Jamia ka Tarana

Jamia ka Tarana

Mar 8, 2007

Nostalgia...Past tense.

Iam here to start posting the golden memories of student hood.
There is no body without those unforgettable moments.
So!! why to wait?
lets begin from here.
Who knows these memories from different people at different time in jamia turned out to be an asset!


  1. A sheer joy of treading into the nostalgic ways of our very own place of learning and growing! It was pleasure visiting this blog and I express my gratitude for making a hallmark effort to tie all of us into one world one family.. the name itself spells out Jamia ' An Association / A cooperative', unity in diversity in deed!!!

    Benevolent wishes..

    Iqbal Azim

  2. This I wrote in summer season...

    Sitting in my cabin & looking out from the window, bright sun out side with scorching heat & killing humidity in this part of the world.
    Tried to concentrate on two sparrows came from some where in search of water, dripping out from the loose tap of my front garden.
    Suddenly a wave of thought overcomes my senses & I went straight away in 1980’s.
    Not one but so many sparrows & different kind of species around us because this is not Dubai, this is New Delhi & precisely the compound of Jamia Millia Islamia, My Institution.
    Lush green compound of middle & senior secondary school with the concrete corridor in centre dividing both the school in half but without any boundaries.
    High tress of ashoka & amaltas always green(except for autumn) & give shed while students were used to sit there in recess period.
    Twelve years are associated with that compound & I remember that I never fed up with that area during those 12 years.
    There are hundred & thousands of memories unlimited associated with those golden twelve years & I cant write every thing although I never forget a single happening.
    It was a bright morning in 1984 & I was in Xth standard & the section was ‘C’.
    That particular section was famous for their extra curricular activities & outstanding academic results.
    It was situated almost on the border of school boundary & close to Ansari health center with adjoin school canteen where no one comes except for newly tempted pairs from college, It was a sort of dating place & hide out.
    There was one girl who use to wear abaya & comes from old Delhi, she was good friend of us & her name was Tasleem nahid, she use to remove abaya to attend classes.
    Asjad majeed zahoori, one of my close friend stolen her abaya & wore it.
    He then went on a round & every body was looking at her because it was totally unusual to have girl of such height in school with men’s shoes & masculine walking.
    Every body noticed her/him, few ignored & few who understand they laughed.
    Suddenly on the way back to our class our teacher & his father Mr.majeed sb appeared from somewhere, he was also heading towards class & saw the girl walking at extra ordinary speed & chased by the boys.
    He cautioned her to stop & Asjad recognized his voice & start running, every body was looking & laughing at him because we saw first time a girl in abaya who was running.
    The girl (asjad) didn’t found any place to hide her self & then what she did was really an episode that will remain in every body’s memory forever.
    There was a masonry grave near our classroom & beside there was a tree & Asjad found no place other than tree & he climbed on it.
    Mr.Majeed sb was astonished with that action & curiously stopped there & start looking upward & realized that she wasn’t a she,
    He shouted at him & asks him to come down, now it was another examination for asjad because he has to reply & if he replies then majeed sb can recognized him.
    For around five minutes he was ordering him to come down & then asking him to utter a word but it was asjad who become mum & was replying by the moments only.
    We were around & he ask who is he but no body dares to tell him that “who” is nobody other than his own son.
    Finally he left without any fruit & asjad came down & we offered him water. He given the abaya back to Tasleem nahid & swear to not try such thing in future, but it was temporary & next day came with another funny episode.
    May be Majeed sb will read this after 21 years & come to know about his son who is now a doctor & father of three beautiful kids.

  3. The following is an article by senior jamiaets(Aziz Akhtar Bhai)in Dubai, Son of One of the Life member of JAMIA MILLIA ISLAMIA.
    I Hope it is worth reading.

    THOSE WERE THE DAYS..........
    A telephone call from Zubair is always welcome. that is the reason why, when he called me the other day, i pressed 'Yes' on my cell unhesitatingly. his voice, as usual, was cheerful but the context of his talk was not. He wanted me to write something about Jamia. Though he had gift wrapped it in the form of a 'request', but I could smell the 'order' behind it. I tried to wriggle out of it, citing, the work load, etc. (the usual stuff), but as a true Jamiaet he persisted. Not finding any escape route, I agreed, hoping that he would forget. But then, you know Zubair. a few days later he called again. this time the gift wrap had gone. the 'request' had almost become a 'threat'. I agreed on a deadline with all good intentions. but you know how it is. the deadline came and went with no reminder from him. I relaxed, hoping that he had given up. but last night when I was sleeping a message came on my cell phone, which read : "Kahan se laaoon, sabree hazrate, Ayub ae Aziz - Waqt guzra, printing pending, article nadarad"! Now this was serious. Somebody was becoming a 'Shaaer'. i had to do something so here i am.
    The basic question, which was responsible for this delay is still there. How does one write 'something about Jamia'? 'Jamia has always meant' a lot of things to me. Unfortunately, I belong to the Jamia with which many of our young Jamaees will not be familiar with. It was small, it was beautiful. there was something about Jamia which i have not found anywhere else. The warmth, the sicerity, the one-ness, the sense of belonging and a very very special atmosphere. there were certain unique activities which the other schools try to follow but the difference is huge. Which school has 'Khuli Hawa ka Madrasa', 'Taleemi mela', 'One day school', ' Mud Day', and full fledged elections- even at the primary school level?!!!! In which school do students learn without a text book till class VI. In which schools do class I students look after animals in their own mini-zoo? Where will you find class four students managing a bank, class V students the 'Khwancha' (tuck shop). and class VI th e poultry farm? where else have you seen the entire primary school engaged in gardening a and selling their own produce? Which principal anywhere in the world will have the confidence in his students to hand them the entire academic and administrative work- right from cleaning the toilets, hostels, class rooms and the entire campus to teaching seriously in class rooms, to managing the office, while the principal, the entire teaching, administrative and ancillary staff go far away on a picnic?!! There cannot be many institutes or schools whose products, without exception, will be honest under really difficult situations, helpful to even strangers, respectful to the elders and ladies, helpful to even strangers, most open minded and truly secular. Well all this and much more was Jamia. It pains me to use the past tense but those of you who are familiar with Jamia of the fifties and sixties would know what I mean.
    I was inspired by my teachers. From Mehboob Saheb who taught me in class I to Sayyed Ahmed Ali Saheb who was my teacher in class VI to Batra Saheb and Faiz Saheb who taught us mathematics, and Ms. Kamlesh Daniel (popularly known as K.D.) who had the unenviable task of teaching us english to class XI students in Jamia, where we had started learning out english alphabets in class VI! they were all truly 'great teachers' and extremely good 'human beings'. I guess in the Jamia of those days, the two were synonymous - for you cannot be 'great teacher without being a good human being'.
    Inspired by those teachers, I chose teaching as a profession and have not regretted it. Where ever I work, I try to give a 'bit of Jamia' to that school. But it can only be a bit because giving everything is impossible now. this i consider my humble contribution towards the debt I owe to Jamia for giving me eleven wonderful years of my life.

  4. Following is the article writen by Sulaiman, one of my junior & now a successful engineer,responsible father & a cheerfull person.
    I asked him to contrbute his thoughts for a purpose & posting the same here on this blog.

    My Golden days with My Jamia Millia Islamia

    Assalam O Alaikum Jamiates,

    Myself Sulaiman Akhtar.I am an ex-student of Jamia Millia Islamia,New Delhi since class Nursery.
    Our Nursery was located near present VC office which is now turned into Computer Centre.My batch was the last in that Nursery after that it was shifted to the current location.I remember Abdullah Bhai who use to drop me to my home on his bicycle and we students often use to tease him as “Abdullah Bhai…….Paaan Khai”

    For me Jamia is my Home Univerity.My Grand father Late Mr.Barkat Ali Firaq was one of the founder member of Jamia Millia Islamia.So he was attached with Jamia when it has taken birth from Aligarh,then moved to Karol Bagh and finally based in Okhla (now called as Jamia Nagar).

    My father Mr Asif Ali,Uncle-Mr Arif Ali, second Uncle Mr Aamir Ali,My phoopis, Mrs Aisha Khatoon,Mrs Anjum Ara and Mrs.Maimoona Parveen ,my cousins and we all brother and sisters were educated through out our education from Jamia Millia Islamia.

    My Phoophi Mrs.Aisha khatoon was a teacher in Jamia Middle School and Higher Secondary as well.
    My Uncle Mr. Arif Ali is Head of the department now a days in Bio Sciences in Jamia Millia Islamia.

    My Grand father Late Mr Barkat Ali Firaq was also a History Lecturar in old Jamia.He expired in 1978.

    So we all were very much attached to Jamia since our childhoods and born and brought up in “Jamae”envirnment.

    I remember lots of sweat memories during my studies from Jamia,few of them I would like to refresh with you Jamiates.

    When I was in Primary School,there was only lorry of Jamia which was an American “Chevrolet”Truck .Our teachers,students,my Dadi, etc all were use to go on picnics in the same lorry with raising slogans” Hamari Picnic Zindabad, Jamia Lorry Zndabad’

    After some period I found that lorry parked Idle in the garage for so many years.It was no more functional.Whenever I use to saw that lorry I felt bad about that,why it is not running.

    Now that lorry is still there but in dismantled roof,chassis,engine in parts.When o moved into college I performed my smithy shop practicals under the roof of the same lorry which is present at Jamia Polytechnic lab.I performed my Automobile practicals on the same lorry engine and studied on it.

    Now I am working in Dubai in Automobile Industry with Chevrolet Cars and trucks.I found that kind of lorrys here with pepsi factory in Al Qouz.When that lorry came to me for repairs I had tears in my eyes thinking of our same “Jamia Chevrolet Lorry” on which I traveled in my childhood and studied on it.

    I was an average student throughout.I was shy in my nature. I still remember of our “Bachon Ka Bank”,”Khane ka MATBAQ”,”Pyam-e-Taleem”&”Umang” magazines.Those taranas in morning assemblies, Performing exercise with Mr Aaftab Sir commanding in his unique style“ HOO-Shiyaar” &“AA- Raam”.(attention & at ease)

    Taking part in “Ek Din Ka Madarsa”, ”KHUWANCHAS”,Performing Guard of Honour to VC on 29th October every year, getting sweets on annual day.

    My dad was a stage artist since his schooling and college time. All those old students and collegues of my father like Khalid Saifullah Sb, Ikram Sb, Masood Sb. Etc, use to perform stage dramas in the open air theatre at Fine Arts Department on the occasion of Jamia Birthday.

    My Phoopi Aisha madam and her daughters(my cousins) always took parts in “Bait Bazi” debates and we students always with our paintworks and handicrafts converted the Jamia walls and other event parts into beautiful scenario.

    Mr Shakeel Kakwi,who made “Science Aur kainat Club” is also not to forget.We students use to take part in Science Exhibitions held every February on the occasion of Dr. Zakir Hussains Birth day.

    I remember one incident when I was in class 11th .I often use to sing filmi songs in the empty classroom during our interval time to get the ECHO effect and concentration. My friends also use to listen my songs. When there was a time to give farewell party to our seniors, my friends pumped me that I do sing very well and should take part in the coming farewell party. Then what.. I was on high skies. I gave my name for a solo song for the event.

    I remember the song,it was “ Aate Jaate,…, Hanste Gaate,…,Socha Tha Meine Man mein Kai Baar,…” from the movies “Maine Pyaar kiya”.I listened to that song for so many times in order to learn it by heart and also put down on piece of paper so that not to forget the words and lyrics on stage.

    That day arrived and I was put on the open air theatre stage.My hands and legs were shivering and I was sweatting in cold weather.It was my first ever performance to sing on stage.I started the song without any background music and completed first stanza somehow.But you know hooting from back stage is everybodys birth right,who can stop that.Same thing was happening with me during my singing as a result I was more nervous and my voice was shivering.

    When I was about to start the second stanza………!!!!!!!???????? I forgot the “dhun” of the second stanza of song . I made beautiful excuse on stage that due to this hooting I am not going to complete my song and came out of the stage. But that was not the end to it. My seniors requested the audience to keep silent and put me back on stage to complete my song. But by that time I was trying to recollect the “dhun” for the secong stanza but was unable to remember that time, so I started the song from the beginning again.The hooting as usual started again. But this time there was no excuse for me. So I tried to sing the second stanza from the piece of paper but made it more than worst from its original track. I was hooted badly for that.

    From that day I decided to join Ustaad Zameer sb. Who was Music teacher in Middle School.Days turned in my favour and when I moved to college,I performed a song with full orchestra on stage in my fresher’s party .That performance was so good that I became famous for my voice in singing in my college. After that I did many performances in Jamia, outside Jamia, on TV program”Bazm”as well.

    After my Diploma in Mechanical Engineering in 1995 I started working in Delhi and joined B.E. Mechanical from jamia Engg. College evening Course which I passed out in year 2000.

    I am not getting proper words to express my feelings but yes I have all those golden memories of Jamia in my heart.

    I hope you Jamiaetes enjoy this specially those who were with Jamia since Nursery or Schooling and have same kind of memories with them.

    Take care,

    Allah Hafiz



Jamia ka tarana (english)

This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
This is where men with zeal stayed
Men who answered the leaders' call
It is here that torn-off love
Found the cohesive chords
It is here that wayward passions
Formed into frenzied love
It is here that the wild tulip learnt
How to make the scar of heart aglow
This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
This is the place of men of vision
And of those with a challenging thought
Every morning here is new
And every evening newer still
Different is this tavern
And different are its norms
Different are the dancing cups
And different is their dance
Here drinking begets thirst a new
And different is this tavern's call
This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
Here, conscience is the beacon light
And conscience is the guide
Here is the Mecca of heart resides the guiding faith
Ceaseless movement is our faith
And blasphemy it is to stay still
Here, the destined goal is the march on and on
Here, the swimming urge seeks
Newer and newer storms
Restless wave itself is our resurrected shore

Translated by: Prof. M. Zakir