By Zafar Anjum for TwoCircles.net,
No man is born great. Men become great by dint of their hard work, sense of mission and their service to mankind.
Dr. Syed Hasan or Syed Bhai as he is affectionately known, was such a man. Choosing service over fame and fortune, he spent all his life contributing to nation-building through education. He was my teacher and a teacher of thousand others who came in contact with him through INSAN School and College. Leaving behind a life of promise in the United States in the 1960s, Dr. Hasan chose Kishanganj—a very backward region in Bihar—as his karmbhoomi, his field of action.
In 1966, he founded INSAN School, which became a centre of excellence in education with a unique philosophy of work.The eleven years that I spent at this School, I saw Dr. Hasan working tirelessly as the ‘director’ of INSAN School—a very unique title to adopt for a school or college principal or founder. The entire school campus was his set, and like an accomplished film director, he would direct all the cast and crew members on his set. The films he produced, year after year, were blockbusters, in academics and leadership. Many of his students went on to achieve success in various fields of life, in India and abroad.
Syed Bhai never taught me any particular subject in class. Seeing him run the school as a leader was a great education in itself. He personified many dictums that are ideals of behavior. Simple living and high thinking—he showed how to lead a simple life and yet keep one’s thoughts high and lofty. He lived in a simple cottage, with little creature comforts. He raised his family in such circumstances and gave them the same life and education that others were receiving on the campus.
He also personified Nehru’s famous slogan: ‘Aaraam Haraam Hai’ (there is no time for rest). He worked tirelessly, come rain or shine. If it rained, he would say, keep working in the rain. The rain is doing its job and you should do yours. He believed in doing manual labour and made all his students participate in sanitation exercises.
The school campus was like Tolstoy’s farm. It was an orchard of bamboo-thatched huts and cottages. Syed Bhai believed in using local materials and local expertise to construct these dwellings. We were told this was very much like Tagore’s Shantiniketan. Every street and lane in the school exhorted us to keep reading and keep growing; and becoming good and honest citizens.
In INSAN School, we were made to wear gerua (saffron) shirts as uniform. This colour signified sacrifice. Hindu sadhus also wore clothes of the same colour. For Syed Bhai, this was an attestation of his secular values.
The last time I met Syed Bhai was in late 2014. I had gone to INSAN School to present him a copy of my book, Iqbal: The Life of a Poet, Philosopher and Politician (Random House India, 2014). The book is dedicated to Syed Bhai. He had met Iqbal as a school child in the 1930s in Lahore. It was a great personal moment for me.
I have not seen Sir Syed Ahmed Khan, Allama Iqbal, Tolstoy or Rabindranath Tagore, but in Syed Bhai, I could get a glimpse of those great souls—educationists and poets who thought better of the humanity. May his soul rest in peace!
(Zafar Anjum is a Singapore-based journalist and writer)