What Would Maulana Azad Feel Standing Before His Memorial in Medak?

On November 11, we marked the birth anniversary of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, but have we ever wonder how he would feel if he stood today before the newly inaugurated Maulana Azad Memorial in Medak?

The memorial carries his name and his image as a symbol of remembrance. But behind its grandeur lies a disturbing irony. We claim to honor Azad’s legacy but we also allowed the slow death of the language and ideals he devoted his life to preserving.

The Irony of the Memorial

The inauguration of Maulana Azad’s memorial in Medak was marked by political fanfare, but here’s the problem: Maulana Azad’s name doesn’t belong beside leaders whose parties have repeatedly undermined his principles.

Frankly, I would rather have no Maulana Azad memorial at all than watch slow death of our mother tonque, Urdu.

The State of Urdu in Medak

To truly understand why this is so painful, one only has to look at the state of Urdu in Medak.

According to the reports, only 6.44% of Medak’s population reported Urdu as their first language. Telangana may have declared Urdu as its second official language, but in practice, Urdu’s presence in education and administration has been shrinking and it got worse with time.

In Medak today, there are a handful of Urdu-medium schools, and many of these schools function with minimal staff, some with only one or two teachers handling all grades. Most lack basic facilities like libraries, computer labs, or Wi-Fi access.

This isn’t just administrative negligence; it’s a slow suffocation of an entire linguistic and cultural ecosystem. Urdu, once the soul of communication, poetry, and intellectual life in this region, is now surviving on ceremonial occasions.

Maulana Azad saw language as the soul of a civilization, not a mere medium of instruction. To see Urdu reduced to an afterthought in the very land that claims to honor him would have broken his heart.

Azad’s Imagined Visit to Medak

If Maulana Azad were to visit Medak today, I imagine him walking slowly toward his own memorial, the air heavy with speeches, slogans, and camera flashes. He would stop before the plaque bearing his name and perhaps smile faintly. But that smile would not last.

He would ask:

“Why am I being remembered in stone when my living language is being forgotten? Why is Urdu dying in your schools and colleges, even as you celebrate me in your politics?”

He would see schools with one teacher struggling to keep Urdu alive, students forced to switch to other mediums because Urdu offers them no future, and a generation that sees his language as outdated or irrelevant.

For a man who believed that education is liberation and language is dignity, this would be a tragedy beyond words.

And he would ask, quietly but firmly:

“Is this remembrance or mockery?”

The Real Memorial Azad Deserved

A true Maulana Azad memorial is not made of marble or granite. It is built in classrooms where students are taught to think freely. It is in universities, colleges and schools where Urdu thrives not as nostalgia, but as a language of intellect and creation.

It is in societies where education means more than employability, where it means enlightenment, curiosity, and moral responsibility.

If Maulana Azad stood in Medak today, he would see a memorial bearing his name but missing his principals and ideals he worked for. He would see speeches without substance, tributes without transformation. And he would turn away, disappointed, whispering the words he once wrote:

“Zindagi na bhadak uthne ka naam hai, na bujh jaane ka — zindagi naam hai sulagte rehne ka.”

(Life is neither about blazing up nor about fading away. It is about continuing to smoulder, quietly and steadfastly.)

It is now upon us, students, teachers, and citizens, to ensure that this smouldering never dies out.

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This article reflects the author’s personal views and does not necessarily represent the official position of Seerat. It has been published as part of Seerat’s Opinion section to encourage dialogue and critical reflection.