until he apologized to the worker. Only when we learn to identify, recognize, and respect the most oppressed and marginalized section of a society, the foundation of a just order can be structured. What better place than an institution to establish this order?

Often it is necessary to get some grey strands of hair to realize the philosophy of life through the prism of an idealist and reformer – Sir Syed. But even during those early years, the greeting exercise carved a tamer version of my teenaged self. Soon, the faces became more familiar and silently a large family, of individuals from diverse backgrounds, shaped up. In a few months it was common to hear a loud query from whoever passed the dining hall, “Khalil Bhai aaj khane mein kya hai” (Brother Khalil, what is for food, today?), and the ever-cheery Khalil Bhai replying, “Bibi Murgh Mussalam hai” (Miss, it is whole chicken for the meal), while both very well knew that the everlasting potato will grace the table when the dining hall doors open. Steadily, the omnivore in me settled to the low meat, low sweet diet with more ease than I thought.

What filled in the dearth of sumptuous delicacies were the care of friends who patiently waited for me to finish the meal every single time before they left the table, the one-year seniors who cared nonetheless like older siblings, and the lifelong buddies who accepted you as you are. From a few rooms away back then, to a few countries away, and the time lapse of a few decades, they still make the bunch of people who are at a call’s distance. The purity of these bonds owe a great deal to the mini-world it shaped in.

The milieu inside the gated walls offered everything different, yet it absorbed my restlessness, biases, and conceit. After spending five years in different hostels of the under graduate department, when it was time to move to a different facility for my post-graduation, I couldn’t hold back my tears, partly aware of what I was leaving behind. It was Vinod Bhai, yet again helping me with my luggage. In those five years and a couple more, I learned that for each year of my academic life there were people who unassumingly contributed without claiming their fair share over my life. Life away from family wouldn’t have been the same without their care. The institution of Aligarh did not just give me a qualification to sustain but a value system to live by.