Naaz Sahib is a remarkable teacher everyone truly admires
MENTOR
MANZOOR AKASH
Some teachers stay in our hearts long after they retire. Naaz sahib is one of them. Honestly, I have been planning to write about him for many weeks now. But today, without any further waste of time, I don’t want to miss the opportunity to describe who he truly was.
On a serene, quiet morning on the 4th of April, 1966, a modest home situated just a stone’s throw from the historic Nagraad Masjid in north Kashmir’s Dangiwacha welcomed its youngest son, named Nazir Ahmad Shah, but to the people that would come to know and love him, he became Naaz (someone to be proud of). Though he recently superannuated from the department of school education, yet he was more than a teacher, a role model.
Life, however, introduced Naaz to loss before he could fully understand its weight. He was only four years old when his father, Ghulam Udin Shah, passed away. The elder Shah had been a renowned Molvi, a man of profound humility whose intellectual roots stretched to Lahore and the prestigious Hakim Ajmal Khan Tibiya College in Amritsar. An authority on Arabic grammar, he left behind a legacy etched in the memory of the community—people still speak of his soulful Qirat, his vast knowledge, and the quiet dignity with which he carried himself. Though his father was gone, the fragrance of his scholarly humility remained in the very foundation of the home.
Naaz’s journey into the world of letters began at the local Govt. Primary School, affectionately known in the neighbourhood as the ‘Shabaan Sheikhun School’, as it operated out of a rented building belonging to the late Shaban Sheikh. Literally, to look back at those days is to evoke a world of sensory nostalgia. Education then was a tactile, deliberate art. There was the traditional wooden slate—the Takhti or Mashaqq—and the Naagri qalam, the traditional reed pen dipped carefully in soil ink. These simple instruments were the entire universe of learning for a young boy. Over the decades, Naaz would watch this universe shift, as the scratch of the reed on wood gave way to the smoothness of pen on paper, and eventually, to the silent tap of digital screens. Yet, the soul of his learning remained anchored in that early discipline.
After the fifth grade, Naaz moved to the Govt. High School Dangiwacha (now Higher Sec. Institute), which stood as the solitary beacon of matriculate education in the entire Rafiabad region then. To this day, a wave of nostalgia sweeps over him when he recalls the school’s old walls. They were adorned with the portraits of Ghalib, Iqbal, and Sir Syed Ahmad Khan. Prominent among them was a masterpiece depicting Maulana Rumi (RA) alongside Allama Iqbal (RA)—a striking work of art created by the school’s legendary art teacher, Hashmat Ullah Hashmi. For a young, impressionable mind, these walls did not just enclose a classroom; they opened a window into the infinite sky of literature and philosophy.
Intellectual curiosity often catches fire through a spark lit by others. For Naaz, that spark was Dr. Rafiq Masoodi, who was then pursuing his Master’s degree at JNU in Delhi. Fascinated by the worlds existing beyond his immediate horizon, a young Naaz secretly became a subscriber to two magazines that arrived via post for Dr Masoodi, viz. Soviet Land and Reader’s Digest. Reading them felt like a clandestine rebellion, a quiet gathering of perspectives from opposite ends of the globe.
By the tenth grade, Naaz had begun to put pen to paper. His early writings were fragmented, the chaotic thoughts of youth searching for a voice. But by the eleventh grade, clarity struck. He penned his first formal Urdu article, which found its way into the pages of the prestigious Urdu daily, Aftab.
The literary journey had now begun. It culminated years later, in 2004, with the publication of his booklet, Sada-i-Haq (The Voice of Truth). The work earned praise from seasoned literary figures, most notably Dr. Ghulam Qadir Lone, a man whose profound mentorship became a guiding light in Naaz’s life; in fact, he was the person who inspired him a lot.
With the passage of time, the raw, fragmented prose of his youth gave way to the deep, resonant voice of a mature columnist. Naaz became a household name for readers of the Urdu daily Uqaab, where his regular column, Sunday Kay Sunday, featured every single Sunday without fail, serving as a weekly mirror to society and culture. Now, bridging his rich past with the present, his highly anticipated new book, Muhazrat-e-Hamidia, is poised for release—a testament to a lifetime spent in the devotion of the written word.
Tragedy and Triumph in the Classroom
Naaz completed his post-graduation in Economics in 1990, and for a time, life flowed with the gentle rhythm of a calm river. But 1996 arrived with a devastating fury. It was a year of profound grief that shook him to his core. First, he lost his beloved mother. Then, a mere forty days later, before the tears could even dry, his elder brother—only in his forties—passed away into the heavenly abode.
Grief can silence a man, or it can deepen his empathy. Naaz chose the latter, channelling his emotions into a lifelong devotion to shaping human minds. Some individuals find their calling by chance, but Naaz was tailored by the Almighty specifically for the noble profession of teaching. His contributions to education could never be contained within the four walls of a classroom. Recognising his innate ability to connect with people, the department utilised his talents on a grander stage. As the Zonal Cultural Coordinator for Dangiwacha from 2003 to 2012, he breathed life into the region’s youth, organising spirited debates, seminars, and cultural festivals.
Later, as the District Cultural Coordinator, his canvas grew even larger. He became the pivotal force behind major literary events, as well as the architect of the official Independence Day and Republic Day celebrations at the district level. His meticulous execution and passion did not go unnoticed; the District Administration honoured him with medals and certificates of appreciation for five consecutive years.
Today, looking back at the boy from the vicinity of Nagraad Masjid who once practised his alphabet on a wooden slate, one sees a life beautifully and completely lived in service of literature, culture, education and more.
Naaz’s story is a poignant reminder that true education is not merely about acquiring degrees or transitioning from ink to digital algorithms. It is about passion. It is about moving through the tragedies of life with grace, keeping the flame of curiosity alive, and spending one’s lifetime lighting candles in the dark for generations to follow.
Wish you a happy post-retirement life, Sir.
(The Author is a teacher by profession and author of several books. He hails from Zone Dangiwacha, Rafiabad. Feedback: manzurakash@yahoo.co.in)
Box: Naaz’s story is a poignant reminder that true education is not merely about acquiring degrees or transitioning from ink to digital algorithms. It is about passion. It is about moving through the tragedies of life with grace