New forms of Islamic educational provision in India

By Yoginder Sikand

Much of the discourse on Muslim education in contemporary India is shaped by notions of Muslim 'backwardness' and alleged resistance or even hostility to 'modernity'. Madrasas, or Islamic seminaries, form a central core of this discourse, although the actual proportion of Muslim children who study in full-time madrasas is relatively small. Based on the fact that numerous (though by no means all) madrasas are, indeed, resistant to significant change and 'reform', it is argued that Muslims as such resist 'modernisation' and 'modern' education. Consequently, this discourse, deliberately or otherwise, ignores the innovative efforts being made by some Muslim organisations in India today to combine Islamic and 'modern' education as an alternative to traditional madrasa education. Some of these efforts are emanating from 'traditional' madrasas themselves. Others mark a new form of madrasa, understood here in the literal sense as 'school', which departs from the 'traditional' madrasa in significant ways. These efforts represent different ways of seeking to express Islam in forms more relevant to today's times, aiming to produce a new sort of ' ulama or Islamic religious scholars who combine knowledge of the Islamic tradition and of the 'modern' world. This paper provides a broad overview of some of these efforts with the help of selected case studies.

Bridging the Din and Duniya: Islamist Educational Experiments

Among the most remarkable, yet little studied, efforts to combine Islamic and 'modern' education in India today are those being made by certain Islamist as well as Islamic 'modernist' or 'reformist' groups. Questioning the dualism that has come to be developed between 'religious' and 'worldly' knowledge, they see both forms of knowledge as part of a comprehensive whole. Accordingly, educational institutions run by several such groups have incorporated a range of 'modern' subjects into their curriculum, although often only after being suitably 'Islamised'.

These institutions are an alternative to both traditional madrasa s as well as to 'secular' schools, private as well as public. They differ from 'traditional' madrasas in several respects. While most 'traditional' madrasas have little or no room for 'modern' subjects, these institutions embrace 'modern' knowledge, and often follow the curriculum laid down by state educational authorities, with certain additions and modifications. This reflects a belief that all forms of beneficial knowledge are 'Islamically' legitimate. Unlike 'traditional' madrasas, they do not specialise in the teaching of Islam. Rather, Islam is generally taught as a subject, one among several others. While traditional madrasas devote particular attention to the teaching of the nitty-gritty of fiqh or Muslim jurisprudence, these institutions do not deal with fiqh in great detail.

While almost all 'traditional' madrasas are affiliated with one or the other rival or competing Muslim maslaks or 'sects', most of these institutions project themselves as free from 'sectarian' prejudice. In contrast to 'traditional' madrasas, they do not aim specifically to produce full-time religious specialists, ' ulama whose source of livelihood is the religious sector. Rather, they see themselves as training students who would go on to become 'good' Muslims as well as, at the same time, 'good' doctors, lawyers, engineers, social activists and so on. This reflects an understanding of the role and function of the ' alim that departs from tradition in a crucial way�an 'alim is not only one who has mastered medieval tomes on fiqh but also a scholar of any 'modern' and 'useful' subject while being a 'good' Muslim, and in that capacity is able to 'represent' Islam in the course of his or her professional life and in his or her dealings with others. At the same time, this understanding of the role of the ' alim does not deny the necessity and importance of specialisation in one or other branch of traditional Islamic knowledge.

In a certain sense, the 'ulama, understood here in the literal sense of 'scholars' (in any branch of knowledge, 'worldly' or 'religious'), that such institutions seen to produce are an alternative to the traditional ' ulama and represent an alternate, and, in a sense, competing, locus of Islamic authority. The latter are seen as unaware of the world around them, having little or no understanding of the complexities of the world outside the narrow confines of their madrasas. The new type of Islamic scholars that these institutions seek to create are thought of as more capable of responding to the challenges of contemporary life in what is seen as a 'truly' Islamic fashion, reflecting a certain form of 'Islamic modernity'. They are regarded as possibly more socially engaged, 'modern', and as better able to represent the community and Islam than the traditional ' ulama.

If such institutions represent a search for a relevant Islamic response to the demands and pressures of 'modernity', they also are a response to the threats that many Muslims feel to their identity in India today. These threats emanate from various quarters, including from right-wing Hindu groups known for their antipathy to Muslims as well as from the Indian state and dominant forms of Indian nationalism that are heavily influenced by Brahminical Hinduism and have little space for other identities, including the Islamic. Also seen as undermining a certain form of Muslim identity that such institutions seek to protect are the forces of secularisation, rationalism, the general growing indifference to religion and so on. These threats are seen as reflected, in various ways, in the 'mainstream' educational system, both public and private. Hence, these new Muslim educational institutions also regard their task as insulating Muslim children from what are regarded as these insidious challenges to their Islamic identity.

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Among the most enthusiastic to embrace 'modern' subjects and include them in their syllabi are schools associated with the Islamist organisation, the Jama'at-i Islami Hind. The Jama'at was founded in 1941 by the scholar-cum-activist Sayyed Abul 'Ala Maududi. Maududi saw the Jama'at as spearheading the struggle for the establishment of an Islamic state, strictly ruled in accordance with the shari'ah. A number of Muslims, including both madrasa-trained 'ulama as well as some who had received a modicum of 'modern' education, were attracted to the Jama'at in its early years. One of Maududi's major concerns soon after founding the Jama'at was to formulate a new system of Islamic education, which he presented as an alternative to both the 'traditional' madrasas as well as 'modern' schools. In 1944, he organized a meeting of top Jama'at functionaries at the organisation's headquarters at Pathankot in Punjab. At the meeting he presented the outlines of an ambitious educational programme, based on a system of primary, secondary and high schools. Rather than produce professional 'ulama, a notion that Maududi seemed to view as un-Islamic for being akin to a class of priests which Islam condemned, the proposed schools were to train a new generation of Muslims rooted in their faith but at the same time experts in various 'modern' disciplines, capable of taking up a range of occupations, and, above all, leading the movement for the establishment of the Islamic state of Maududi's dreams. If committed and pious Muslims were to excel in every field of 'modern' knowledge, Maududi claimed, they would be able to impress people of other faiths with the 'truth' of Islam. Consequently, the latter would either willingly become Muslim or else accept Muslim leadership. [1] This, in turn, Maududi believed, would help pave the way for the eventual establishment of an 'Islamic state'. 'Modern' knowledge was thus regarded as indispensable for a very political purpose.

The Partition of India in 1947 led to the division of the Jama'at, with the majority of its members, including Maududi himself, migrating to Pakistan, although Maududi had throughout opposed the Muslim League, regarding its agenda of Indian Muslim nationalism as a gross violation of the principle of universal Muslim brotherhood. The Jama'at now split into two separate wings, one each in Pakistan and India. In Pakistan the Jama'at registered itself as a regular political party, while in India, where Muslims were a beleaguered minority, the re-christened Jama'at-i Islami Hind functioned as a cultural and religious organization, keeping aloof from party politics.

In September 1948 top Indian Jama'at leaders gathered at the movement's headquarters to discuss the setting up of a system of Muslim primary education. It was felt that if Muslim children were left to study at government schools they would slowly, yet inevitably, lose their distinct Muslim identity. Hence, Jama'at leaders stressed the need for Muslims to set up their own schools, till at least the primary level, where their children could study modern as well as Islamic subjects in a 'proper' Islamic environment. At the meeting a provisional syllabus for Muslim school education was approved. The curriculum for the primary level consisted of general Islamic Studies, recitation ( nazira) of the Qur'an, basic Arabic, Urdu, Hindi, English, Mathematics, General Knowledge, History and Geography. For higher classes the syllabus included the Qur'an, Hadith, fiqh, principles of fiqh and Arabic, along with English, General Knowledge, Political Science and Economics.

Shortly after this meeting, the Jama'at set up its own publishing house, the Markazi Maktaba-i Islami, which was given the task of publishing suitable textbooks for teaching these various subjects. The books were prepared by a committee of Jama'at activists and supporters, including ' ulama who had received a madrasa education as well as men who had studied in 'modern' schools. Some 75 textbooks, in English, Hindi, Urdu and Arabic, were published in subsequent years, and these were regularly revised and updated. [2] In line with Maududi's programme of the 'Islamisation' of knowledge, 'modern' subjects were presented in a suitable 'Islamic' framework. Thus, for instance, the Mathematics texts contained sums related to the payment of zakat and intricate calculations related to the rules of division of inheritance according to the shari'ah. The Science texts described the laws of nature as God-given, and referred to verses of the Qur'an that were said to predate significant scientific discoveries by centuries. In this way, the books sought to legitimise the acquisition of knowledge of 'modern' subjects in Islamic terms.

In 1949 the Jama'at sought to put its educational programme into action by setting up the Markazi Darsgah (' Central School') at Rampur. As its name suggests, it was envisaged as a regular school (darsgah), in contrast to a 'traditional' madrasa. It aimed at training activists for the Islamist movement who were rooted in their faith but were also aware of developments in the world around them. It was seen as an alternative to state-run schools that were regarded as being opposed to Islamic beliefs and as teaching infidelity and irreligiousness. [3] The school functioned under the auspices of the Jama'at till 1960, when it was closed down due to administrative and financial problems. In 1986 it was restarted, managed now by a committee of nine persons, headed by Maulana Yusuf Islahi, senior member of the central committee ( majlis-i shura) of the Jama'at. The Darsgah appears to have inspired the setting up of several other similar educational institutions in other parts of the country that also adopted its syllabus. According to a Jama'at source these included 1617 primary, 65 secondary and 51 high schools, as well as 15 institutes for technical education. [4]

Today, the Darsgah provides education till the sixth grade, after which students generally join regular schools. Plans are being made to extend it to the higher secondary level in the near future. In line with the Jama'at's vision of Islam, students at the Darsgah are taught a combination of Islamic and 'modern' subjects. The Islamic Studies course includes several texts penned by Maududi himself. In contrast to 'traditional' madrasas, it steers clear of maslak and fiqh divisions, seeking to promote an understanding of Islam that, so it claims, is based directly on the Qur'an and the Hadith. It thus stresses the unity of all Muslims, irrespective of fiqh differences, which, while recognized, are to be tolerated. Hence, admission is open to students irrespective of mazhab or maslak, and the school has had some non-Hanafi teachers on its rolls as well. The Darsgah has produced a number of students who have gone to occupy leading positions in the Jama'at-i Islami and in various other Islamic organizations and movements. Several other of its graduates have completed higher education at regular universities, such as the Aligarh Muslim University and the Jami'a Millia Islamia, and now work as doctors, engineers and journalists. [5]

Another interesting Jama'at-sponsored educational initiative is the Jami'at ul-Falah, located at Bilariyaganj, near the town of Azamgarh in eastern Uttar Pradesh. It was set up in 1962 by a group of Jama'at activists and sympathizers. It was structured on the lines of a 'modern' school, with a seven-year primary course and a higher course of another seven years, including a five-year ' alim degree programme and a two-year fazil course. The fazil course included a number of optional subjects, such as Journalism, Calligraphy, Comparative Religions, Islamic missionary work, Hindi and elementary Sanskrit, Social Welfare and Education.

Falah saw itself as training 'ulama as social activists to struggle for the cause of Islam as a 'complete system', as envisioned by Maududi himself, and to combat 'un-Islamic' ideologies as well as 'wrong' practices followed by many Muslims. [6] In this way, its students were trained, as its official publicity brochure puts it, to 'present Islam, with adequate proofs, before the world as the only means for success in the Hereafter'. [7] Furthermore, Falah saw as one of its principal tasks the creation of a class of 'ulama who, the brochure proudly announces, 'clearly understood the issues of their time'. [8] Hence, it included a number of 'modern' subjects in its syllabus, believing that these were essential for preparing a class of educated Muslims who could lead the community in all spheres of life, and not simply as religious specialists as narrowly construed. It sought to provide its students with a broader outlook, free from the prejudices of inter- maslak rivalry so characteristic of most madrasas. [9] Muslims of all sects and schools of thought were eligible for admission, and the school had a number of teachers from different maslak s, including from the Deobandi and Ahl-i Hadith traditions, besides the Jama'at-i Islami. [10] In contrast to most other madrasas, it did not promote any particular school of fiqh. Rather, it sought to cultivate an open attitude on matters of jurisprudence, seeking to take from each legal school what it thought to be in accordance with the primary sources of Islamic law, the Qur'an and Hadith, and insisting on the need for ijtihad or creative legal interpretation to cope with modern issues and challenges. [11] In another significant departure from 'traditional' madrasa education, it did not teach any of the medieval Qur'anic commentaries. Students were encouraged to try to understand the Qur'an on their own, with the help of dictionaries, although they were free to study the medieval commentaries as well.

Today, Falah is one of the largest and better-organized madrasas in India . In 2003 it had an estimated 5000 students on its rolls, including some 2700 girls, who study in a separate wing. It had more than 120 teachers, several of whom were graduates of the madrasa and had then gone on to regular universities for higher education in a range of disciplines. It has considerably restructured its course of study, extending it to the graduate and post-graduate levels. Till the junior high school level it uses the government-prescribed syllabus and textbooks prepared by the National Council for Educational Research and Training (NCERT), supplemented with selected books of its own choice. Thereafter, students do a seven-year specialized course in Islamic Studies and Arabic, with English, Geography, History, Comparative Religions, Political Science and Sociology as additional subjects. The school also offers a two-year diploma course in Hindi. It has recently started a computer section, and computers are now a compulsory part of the curriculum.

Falah thus claims to provide a broad-based education, devised in such a way that its students receive a general grounding in both religious as well as 'modern' subjects. This, in theory, enables them to choose, once they graduate, either to go on to regular universities or else to pursue further Islamic education. However, the quality of teaching of 'modern' subjects leaves much to be desired, because of which the madrasa's claim of producing 'ulama well versed in 'modern' disciplines seems considerably far-fetched. Yet, the management and teachers at Falah actually welcome their students going on to enrol at regular universities once they graduate. Dismissing an oft-heard argument against madrasa students joining universities, a graduate from Falah, now a teacher in a college in a town in Uttar Pradesh, says:

Some 'ulama argue that if madrasa students go to universities they would lose their Islamic character. They would begin to drink alcohol and smoke and wear Western clothes. They would stop saying their prayers and keeping the fast in Ramzan. I don't agree with this argument at all. If madrasa students are given proper intellectual and spiritual training and their faith is firm and secure, there is no reason why this should happen. In fact, I know of many madrasa students who are now studying and even teaching in universities in India and abroad. They are still as good Muslims as they were when studying in the madrasas. More than that, they are also setting a good example for the other students in the university, who admire them for their piety, simplicity, honesty, dedication and discipline. In this way they can play an important role in communicating the message of Islam to people of other faiths.

Likewise, a student presently studying at Falah, who hopes to enrol in a university after he graduates, says:

One often hears this argument that if madrasa students begin to join universities and then train to become doctors or lawyers or anything other than a traditional maulvi, the very purpose of the madrasa system would itself be defeated. This, however, is completely false, because in Islam there is no contradiction between the demands of religion and the demands of the world. If a madrasa student becomes a doctor he can still remain a pious Muslim, and can even help the cause of Islam through his service to people of other faiths. After all, the Qur'an clearly says that there is no monasticism in Islam and that one's faith must be expressed in one's actions in all spheres of life. So, if you are a doctor and serve people in accordance with the teachings of Islam that is also a form of worship. Unfortunately, however, some misguided so-called ' ulama make a rigid distinction between religion and the world and wrongly claim that the two are opposed to each other, and that the only way one can serve Islam is by sitting in the mosque and counting beads.

Falah's degrees are now recognized by a growing number of universities in India and in Saudi Arabia and Egypt. This has allowed for its graduates to seek further education in regular universities, opening up for them new job opportunities not available to products of traditional madrasas. Today, a growing number of Falah students, or 'Falahis' as they are called, work as lecturers in colleges, journalists, translators, and as employees in business firms and Islamic institutions in India and in the Arab world. It is estimated that more than half of the students who pass the ' alimiyat examination at Falah go on to take admission in regular universities, with less than a third staying on to complete the fazilat course.

In contrast to many smaller madrasas, Falah provides its students with facilities for a range of extra-curricular activities. It has a large sports field, and students are encouraged to play a variety of games after school hours. The Jami'at ul-Tulaba, Falah's students' organization, organizes regular debates and essay competitions and brings out a college magazine containing articles written by the students themselves. The madrasa arranges for professors (almost all Muslim) from universities to lecture to the students occasionally on subjects of contemporary concern. Falah boasts of a library containing over 20,000 volumes, housed in a new three-storeyed building, which also houses a well-equipped computer centre, a large seminar hall and several reading rooms.

Similar educational experiments inspired by the Jama'at-i Islami have come up in various other parts of India. In Kerala there are estimated to be some 40 high schools associated with the Jama'at, where students train for the 'alim course and simultaneously prepare for a bachelor's degree from a state university. Likewise, in other states a number of regular schools, such as the Zikra High School (Hyderabad), the Millat High School (Jalgaon), the Iqra School (Aurangabad) and the Milli Model School (New Delhi), have been set up in recent years by members or activists of the Jama'at. Some of these are English-medium schools and use the regular government syllabus, with extra classes for Islamic Studies, for which they use textbooks prepared by the Markazi Maktaba-i Islami.

Although not affiliated to the Jama'at, the Islamic International School in the crowded Dongri district in Mumbai shares, in many ways, a similar vision of Islamic education. Founded in 2001, it is run by the Islamic Research Foundation, a missionary organization headed by the Islamic scholar Zakir Naik. Naik is India's most well-known Muslim polemicist. He specialises in debating with leading Christian and Hindu theologians, and his admirers claim that he has worsted them all in numerous public rallies, in India and abroad.

The International Islamic School is not a 'traditional' madrasa. In fact, it seeks to distinguish itself from a madrasa in significant ways. Its brightly painted classrooms are equipped with blackboards, tables and chairs, and colourful posters decorate their walls. In contrast to the simple classrooms in madrasa s, which often do not even possess fans, all the rooms in the school are all air-conditioned, a luxury that only few schools in India can afford. Monthly fees amount to 3000 rupees, which is well beyond the budget of an ordinary Indian family. Again, unlike most madrasas, the school is not affiliated to any particular Muslim maslak, being open, in theory, to Muslims of all sectarian backgrounds. In this way, it seeks to present an ecumenical image that transcends narrow sectarian barriers that are so deeply inscribed in the 'traditional' madrasa system.

An employee of the Foundation explains the aims of the school, pointing out how it differs from 'traditional' madrasas in many ways:

We want to produce a class of pious Muslims, men as well as women, who will be able to represent Islam in all domains of life. We want to train good Muslim doctors, engineers, lawyers and scientists who would be able to show the world what Islam has to offer in all these spheres. Ours is not a madrasa in the traditional sense of the term. Unlike many traditional madrasas, where students have little or no understanding of the complexities of modern life, we want our students to be well aware of both Islam and the world around them. This is why we are not affiliated to any particular sect or school of fiqh. Instead, we go straight to the Qur'an and the Hadith for inspiration, because we see divisions based on fiqh and sect as inimical to Muslim unity.

The school aspires, as its name suggests, to 'international' status by providing English-medium education using modern teaching methods and aids, but in what its publicity brochure proudly describes as an 'Islamic' environment. The school is geared to a clientele of rich Muslims who seek a suitably 'Islamic' yet modern education for their children, for many of whom the education provided in general schools is culturally inappropriate and alienating. Students learn the usual school subjects in addition to Islamic Studies, which are taught with the help of primers published by Islamic organizations in the United Kingdom, the United States, Australia, South Africa and Saudi Arabia. The school is presently till the second standard, but it plans to shortly expand to the high school level.

Alternate Forms of Islamic Knowledge: Combining the Dini and the Duniyavi

Besides the new sorts of Muslim schools described above, in India today a growing number of madrasas are incorporating 'modern' subjects into their curriculum. A good example of a 'modernising' madrasa is the Markaz ul-Ma'arif Education and Research Centre, Mumbai. It was established in 1982 by Maulana Badruddin Ajmal, a graduate of the Deoband madrasa and a member of Deoband's central advisory committee. Originally from Assam, Ajmal is a prosperous Mumbai-based merchant and philanthropist. He represents a new, emerging breed of socially engaged 'ulama, setting up social work projects and also promoting religious education using innovative means. The Markaz runs a number of institutions in Assam and some other states in northeast India. These include, or so its publicity pamphlet claims, 10 English-medium schools, 550 part-time maktabs, three orphanages, a modern hospital and several vocational training centres. The Markaz claims to fund several small social work centres that are engaged in various developmental activities. It has a publishing wing, which has produced a considerable amount of Islamic literature in various languages, including Assamese, Bengali, Urdu and English. [12] It is also engaged in a limited form of inter-faith dialogue work, and has liberally contributed to various 'national' causes, making substantial donations to the Prime Minister's Relief Fund and the Army Central Welfare Fund, with the purpose, as its publicity brochure puts it, of helping the cause of 'martyrs who laid down their lives for the cause of the country'. [13]

In 1994, after consultation with the elders at the Dar ul-'Ulum, Deoband, the Markaz decided to set up a centre in Delhi to train a selected number of madrasa graduates in English, Computer Applications and Comparative Religions. The principal objective of the programme was, as its publicity leaflet puts it, to enable madrasa graduates 'find a suitable place in the world' and also to 'reason scientifically and put forward convincing arguments before the masses about the positive teachings of Islam'. [14] Till it was recently closed and shifted to Mumbai, every year the Markaz selected some 20 students, mostly graduates from the Dar ul-'Ulum, Deoband, for a two-year course. The course involved intensive study of spoken and written English. Students were also taught various computer application techniques, such as desktop publishing and web designing, skills that would need in their future profession as missionaries. In addition, they also learnt about the basic beliefs of other faiths in order to better equip them in missionary work.

Several graduates of the Markaz are now employed as English teachers at various madrasa s, including two at the recently launched department of English at Deoband. A number of them teach Arabic in government schools in Assam, West Bengal and Bihar. Others work as journalists in Urdu as well as English papers brought out by different Muslim organizations. Yet others have found jobs as teachers and translators in Arab countries and in South Africa, which is home to a large and relatively prosperous Deobandi Muslim community. Two graduates from the centre manage the Markaz's website and on-line fatwa dispensing unit based in Mumbai. Several of the centre's graduates are now studying at regular universities, pursuing research in Arabic, Urdu and Islamic studies. [15]

A similar experiment is the Dar ul-'Umoor, based at Srirangapatanam, near Mysore , in the southern state of Karnataka. Founded as a registered trust in 1998, it is run under the auspices of the Tipu Sultan Advanced Study and Research Centre, the brainchild of Ziaullah Sheriff, one of the biggest architects and builders in Bangalore. It is located in a sprawling 40-acre campus adjacent to the tomb of the eighteenth century Muslim ruler of Mysore, Tipu Sultan. It takes its name from a similarly named institution set up by Tipu Sultan to promote scientific innovations. It sees itself as imparting what it describes as 'an integrated educational programme both in Islamic Science and modern science and technology' so as to train a new class of socially involved ' ulama. [16]

In 2002 the Dar ul-'Umoor launched a one-year course, jointly prepared by university professors and ' ulama from the Nadwat ul-'Ulama, Lucknow. Till date most of its students have been drawn from the Nadwa itself. Education, boarding and lodging are provided free of cost, and each student are given a small monthly stipend. A major focus of the course at the Dar ul-'Umoor is the learning of English and computer applications. Other subjects are also taught, by visiting lecturers, including university professors, scientists, journalists, social activists, ' ulama, politicians and retired bureaucrats. Visiting lecturers have, till date, spoken on a range of issues at the school, including inter-faith relations, modern fiqh issues, community development, conflict resolution, Indian history, personality development, information technology, mass media, and global politics. In addition, every Thursday the students are expected to do engage in practical training, such as visiting schools, non-governmental agencies, scientific institutions and museums, as well as churches and temples to interact with Christian and Hindu priests. Students submit regular reports and articles, some of which have been published in local Urdu newspapers. All students are also simultaneously pursuing their master's degree in Urdu from the Karnataka Open University, Mysore.

'Abdur Rahman Kamaruddin, the amiable chairperson of the Dar ul-'Umoor, explains how the school seeks to promote a new breed of ' ulama who are cognizant of the world around them:

Through the exposure that the students gain by interacting with experts in different fields, we want to prepare ' ulama who can play a constructive role in community affairs. If they are made aware of the problems and concerns of the world around them they would be in a better position to interpret Islam in order to meet new demands and challenges. They might also be able to influence the madrasas once they finish their studies here. In that way reforms can begin from within the madrasa system, instead of being imposed from the outside. Some students will return to madrasas to teach, sharing their knowledge and skills with other 'ulama. Others might be absorbed by various Muslim social welfare organizations or by Muslim magazines and newspapers as journalists. Yet others would work as preachers in mosques, and one of their principal tasks would be to deliver sermons on issues of contemporary relevance. In this way, we feel that the work that we are engaged in will have a multiplier effect and lead to a gradual transformation of the madrasa system as a whole. [17]

The Dar ul-'Umoor has made efforts to popularise its programme in different madrasa s, seeking to make them aware of the need for reforming their syllabus and methods of teaching. For this purpose, in 2001 it organized its first four-day orientation programme at the Nadwat ul-'Ulama, attended by a number of leading ' ulama and social activists. Speeches were delivered on a variety of issues of contemporary importance. The students and teachers at Nadwa apparently responded with enthusiasm, evincing considerable interest in the future programmes of the centre. The centre has contacted several other madrasas and has offered to conduct similar workshops with their students.

Another similar experiment, hailed as a unique and pioneering effort to combine Islamic and 'modern' education, is the Jami'at ul-Hidaya, located in a Muslim-dominated village on the outskirts of Jaipur. Established in 1986 by the Naqshbandi Sufi shaikh and 'alim, Maulana 'Abdur Rahim Mujaddidi, it is affiliated to the Deobandi maslak, although it is open to Sunnis of all schools of thought. The madrasa provides its estimated 700 students a 'traditional' Islamic education. This supplemented with compulsory 'modern' education till the tenth grade level. For this textbooks published by the National Council for Educational Research and Training are used. Thereafter, the madrasa has a four-year 'alim course, during which students learn a range of subjects, including the Qur'an, Hadith, tafsir, fiqh, and Arabic Literature. Arrangements are also made for lectures by visiting ' ulama and university professors to speak on issues of contemporary concern. Students doing the 'alim course must also learn a skill that would enable them to earn a gainful livelihood after they graduate. Among the technical trades that the madrasa has arrangements for are computer applications, mechanical and electrical engineering, electronics and communications. Several of the graduates of the madrasa have now set up small businesses of their own, and some have even got jobs in companies in India and in Gulf countries. Other students of the madrasa, estimated at half the total number of graduates, have gone in for higher Islamic education, in India and abroad, and yet others have joined regular universities for higher studies.

The Maulana 'Abdur Rahim Education Trust, which runs the Jami'at ul-Hidaya, also manages three English-medium schools in Jaipur city, catering largely to boys and girls of poor Muslim families. In association with some professors of the Aligarh Muslim University the Trust recently set up the Al-Hidaya Study Centre at Aligarh in order to train Muslim students to appear for competitive examinations for various government services. The Trust has set a set a list of ambitious plans for itself, including launching a full-fledged faculty of commerce, as well as starting courses in refrigeration, air conditioning, pharmacy, automobile engineering and journalism. It is also in the process of establishing a training centre for madrasa teachers, which would be the first of its kind in the country.

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As these instances show, numerous madrasas and Muslim organisations in India are indeed making creative attempts to combine Islamic and 'modern' education. Many more examples, in addition to those described above, can be adduced to stress this often overlooked point. The notion of Muslim resistance to 'modern' education, a central trope in 'mainstream' discourse on Muslims today, is thus hardly worth taking seriously. What is true for only a small section of the Indian ' ulama�a certain hostility to alternate forms of knowledge�cannot be used as an argument to generalise about all Muslims, as is sometimes done.

True, change in Muslim education maybe slow in coming, and it may not always occur in expected or desired ways. A whole host of factors, including poverty, the lack of a sizeable middle-class, the role of sections of the ' ulama hostile to alternate forms of education and threats to their identity and even lives that many Muslims face, all combine to complicate the community's overall response to the challenge and need for educational 'modernisation'. Yet, inexorably, the pressure for reform and 'modernisation' is making its presence felt even in the secluded portals of the most 'traditional' madrasas. As this paper has tried to show, numerous Muslim educational organisations in India today are trying to respond to the need for members of the community to embrace 'modern' knowledge while at the same time retain and promote their faith and identity. Struggling to maintain a balance between the two is not an easy task, with the conservatism of sections of the ' ulama, on the one hand, and the hostility of right-wing Hindu forces, including those within the state apparatus, on the other.