سب کہاں کچھ لالہ و گل میں نمایاں ہو گئیں
خاک میں کیا صورتیں ہوں گی کہ پنہاں ہو گئیں
As part of the course evaluation, each student was required to deliver a seminar at the end of the term and articulate their thoughts for about two minutes. To speak in front of this formidable lady—this temple of language, literature, and its lasting legacy—was no small feat. With her spectacles perched on the tip of her nose, eyebrows raised in quiet calculation (was she impressed by our thoughts?), and a subtle smile as she took notes, we were granted the privilege of speaking in her presence.
Our seminar question on Mirza Ghalib’s course was: Ghalib: aik ‘aalam sab se alag. And I, the needless deep thinker and truth digger, somehow remembered only the latter half.
“Aap kyaa puray ‘aalam pe likh kar le ayi hain?”
The auditorium dared to chuckle at her witticism, at the expense of my witlessness. And yet, in that moment—as I saw her listening intently and appreciatively to what I had to say—I experienced a subtle but certain epiphany: that Dr. Arfa and I would go a long way. I quietly upgraded myself to becoming her discreet disciple.
The above shai’r was one of her absolute favourites from Ghalib. I fondly remember how she would recite it, entranced—fascinated by the contrapuntal radif and the closing in of its qafiyah. Through her course, and her impeccable command of the man and his works, she demonstrated how Ghalib was a stoic iconoclast, not the jaded cynic he is so reductively remembered as.
A dedicated iconoclast herself, she made us recalibrate our understanding of Iqbal, Faiz, Mir Taqi Mir, Momin Khan Momin, to name a few. She also enabled us to see the notoriously dark—and dismissively labelled debauched—works of Manto, Ismat Chughtai, Mumtaz Mufti, Intizar Hussain, among others, in a very different, if not didactic, light.
All the while, she was perhaps justifying why literature in Urdu is called adab, and what it therefore means to discern—and to discern with delicate discretion. That slight fine-tuning of perspective: to see and feel things unconventionally, even when uncomfortable, and to constantly renew and review one’s perception of the world.
جس میں نہ ہو انقلاب، موت ہے وہ زندگی
رُوحِ اُمم کی حیات کشمکشِ انقلاب
Another of her staple favourites—this time from one of my personal favourites, Iqbal’s Masjid-e-Qurtubah. My first dabbling with Arabic began in Dr. Arfa’s classroom, when she explained how the word inqilaab is derived from qalb, or heart. The qalb is constantly, kinetically alive because of its throb—its turbulence sustaining its existence.
What began as a simple course on Iqbal’s poetry became a concurrent study of philosophy, religion, art, social sciences, personal faith, public disillusionment, Arabic, history, and politics—all intersecting, with Dr. Arfa as the origamist.
Majoring in Social Sciences (as Humanities was not offered as a streamlined degree at LUMS twenty-plus years ago), I chose to specialize in Comparative Literature. For my thesis, I undertook a comparative analysis of the Urdu ghazal and the English sonnet. It was my great fortune that Dr. Arfa agreed to supervise my research. She would direct, never dictate, and listen with an eagerness that continually renewed my confidence and commitment.
For me, a twenty-year-old, to have a towering pyramid of knowledge and experience as my cheerleader was nothing short of benediction—for which I will always remain deeply grateful. She urged me to present my paper at the All-Pakistan Music Conference, led by Dr. Ghazala Irfan, with Dr. Arfa reciting the selected ghazals, and my former professor, Ms. Shaiasta Sirajuddin, graciously offering to read the chosen sonnets.
The last time I was fortunate to meet Dr. Arfa was, ironically, at the final recital of Zia Mohyeddin Sb, shortly before his passing. I remember her in a maroon long coat, a felt woollen hat sartorially slanted, as she introduced me to Zia Sb as one of her precious students. There can be no greater prize, no deeper dedication—yet no harder loss.
The entire nation mourned her recent passing. One of the last of the formidable and the finest, the bold and the brightest. Dr. Arfa will always remain an ustad, a mentor, a friend—to whom I would unfailingly send a message every year on Teachers’ Day, and who would always reply.
She touched anyone and everyone who had the pleasure and privilege of knowing her. She will be celebrated for her ability to enrich and entrance, and her contribution will remain unforgettable.
ہے کہاں تمنّا کا دوسرا قدم یا رب
ہم نے دشتِ امکاں کو ایک نقشِ پا پایا
As her student, I can only choose to serenade her legacy through my own teaching practice- upon which she has left an indelible mark- for which any tribute would only be a paltry cathartic relief.
Hājrah Khan – a thinker, a literature teacher and Alimah.
She can be contacted on hajrah.khan@gmail.com
