The legacy of my father

In a scholarly home lived a man, Prof Waheed uz Zaman Deva, who quietly challenged centuries of convention, not through protest or politics, but through parenting.

Born into a family of scholars, businessmen and nobles, my father Prof Deva spent his childhood in an overwhelming literary environment. This ecosystem imbibed in him brightness, intelligence, curiosity and ambition to do more. He kept focused on his goal. In spite of getting all facilities of life those days, he chose to study.

He completed his matriculation from Anantnag and his bachelor’s in science from Srinagar. He used to say that there was no concept of syllabus those days and he used to remember and study even the preface and the contents of all books.

During those times very few from Kashmiris ventured into the scientific stream for higher studies but my father did it being first Muslim from south Kashmir to have done it. He did his Masters in Chemistry from Aligarh Muslim University and began teaching as Professor of Chemistry at S.P College Srinagar. He was a Professor of repute and a force of nature - intelligent, principled, nurturing, and fiercely committed to transformation.

Though his degree read “M.Sc. Chemistry” from Aligarh Muslim University, his mind wandered far beyond the boundaries of science. His bookshelf was a world in itself containing volumes of Urdu and English literature, beside texts on world politics, atlases on geography, books of tafsir and hadith, treatises on economics, and essays by philosophers across civilizations. I have seen even Das Kapital in his library. I have read “Letters to a Daughter” and “Discovery of India” from his library.

At a young age of 28 he got married into a respectable and noble family of Drabus in Srinagar. By 36 he had his family of daughters completed.

My father was a professor of chemistry, a man of science, precision, and logic. He spent decades unraveling molecules and formulas for students who sat in awe of his quiet brilliance. But his true masterpiece was not written on blackboards, it was the life he crafted at home, raising daughters who were as fiercely educated and empowered as any son might be.

My father was a man of quiet, yet immense, strength. Without saying much, he spoke volumes through his actions. One by one, all his daughters were ushered into schools, then colleges, universities, professional colleges and sometimes traveling far beyond the comfort zone for getting trainings in studies and in life.

At times, I know he must have been afraid. Afraid of a society that whispered its judgments. Afraid of the uncertain futures that stretched ahead for his girls in a world that didn’t always welcome them with open arms. But if he ever felt that fear, we never saw it. He shielded us from it. What we saw instead was his unwavering belief that we deserved more. His satisfaction came from seeing school bags on our backs, confidence in our voices, degrees in our hands. He did not lament the absence of sons but he celebrated the presence of daughters and invested in daughters with belief, with sacrifice, and with boundless love.

He taught us that no subject was irrelevant. That a person must be rooted in faith but open to ideas. That knowing Shakespeare could make you kinder, and understanding global history could make you wiser. He quoted Ghalib and Gandhi with equal ease, spoke of Newton and Nehru, and made sure we knew the Qur’an as well as the economy and the Constitution. He saw education not as a privilege for the few, but as a right for his daughters, and he virtually moved mountains to make sure we held books, not burdens.

In a home full of girls, he will ever remain our strength and our softness. He taught us not just how to read and write, but how to stand tall, speak out, and believe in our own worth. Prof Deva along with my mother was our friend, mentor and protector, and always our biggest believers. Because of my father, we walk into rooms with confidence and we know we are enough. He believed that education is not a privilege granted by society, but a right that empowers to shape society. His life was a testament to sacrifice without complaint and love without condition. He prioritized our education and learning above everything else. And in doing so, he changed the narrative not just for our family, but for generations to come. He didn’t just educate us. He raised us to be thinkers, decision-makers, professionals, and compassionate humans. We became teachers, doctors, writers, administrators engineers not because the world gave us space, but because he gave us wings.

In a society still hesitant to fully embrace the potential of women, my father made a radical choice. He turned his full attention to raising a household of girls not just with care, but with conviction. While others offered education as a formality, he gave it to us as a foundation. He believed knowledge in science, literature, ethics, or faith is important for everybody’s mental improvement and well being.

Under his roof, we were educated holistically. He believed a well-rounded mind was more powerful than a narrowly trained one. Our dining table conversations ranged from the laws of thermodynamics to Iqbal’s couplets, from ethical dilemmas to etiquette at public gatherings. He corrected our posture, our grammar, our table manners and reminded us, gently but firmly, that education without humility was incomplete and thus cultivated consciousness. He instilled in us a quiet pride, not in being daughters of an intellectual, never allowed us to boast of our family status or lineage but in becoming women of learning, grace, and substance. He didn’t just want us to earn degrees; he wanted us to live with dignity.

Today, I look back and see his sacrifices with even deeper clarity. When the world now talks about girl child empowerment, equal opportunity, and female education as modern ideals, I remember that my father lived those values long before they became slogans. . He found reward in our growth who believed in his daughters before the world learned to.

I often marvel at how he managed it all, lectures to deliver, papers to grade, a house full of growing minds to guide. But that was his gift as he lived without hurry, yet never wasted a moment.

He raised us not just to succeed in our careers, but to face the world. He also taught us life lessons by using various anecdotes and metaphors. He used to say ‘human relationships are delicate matters, don’t be so soft with people such that they take you for granted and don’t be so hard, that you’ll repel people, always seek the middle path’. I realize it now how wise these lessons are.

We feel the ripple of his impact which continues. Today, his granddaughters walk into classrooms and careers with the same courage he once taught us. The cycle he broke is not returning. The path he paved is being widened with every generation.

This tribute is not just a remembrance. It is a celebration of a life that reshaped others. It is a reminder that revolutions do not always come with noise, sometimes they grow quietly, in the hands of a father who dared to believe.

If ever the world seeks an example of what true progress looks like, let them look at the lives of women who were empowered by fathers like mine.

This is his story. But it is also mine. Ours. It is the story of every girl whose life changed because one man chose to believe. His classroom extended far beyond campus walls. He believed every home could be a university, every moment a chance to teach, every child a vessel for change.

Today, as his daughters hold advanced degrees and meaningful careers, we know our success is not individual, it is built upon his sacrifices, his hard work and keeping every facility of life available and even treading upon his own ambitions. We carry his values into our workplaces, raise our own children on his principles, and return again and again to the wisdom he planted.

He was not just our father. He was our professor, our philosopher, our moral compass. He taught us that knowledge is sacred, and that to uplift even one soul through learning is to change the world. In this all he has touched thousands of lives which I got to notice at the time of his demise.

Forever proud. Forever grateful. We are because you were.