PUBLISHED on November 16, 2025
I never had the chance to meet Dr. Arfa Sayeda Zehra in person, but I always felt a deep, personal connection with her. It was in the early 1980s, during my years at Oriental College, University of the Punjab – where I pursued my Masters in Urdu literature – that I first heard his name from my revered teacher and literary guide, Dr. Sajjad Baqar Rizvi. At that time, if I remember correctly, Dr. Zehra was in the United States.
Baqar Sahib had taught thousands of students over the decades, but there were only a handful he remembered with such warmth and pride – and among them, he often spoke of Arfa Zehra. Every time he mentioned her, his eyes shone with affectionate admiration. I still remember him describing his genius and conviction as a student, and later came across his own remark: “Maĩ Bāqar Sāḥib kī sar chaṛhī shāgird thī..” (I was the lovingly pampered student of Baqar Sahib.)
There was a considerable temporal distance between her student years and mine, but in my heart I always thought of myself as her. Khwajatash—a fellow disciple of the same teacher. Perhaps it was because, during the last years of Baqar Sahib’s teaching life, I was among the few who remained close to him, often engaging him in lively discussions – what he affectionately referred to as “sticking together.”
Dr. Arfa Sayeda Zehra’s first love has always been literature. She earned her master’s degree in Urdu literature and later pursued a doctorate in history. This academic development reflects his broadened intellectual horizons. As an educator, she has embraced the broader landscape of the humanities and social sciences, enriching her search for depth and diversity. Yet, despite all her academic commitments, she never lost contact with literature.
His language remained refined, soft and melodious, his words imbued with clarity and grace. The way she spoke was of rare calm and dignity, her voice measured, her expressions lucid and her lips often adorned with a knowing and benevolent smile. She had the rare gift of transforming intellect into empathy and knowledge into enlightenment.
His intellectual strength lay not in providing answers but in inspiring questions. In an age saturated with information – where everyone seems eager to offer conclusions – she reminded us of the profound wisdom of inquiry. She believed that true understanding begins not with answers, but with the courage to ask. As Firaq Gorakhpuri beautifully puts it:
May pūchta to hū̃, magar javāb ke liye nahī̃..
(I ask questions, but not just to get answers.)
His thoughts on modern indifference often returned to this same theme: that we have learned to ask the big metaphysical questions but have forgotten the simplest and most human: whether another person is well or needs care. Behind such observations lies his moral conviction that knowledge and piety are vain if they do not arouse compassion.
Born in Lahore around 1942, Dr. Zehra spent most of her life in this historic city, shaping minds. His educational journey reflected both intellectual rigor and spiritual depth: Besides a master’s degree in Urdu literature, she held a master’s degree in Asian studies and a doctorate in history obtained in the United States. Her professional life was no less brilliant: she was principal of the Lahore College for Women, then of the Government College, Gulberg, and in her later years as a professor at Iqra University. However, it was never the positions she occupied, but the the purpose it served it defined her.
She often said that teaching, for her, was not about transmitting information but about transforming perception. “If only two of my thirty-five students were influenced by me,” she once thought, “I would consider it an achievement. I never wanted to just teach subjects, but to learn to live. Education is not for employment, it is for life.” This belief, rooted in humility and determination, has defined more than four decades of her teaching career.
Dr. Zehra has also emerged as a voice of reason amid rising extremism. His criticism was courageous but never harsh. With her characteristic wit and calm, she once remarked that in today’s world, everyone seems ready to call everyone else an unbeliever – proof, she said wryly, that there are no true believers left. Behind such comments there was not cynicism but pain – a lament for the loss of tolerance and introspection in society.
She was an enlightened scholar who sought to bring about vital and fundamental changes in Pakistani society, in its ways of thinking and in its structures of feeling. Yet she was never a “motivational speaker” in the superficial, performative sense that that term came to mean. His influence came from ethical reasoning and not from theater. For her emphasis on values and didactic clarity, some critics have aligned her with Ashfaq Ahmad and other so-called Baba Intellectuals which was inspired by esoteric traditions. But unlike them, Dr. Arfa was in no way an obscurantist. His ideas were lucid, forward-looking and rooted in modern sensibilities. Because she occasionally cited scripture or drew moral teachings from religious sources, some liberal or left-wing commentators mistakenly placed her within right-wing thinking. In truth, she has constantly enlightened the humanist and pragmatic dimensions of religion, distinguishing its vision from sentimental piety and ideological rigidity.
It is this balance between moral firmness and intellectual grace that has made her respected across ideological divisions. Proponents of traditional thought admired his grounded approach, while liberal voices, even when they disagreed, recognized his sincerity. She did not belong to any faction; it belonged to thought itself.
Spiritually, she found her way into Rumi’s vision, which she called murhid. She often echoed his idea that the greatest power belongs to the one who can let go, because he who cannot let go owns nothing, whether in a treasure trove or a kitchen. Through Rumi’s lens, she cultivates detachment without denial and conviction without arrogance. His inner life was one of spiritual discipline and moral clarity.
Dr. Zehra’s literary activities extended beyond his lectures and essays. She translated several important works that brought world literature closer to Urdu readers:Abbeel (a Moroccan novel), The Sultana’s dream, Daria Bibi (Bangladeshi works), and Aurata selection of stories centered on the lives of women. These translations were not simple linguistic exercises; they were acts of cultural empathy, uniting voices from all countries and genders.
Dr. Arfa Sayeda Zehra challenged assumptions and invited reflection on the cultural, ethical and social dilemmas of our times. His insights into our collective behavior and intellectual stagnation often provided both critique and clarity. Even for those who did not always agree with his views, his words forced serious reflection and soul-searching.
In a society that is becoming increasingly hollow and superficial, Dr. Arfa Sayeda Zehra has established himself as an intellectual who is both substantial and stylish. His eloquence was never ornamental; he carried conviction, rooted in knowledge and moral conscience.
With her passing, Pakistan lost one of its most luminous voices: an educationist, scholar and humanist whose contributions transcended disciplines. She was not only a teacher but also a moral and cultural force, nourishing minds and shaping characters. His presence was a mixture of intellect and compassion; his speech, a confluence of wisdom and humanity.
His departure leaves a silence that seems greater than the loss. Yet his voice – soft, thoughtful and unhurried – continues to resonate in every conversation where knowledge meets consciousness.
Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born, Austria-based poet who speaks Urdu and English. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at the University of Vienna.
