Today, February 26, marks the anniversary of the passing of my Nana’s father — who was also my father-in-law Kalimullah Khan Sahib’s Dada, and Anwer Mahmood Khan Sahib’s Dada. He left this world on February 26, 1954, seventy-two years ago.

He was blessed with a remarkable lineage: 24 children, 87 grandchildren, and 277 great-grandchildren — and by the grace of God, I am one of those 277.

The write-up that follows was authored by his son, Professor Habibullah Khan Sahib, and is taken from Kalam-e-Gauhar, his collection of poetry, published by Kalimullah Khan Sahib — my father-in-law and the father of Nabeela, Shameela, Aaliya, and Aatifa. It is both a tribute and a window into the life of a man whose legacy continues to live through generations.

Our ancestors are believed to have come from Najibabad. After the decline of the Mughal Empire, the family migrated, and my great-grandfather eventually settled in Rampur. He was a man of remarkable ability and influence. Because of his competence and leadership, he rose to occupy the high post of Prime Minister of the State of Rampur. Nawab Yousuf Ali Khan awarded him a large jagir in recognition of his services. During the Mutiny of 1857, he saved the lives of many Englishmen, and in appreciation, the British Government granted him an additional jagir in Muradabad. During his tenure, our family enjoyed considerable power, prestige, and respect.

My grandfather, Major Abdul Ali Khan, also served with distinction. He was the Second-in-Command of the 6th Cavalry Regiment and was conferred the title of “Sir” by the Government in recognition of his service. Later, the Nawab of Rampur invited him to join the Council of Ministers. Our family’s association with leadership, governance, and responsibility continued across generations.

My grandmother, Aabadi Banu Begum, came from a distinguished and prosperous family of Sambhal. Her life, however, was marked by early trials. At just 27 years of age, she lost her husband and was left to manage the household and raise her children alone. With his passing, the family income became limited, yet she never allowed circumstances to weaken her resolve. With remarkable strength and discipline, she ensured her children received proper education. They were first enrolled in local schools, and after completing matriculation, were sent to Aligarh College for higher studies. She was deeply religious, punctual in offering namaz five times a day, and maintained a household rooted in faith and discipline. That spiritual environment shaped the character of her children in lasting ways.

You can read a post from me about Aabadi Banu Begum who is also referred lovingly as Bi Amma – https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/tribute-abdi-bano-begum-bi-amma-shukoor-ahmed-pukrc/

My father, Hazrat Moulana Zulfiqar Ali Sahib, was born in 1869. He was only 11 years old when his father passed away. His elder brother, just two years older, also died young. The remaining siblings — Shoukat Ali, Nawazish Ali, Mohammad Ali, and their sister Ahmadi Begum — were all younger than him. Despite these early losses, my father pursued his education with determination. He studied in Bareilly and later moved to Aligarh, where he completed his FA. Financial constraints made higher education difficult, and recognizing the burden on the household, he chose to take up employment so his younger brothers could continue their studies. That decision alone speaks volumes about his sense of responsibility.

He joined government service around 1894–95. In 1902, he was transferred to Meerut as Inspector in the Excise Department. The following year, he was appointed Naib Tehsildar, and by 1905, he was posted to Allahabad on Special Duty. In 1907, he was promoted to Tehsildar. His competence eventually led to his services being requisitioned by the Rampur State, where the Nawab entrusted him with heading the Excise Department as Superintendent. He served in that capacity until 1918 and earned a reputation for efficiency, integrity, and dedication. The Nawab held him in high esteem and would summon him personally if he was absent even for a day. Yet envy among certain senior officials led to unfounded allegations against him. Though never proven, these intrigues created an unhealthy environment, prompting him to resign and return to British Government service.

Despite prestige and authority, his heart was inclined elsewhere. In 1920, responding to the call of the Khalifa, he sought retirement and dedicated his life to serving the Ahmadiyya Jamaat. He served for many years as Secretary Umoor-e-Aamma (Foreign Affairs) and later as Chief Secretary of the Jamaat. In 1930, Nawab Raza Ali Khan of Rampur requested the Caliph to lend my father’s services once again to the State. With permission, he served there for five years, but his true passion remained with the Community, and he returned to the Jamaat headquarters. During his service, he was part of delegations meeting Viceroy Lord Reading in 1921, presented gifts to Prince William in 1922, and participated in the Muslim League Annual Conference in 1927.

Beyond his official roles, he had varied interests. He loved hunting and would go lion-hunting atop an elephant, sometimes waiting patiently from platforms built high in trees. He maintained a collection of rifles and pistols and even prepared cartridges for smaller game. At the same time, he had a deep love for gardening and tree plantation, nurturing various plants in pots and appreciating fragrances and fine perfumes. He was particularly fond of mangoes — Rampur being famous for them — and would send the finest varieties to Hazrat Masih Maud (AS) and other respected members of our Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. He also enjoyed tennis and cricket and played regularly at the Officers’ Club in Rampur.

When asked why he did not follow his younger brothers into India’s political freedom struggle, he would respond thoughtfully. He would say that while they worked for the independence of a nation, he had chosen a larger responsibility — striving for the spiritual liberation of mankind from the clutches of evil. He believed that such roles are assigned by the Almighty, and one must serve where one is called.

At the time of Partition, he was in Delhi. By the grace of God, he safely migrated with his family to Lahore and was allotted a bunglow on Upper Mall. By then, he was nearly 80 years old. Severe knee pain and obesity restricted his mobility, and much of his later years were spent resting. After the marriage of his youngest daughter (Razia Begum), he moved to his son-in-law’s home, where he remained until his passing. Though not afflicted by any major disease, weakness from immobility and digestive issues gradually overtook him. He passed away on 26 February 1954 at the age of 86. His funeral prayer was led by Hazrat Musleh Maud (RA) at Ratan Bagh, and he was laid to rest in Bahishti Maqbara (Heavenly Cemetery). His had promised to pay 10% or his income and wealth to our faith community which is called Wassiyat was registered at serial number 75, reflecting that he was among the earliest participant in the scheme.

Looking back at these generations, I see a consistent thread — service, dignity, resilience, faith, and responsibility. Titles and estates may fade, but character endures. That legacy remains the true inheritance of our family.

Note: A lot has been written about him in my pictorial book which is going to be printed soon and also in Kalam-e-Gauhar, Ek Dana Jauhar (Biography of his son Maulana Abdul Malik Khan Sahib (compiled by his son Anwer Mahmood Khan) and Hayat-e-Habib (Biography of his other son Professor Habibullah Khan Sahib (compiled by his son Kalimullah Khan).

A Living Example, A Quiet Hero, A Guide

Today, as my father-in-law turns 87, I find myself reflecting not only on his long and remarkable life, but on the lessons he has quietly planted in my heart. He has never been a man of many words, yet every action, every gesture, and every small kindness carries more weight than the loudest speeches. In him, I have found a mentor, a friend, and a soul whose simplicity and grace have shaped our entire family.

Earlier this year, I had the extraordinary blessing of traveling with him for about 30 days — through Islamabad, Lahore, Rabwah, Qadian, Amritsar, Delhi, Rampur, and Hyderabad. This was not just a journey across cities; it was a journey through time, history, family, and the deepest corners of his heart. We talked about everything — faith, life, family, relationships, elders, community, politics, childhood, and his cousins and daughters, whom he is proud of yet never boastful about, especially knowing many of his other relatives did not have the same opportunities or role models. That trip changed me.

In Islamabad, he reunited with nine cousins — meeting several after forty years. I watched the warmth with which he embraced them, the softness in his voice, and the joy in their eyes. They reminisced fondly about their childhood, and I realized something profound: staying connected with family is not a chore — it is an act of love. He taught me that showing up matters, even after decades.

In Rabwah, his teenage home, he guided me through the narrow lanes where he once lived with nine siblings under the modest income of his father. He spoke not of hardship, but of happiness. Their tiny home was filled with laughter, unity, and contentment. As I listened to him, I understood: happiness has nothing to do with the size of a house — it comes from the heart that beats inside it.

I saw this spirit again in Kalim Uncle’s home — a small three-bedroom house with one bathroom and four daughters, yet overflowing with warmth. He welcomed me without hesitation, making me the seventh person staying there for a month. Nabeela followed the same spirit she inherited from her parents, opening our home in the same way, without a single complaint. Another lesson: hospitality is not about space — it is about spirit.

In Qadian, a place sacred to our family, he searched tirelessly for his paternal grandmother’s resting place. When we finally found it, I saw a quiet fulfillment in his eyes — the fulfillment of honoring one’s elders. He is one of the few people I have seen who has invested months, even years, into preserving his ancestral history. He completed his father’s wishes by compiling his paternal grandfather’s collection of books — twice — with dedication and reverence. He also completed his father’s biography, which will be printed soon.

This deeply inspired me. I began compiling the history of my grandparents and my parents’ siblings, fulfilling a long-held wish of my own father, who had left behind a small manuscript about his mother. My father-in-law taught me that remembering your roots is an act of gratitude.

In Amritsar, we spent an entire day in the Partition Museum. He spoke softly but powerfully about those tragic days — families torn apart, hopes lost, sacrifices made. He connected the dots of our history in a way I had never heard before, including the struggles of those who traveled from South India to Punjab during those turbulent years.

In Rampur, the hometown of his grandfather, Maulana Zulfiqar Ali Khan, I received an unexpected masterclass on my own great-grandfather’s sacrifices for India’s independence. There is something humbling about learning your history from someone who lived close enough to feel its heartbeat. We offered prayers in the mosque built by his grandfather’s family and met one of the remaining family members while recording some of the oral history.

In Hyderabad, we visited his sister — the mother of fourteen children. He is the only uncle who has visited them five times. I watched how he spoke to each child with respect, interest, and encouragement. He remembered everyone’s names, their challenges, their dreams — and he made every child feel seen. This is mentorship in its purest form: noticing people.

He traveled with about $6,000 on this trip and entrusted me to track the expenses. When I tallied everything, I realized he had spent over 75% of it gifting nieces, nephews, and relatives. He purchased only about $200 worth of items for himself. That generosity was not new — he supported his father monthly for over 30 years while maintaining a modest lifestyle for himself in a smaller home with very limited personal needs.

He teaches by example that true wealth is measured not by how much you keep, but by how much you give.

Most people spend their lives searching for heroes in books, stories, and legends. But his daughters, grandchildren, and all of us who know him are blessed to have a living hero in our family — a hero who never sought credit, never demanded praise, and never asked for anything yet gave endlessly.

On his 87th birthday, we celebrate not just his years, but his character — his humility, his kindness, his dignity, his loyalty, and his deep devotion to family, faith, and bringing out the best in everyone.

May God bless him with health, peace, joy, and countless prayers from the generations he has quietly shaped.

Happy 87th Birthday to a man whose life continues to teach me what truly matters.
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(4) A Tribute to Abdi Bano Begum (Bi Amma) | LinkedIn
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/tribute-abdi-bano-begum-bi-amma-shukoor-ahmed-pukrc/?trackingId=K1PnFPBXug7NiIYLqj%2Bn9Q%3D%3D

Shukoor Ahmed

Fueling Growth | Empowering Startups | Transforming Communities | Preserving History | At Home on Political & Cricket Fields

 

November 13, 2025

An Enduring Legacy of Faith, Courage, and Purpose

One hundred and one years ago, on November 13, 1924, Abdi Bano Begum departed this world, leaving behind not only a devoted family but a living legacy that continues to inspire her descendants. She was the matriarch of a generation that helped shape the moral, political, and spiritual fabric of the Indian subcontinent. Her life, though largely lived away from the public eye, was the quiet source of strength that molded three extraordinary sons—Maulana Zulfiqar Ali Khan, Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar, and Maulana Shoukat Ali—each of whom left an indelible mark on history in his own way.

The Eldest: Maulana Zulfiqar Ali Khan — The Servant of Faith

Maulana Zulfiqar Ali Khan, the eldest son of Abdi Bano Begum, lived a life of simplicity, service, and devotion. While his younger brothers made headlines as firebrand leaders of the freedom struggle, Zulfiqar Ali Khan chose the quieter but no less profound path of spiritual service.

After serving the Nawab’s administration with distinction, he found himself surrounded by jealousy and intrigue—his honesty and competence breeding resentment among less principled peers. Disheartened, he rejoined the British Government service for a time, but the yearning for a life of faith soon drew him elsewhere. In 1920, responding to the call of the Khalifa of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, he retired early and dedicated his life to the community.

He served as Secretary, Umoor-Aamma (Foreign Affairs) and later as Chief Secretary of the community, working tirelessly to strengthen its institutions and global reach. His humility and discipline earned him the respect of both religious and political leaders. He was part of the delegation that met Viceroy Lord Redding (1921), presented gifts to Prince Willier (1922), and participated in the Annual Muslim League Conference (1927)—all moments that reflected his ability to bridge faith and civic responsibility.

Despite his stature, he lived modestly. He loved nature, hunting, and gardening—cultivating mango trees in Rampur and sending their choicest fruit to his spiritual leader, friends, and family. His zest for life was matched by his love for fragrance, friendship, and sports like tennis and cricket. When asked why he chose not to follow his brothers into the political arena, his response revealed profound conviction:

“My brothers seek freedom for one nation; I seek freedom for the entire world—from the chains of evil.”

At the time of Partition, Maulana Zulfiqar Ali Khan was in Delhi. Despite age and illness, he migrated to Lahore with his family, where he spent his final years devoted to prayer, reflection, and service. His life embodied quiet greatness—the strength of faith over fame.

He had 24 children—12 of whom lived full lives, while 12 passed away within their first ten years. He had 87 grandchildren and 277 great-grandchildren.

The Second Son: Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar — The Voice of Freedom

The middle son, Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar, was one of India’s most dynamic leaders of the early 20th century—a journalist, orator, poet, and patriot who ignited hearts with words and courage. Educated at Oxford, he returned to India to become a leading figure in the Khilafat Movement and the Indian National Congress. His newspaper, The Comrade, became a voice for justice and Muslim unity, read across continents for its fearless critique of imperialism.

When he spoke, even his opponents listened in silence. His speeches at national gatherings carried both intellectual brilliance and moral fire, reminding Indians that freedom was not just a political necessity but a spiritual duty. He endured imprisonment, poverty, and ill health without compromising his convictions.

At the Round Table Conference (1930) in London, facing British officials, he famously declared that he would “prefer to die in a foreign prison than return to a slave India.” Soon after, his health declined, and he passed away in 1931 in London—his funeral prayers offered in Jerusalem, symbolizing his dream of global Muslim unity.

Mohammad Ali Jauhar’s legacy was one of defiant integrity—teaching that leadership demands both intellect and sacrifice. His mother’s teachings of faith and perseverance shaped his moral compass and inspired his courage to confront empires with nothing but conviction.

The Youngest: Maulana Shoukat Ali — The Soldier of Sacrifice

Maulana Shoukat Ali, was the heart of the movement that his brother Mohammad Ali led with words. If Jauhar was the voice, Shoukat Ali was the action. Known for his commanding presence and organizational brilliance, he mobilized masses across India to unite Hindus and Muslims against colonial rule.

Like his brother, he was imprisoned multiple times—his health broken but his spirit unbent. Together, the “Ali Brothers” became a symbol of unity and resistance—a living embodiment of courage rooted in faith. Shoukat Ali’s speeches drew tens of thousands; his conviction that justice and self-determination were divine rights continues to echo through generations.

Even in his later years, weakened by imprisonment and illness, he remained a tireless advocate for dignity and harmony. He reminded people that independence was hollow without moral integrity and that true leadership required compassion for the poor and humility before God.

The Legacy of a Mother (Bi Amma)

Behind these three remarkable men stood Abdi Bano Begum, a mother whose prayers and values formed their foundation. She raised her sons to serve—not to seek power but to uphold truth. Her home was a place of learning and spiritual discipline, where moral strength was valued more than wealth or status. She lived to see her children rise as national and spiritual leaders, each serving humanity in his own sphere.

She passed away on November 13, 1924, but her spirit continues to live through her descendants. Her story reminds us that revolutions begin not in parliaments or pulpits but in homes where mothers teach faith, courage, and service.

A Lesson for Her Great-Grandchildren

To her great-grandchildren and generations beyond: Your lineage carries both privilege and responsibility. The world today may not be ruled by empires, but it is still bound by injustice, ignorance, and inequality. Remember what your ancestors taught through their lives—that true freedom begins with the liberation of the soul.

Let Zulfiqar Ali Khan’s humility, Mohammad Ali Jauhar’s intellect, and Shoukat Ali’s courage remind you that every era demands its own form of struggle—whether for faith, justice, or truth. The greatest tribute you can offer to Abdi Bano Begum is to live with purpose, serve humanity, and carry her light forward.

Her legacy, born in the quiet corners of Rampur and carried across continents, is a testament that a mother’s prayer can change the course of history.

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(1) Suggestions | Facebook
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Pappa, you may no longer be with us, but your spirit lives on in our hearts. We miss you deeply, and we will continue to cherish the memories we made together. Rest in peace, knowing that your legacy will endure and inspire generations to come. #resilience #curiosity

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