How Jamia Nurtured My Journey of Thought and Belonging

Today, as Türkiye celebrates the 102nd anniversary of its Republic, my thoughts drift across thousands of miles to another celebration—one closer to my heart: the 105th anniversary of Jamia Millia Islamia, my alma mater. While one nation marks its political milestones, another marks a legacy of thought, learning, and resistance. And in the quiet of these reflections, I find myself yearning—not for a place, but for a time when learning felt sacred, and knowledge was both armor and solace.

A University That Became my Universe

Jamia did not simply educate me; it shaped me as a thinking being. Whatever little I have been able to achieve in life—both academically and morally—bears the mark of this institution, its people, and its spaces. During my time there, I had the privilege of meeting remarkable teachers and brilliant students—not only from India, but from many parts of the world. Yet, I believe that Jamia’s true power lies in its spaces of learning and reflection. Among them, the Zakir Husain Library became my sanctuary. Its old reading hall carried the dignity of history, where I filled all my forms and studied classic novels; it welcomed the restless minds. The new library, meanwhile, welcomed dreamers like me. This is also the place where I found and spent quality time with lifelong friends.

Where My Soul Grew—Between Pages and Silence

Unlike today’s generation, I never complained of boredom at Jamia. Whenever I had free time, I walked purposefully to the library. I roamed through shelves far beyond my own department of Political Science—Economics, English Literature, History, and even Mathematics. I wandered there not so much to master those subjects, but to observe the students immersed in disciplines different from my own. I explored those spaces to encounter new worlds, ideas, and perspectives—ones that were not mine, yet slowly became a part of me.

My favorite spot was a quiet bench nestled between the old and new library buildings, shaded by trees and silence.

Every morning, I would sit there with a small notebook and pen in hand. I confronted grief, reflected on loss, and rebuilt strength after difficult family experiences and personal struggles. That bench was not merely a physical place—it was a companion, witness, and guide through the most fragile moments of my life. I wrote, I cried, I dreamed, and I discovered myself. Perhaps this was the reason I never felt the need for a companion at that time, because my campus itself became my true companion.

The Day Jamia Bled

Yet, not all memories of Jamia are serene. I still remember the images—the broken glass of the library, students bleeding, the place of learning turned into a battlefield. The hands that held books were forced to shield heads from batons. Those who swore to protect the people turned against unarmed students. Jamia bled that day, and with it, so did my heart.

The institution I revered, where learning was a spiritual act, had become a site of trauma. The attack on Jamia was not merely physical; it was symbolic. It was punishment for critical thought, for dissent, for refusing to bend to intimidation.

What pains me most today is not only the memory of violence but the gradual saffronization of this beloved institution— to see political power try to erase its inclusive, democratic spirit. Its founding ethos—rooted in the vision of leaders like Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar, Mahatma Gandhi, Dr. Mukhtar Ahmad Ansari, Hakim Ajmal Khan, and Zakir Husain—was never of privilege, but of struggle, of intellectual and moral fortitude. Watching attempts to dilute that spirit is deeply saddening.

Prayer for My Dayaar-e-Shauq

Today, as I sit far away from India, Jamia lives within me. Jamia taught me that true education transforms hearts as much as minds.

As I write this far away from India, I carry Jamia within me—in my words, and in my worldview. It is a reminder that places matter not only for what they teach, but for what they inspire, and where the courage to imagine a better world takes root.

As Muhammad Iqbal wisely exhorted:
Sabaq phir parh sadaqat ka, adalat ka, shujaat ka;
Liya jaayega tujh se kaam duniya ki imamat ka.
(Read again the lesson of truth, of justice, and valor!
For you will be asked to take on the responsibility to lead the world.)

I hope Jamia will regain its strength, and that those who benefit from this university will one day serve it with the same spirit as its deewane—the passionate souls who built it. And I hope to honor the spirit of Jamia—not only in memory, but in action.

Afshan Khan is a PhD candidate at Istanbul Sabahattin Zaim University. She is an alumna of Jamia Millia Islamia.