إِنَّا لِلَّهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ

                                                                    From the God we come and to Him, we return.

It is impossible to capture the fullness of my mother’s 95 years in the paragraphs below. What follows is a brief memoir—an attempt to weave together the many adventures and triumphs that shaped her remarkable life.

Razia Sultana (Hyderabad, India, 1929 – Pleasanton, California, USA, 2025), named after the legendary Indian warrior queen, lived a life worthy of her namesake. A pioneering educator, she dared to believe that a woman could achieve anything she set her mind to—and she spent her life proving that conviction true.

Her high school graduation in Hyderabad Deccan marked the beginning of her adventurous journey and her ticket to higher education. In 1945, Lord Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of India, and uncle of the current King Charles of UK, ceremoniously signed her high school diploma. Razia carefully preserved it as a symbol of the subcontinent’s British Raj, something she would later show her children and grandchildren. In the late 1930s, when Razia was still a young grade-schooler, she won a poetry competition that would leave a lasting impression on her life. Sarojini Naidu, the famed 'Nightingale of India', being one of the judges, presented her with an autographed portrait of her own childhood—an image originally taken in 1893. That treasured photograph, preserved through the decades, can be seen on this memorial site.

Razia’s family life was just as dynamic. Growing up in Hyderabad, British India, in their father's home Mirza Manzil, she and her four sisters were close-knit. Razia always looked up to the calm wisdom of her older sister, Akhtar Sultana. Like Akhtar, Razia embraced the role of maternal figure to her younger brothers, Ather and Azher. Though her father, Mirza Osman Ali Baig, a high school principal, passed away in the 1960s, Razia remained deeply connected to his memory. His advice to her—“Beta, taleem bari nemat hai” (My child, higher education is your greatest wealth)—was something she passed down to her own children. Their mother Fatimunnisa Begum was the family matriarch who having herself being married away as a teenager, had resolved to grant her daughters a higher education uninterrupted by the responsibilities of marriage. In India of 1950s, such progressive thinking was not just revolutionary, it was objectionable. Fortunately, their mother could count on Razia and her sisters to meet the challenge.

At just 17, in 1946, when Indian women rarely ventured beyond their homes, Razia left her birthplace, the ancestral kingdom of Hyderabad, British India, to pursue a B.Sc. in Food Science at the prestigious Lady Irwin College in Delhi. The era was fraught with political tension, and just after she arrived in Delhi, pre-partition riots erupted violently across the city. Razia witnessed the chaos from her hostel rooftop as Delhi was engulfed in flames. The Nizam of Deccan, one of the wealthiest men in the world at the time, sent a chartered plane to evacuate the students back to Hyderabad for safety. True to her character, Razia quickly boarded the plane, but determined to continue her education, she returned to Delhi once the unrest subsided. There, she attended freedom rallies and witnessed Mohandas Gandhi stirring crowds just across from her dormitory. She was in the heart of history as India was on the brink of independence.

Soon after, Indian military forces marched into Hyderabad, and the Nizam of Deccan, known as 'Ala Hazrat' (His Highness) to his subjects, surrendered the Nizamate's centuries-old rule to the new Indian government. At home, Razia’s family feared for their safety as the military closed in. Her father prepared to defend them, rifle in hand, should the worst come to pass. But, thankfully, their home remained untouched. The war ended, the British departed, but Razia’s journey toward her own freedom had only just begun.

After completing her B.Sc., Razia spent four years teaching Food Science at Lady Irwin College. She studied food preservation, flower arrangement, and various food groups. However, she had read that Food Science in the West was much more complex, encompassing chemistry, biochemistry, and botany. She dreamed of the opportunity to study in the Western nations - perhaps even England. But for this, she had to start an extraordinary academic career and had to search for scholarships based on merit. She recognized the need for Muslim women to be empowered through education, so, with her parents’ blessing, she boarded a train to Pakistan in 1951 to teach at Gulberg College for Women in Lahore, Pakistan, a newly formed Muslim nation carved out of British India. 

Razia, slender and stylish, always dressed in beautiful sarees, moving with a grace and confidence that could rival the silver-screen stars of her time, like Waheeda Rahman and Nautan. When she arrived in Lahore—draped in her trademark starched cotton sari, a well fitting blouse and wearing her hair up, entwined with fragrant jasmine blossoms—the burkha wearing ladies at Gulberg College could not help but gasp. They had never seen a Muslim woman professor who carried herself with the elegance of a film star. But their surprise soon gave way to admiration. With her charm, wit, and brilliance, she won them over completely, showing not only that she could teach their daughters, but that she was, in spirit and sisterhood, one of them.

In 1955, while at Gulberg College, Razia’s life took another turn when a group of American educators visited the campus. Razia, having always dreamed of advancing her education in Nutrition, applied for the prestigious Fulbright Scholarship. Her excellent credentials earned her a spot, and in 1957, she boarded a plane bound for New York, then continued to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to pursue a Master’s in Nutrition and Dietetics at Louisiana State University.

Arriving in the deep South during the pre-Civil Rights era, Razia was struck by the segregation she saw: African Americans were relegated to the back of classrooms and buses, their access to public services limited. Reflecting on her own experiences growing up in colonial India, where signs reading “Indians and Dogs Not Allowed” were commonplace, Razia found herself filled with resolve. On public buses in Baton Rouge, a sari clad Razia defiantly sat in the front seat, taking a stand for her pride as a South Asian woman. She introduced her American classmates to her rich culture, hosting tea parties and teaching them how to break chapatis with their fingers, and dip them in curry. Her American academic counselor, Dr Clara Tucker and her southern classmates found the cultural experience fascinating, and so, Razia brought a piece of East to the West. The news paper paparazzi took pictures, making Razia famous all over the campus in Baton Rouge. You can see those pictures on this site.

While at LSU, Razia traveled with her friends up and down the East Coast and especially enjoyed visiting Washington, D.C. Eisenhower was president. Many of her female classmates would whisper about a handsome young senator campaigning for the US presidency. He would soon be known to the world as JFK. Many years later, while they lived in Karachi, her husband brought home a copy of TIME magazine with the news of JFK’s assassination on the cover. Razia sat down in the kitchen, shocked at the calamity that had unfolded in the region that had been home to her student years.

It was here at LSU, Razia met her future husband, Dr. Baderuddoza Kazi, a brilliant Bengali agricultural geneticist. It was no coincidence that Razia's classes in Nutritional Science overlapped with those of her future husband in his classes of  Agricultural Botany. Their mutual academic interests in science and nutrition soon blossomed into a partnership that eventually led to marriage. After earning her Master’s degree, Razia was offered a faculty position at LSU, but she chose instead to return to Pakistan to continue empowering women there. On the way back to Lahore, she vacationed with new friends, who were also female foreign graduate students at LSU along with Razia. Together, they stayed at youth hostels, and traveled around the glamour of Paris, the scenic beauty of Geneva, the wonder of the Vatican and through the ruins of Rome and Athens. They wandered the old city of Istanbul and  the massive pyramids of Cairo. She concluded these travels with her first Hajj in Mecca. And finally went home to Hyderabad. Her cousins, elder sister and younger brothers greeted her at the Begum Pet airport in Hyderabad with heavy garlands of marigold and jasmine flowers to celebrate her US qualifications and her adventures. She took many pictures of her travels and some are forever preserved here in this memorial site. Razia always said to her kids, "Travel when you are young - not only do you learn from it but inshallah, you will live long enough to talk about it!"

In post colonial India, the university students would dream of going to Great Britain for higher education. When they would return to India, they were called 'London Return.' But not Razia. She had just returned from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She told her younger siblings ' Let me tell you about this country called America. It is a paradise on earth.  Forget England.’

Razia soon married Dr. Baderuddoza in Hyderabad, India, and together they went on to have two children, Shaji and Tasneem. Shaji was born in Bombay and spent his early years in the care of his grandmother and aunt, as his parents were living in Pakistan. Political tensions between India and Pakistan made it difficult for the family to be together for his early years. Finally, Dr Baderuddoza was able to secure his son's return through contacts at the Pakistan High Commission in Bombay, and the family, which now included their younger child, Tasneem, was reunited. The reunion closed a difficult chapter for the family, yet it also marked the opening of many more, as the Kazi family’s life would continue to be shaped by the long shadow of political divisions across the subcontinent.

Following her husband's career in Agricultural Genetics, Razia's journey as an educator took her next to Karachi in 1969, where over the next two decades she served as Dean at Frere Road College and Nazimabad College. Despite her American credentials, she chose to teach in government colleges where the need for quality educators was greatest.  

Razia shared a particularly close bond with Naseem, her youngest sister, who had also migrated from India, and whom she supported through medical school in Karachi during the 1960s. This was possible because Razia lived with a disciplined frugality, firmly believing in saving for a rainy day. She stitched her own clothes with meticulous care, decorated her home with her impeccably embroidered bed covers and doilies, and chose a simple vegetarian diet, setting aside every rupee she could to support her mother in Hyderabad and to help her younger siblings pursue higher education. Her thrift was never for herself—it was a lifeline for those she loved. In time, this same careful stewardship enabled her to help Naseem establish a private hospital in Karachi, turning her modest sacrifices into a legacy of healing.

Razia dreamed of the day Naseem would marry a handsome young man, an engineer, a professor or a doctor. She introduced her sister to all kinds of suitors. But Naseem had made up her mind. She would be single, and dedicate herself to the medical profession. Sadly, Naseem soon developed chronic kidney disease and was too ill to work. In order to get her treatment, Razia continued to use her savings, sacrificing little luxuries for her own children.

It was a difficult time for the Kazi family’s budget. The year was 1971. Indian airstrikes had rained down on Pakistan, which fought back but ultimately could not prevent the country from splitting into two nations—Pakistan and Bangladesh. The government had imposed a 'ration card' for food supplies, inflation was all time high. Despite these difficult times, she got Naseem treatment at the best hospitals in Karachi. When all the doctors gave up hope, a determined Razia called her mother to set sail from India to Pakistan. She then put the last bit of her savings together, and in 1972 purchased two air tickets, and boarded her sister and mother, both in wheelchairs, on a plane bound for USA where her younger brother Dr. Ather Mirza resided. As Razia had hoped he would, Dr. Mirza immediately sponsored his mother Fatimunnisa and sister, Naseem for immigrant status, And from then on a whole new journey began for the Mirza family and their next generation.

When she was a graduate student in Baton Rouge in 1957,  Razia had recognized America, as a land of opportunity - many years before any of her siblings had set foot there. In 1971, she had made a brave and costly last minute decision to send her ailing sister and elderly mother to this country, but she knew this would save her sister's life. And like a marvelous investment plan, it went beyond Razia's prayers. Naseem received state of the art treatment in Chicago and Minneapolis, and her kidney function stabilized. Razia had worked hard to put Naseem through medical school. This endeavor came to fruition in the land of opportunity.  With this wealth of a medical education, Naseem took US medical equivalence exams, and soon developed a self fulfilling career as a psychiatrist. Once Naseem got immigrant status, it enabled her to facilitate other relatives from India to immigrate to the US, and raise their families in this country. It also allowed Razia's mother, Fatimunissa, a widow, to live a comfortable life with Naseem till her last breath in Kansas.

Meanwhile back home, and throughout the 1970s, as the political landscape in Pakistan and Bangladesh shifted dramatically, Razia’s family endured multiple turbulent challenges. Her Bengali origin husband, Dr Badruddoza, went overnight from being a Pakistani to Bangladeshi. The recipient of many national civilian awards for Agricultural research  in Pakistan, he was expatriated to Bangladesh. True to the dedicated nature of a scientist, he worked tirelessly to become a leading agricultural scientist and the Father of Modern Agriculture of the new born nation of Bangladesh. Razia remained in Karachi, raising their children while continuing her work in education.  

As an academic, Razia believed education was the greatest gift she could offer her two children, and she pursued that conviction with unwavering devotion. She returned from the library each week with armfuls of books— Enid Blyton, Agatha Christie, Jane Austen - mysteries, classics, science tales, and adventures—carefully chosen to spark her daughter Tasneem’s imagination and cultivate an enduring love of reading. At St. Lawrence School for Boys, she forged a respectful bond with her son, Shaji’s teachers and often lingered for cheerful, animated conversations with Father Lobo, the genial headmaster. Nothing could deter her when it came to her children’s learning; when Shaji’s biology class fell short of frogs for dissection, she simply summoned her lab assistant to procure anesthetized specimens and paraffin trays, transforming the verandah of their modest bungalow into a bustling, improvised zoology laboratory. Her commitment knew no bounds—she stood firmly behind her children, providing whatever they needed to thrive academically and beyond. 

Despite the void left by their father’s absence—a void carved by political upheaval—Razia raised her children with remarkable courage and resolve, laying the foundation for a future that would uplift generations to come.

Razia's elder sister 'Apa'  had passed away in India in 1978, and Razia could not go to her due to visa issues between nations of war, India and Pakistan. She cried almost daily yearning for her dying Apa while her helpless children looked on. She was able to finally go to see Apa's family in India during the summer of that year. With prime minister Bhutto overthrown, Pakistan was now under Martial Law under the leadership of General Zia Ul Haq. These were hard times getting harder by the day, but in many ways, Razia once again embraced new challenges.  

In 1981, a group of Saudi educators arrived at Nazimabad College, where Razia was serving as Dean. They asked her to recommend a professor who could lead the Nutrition Department at the first women’s university, the Kulliyat ul-Banat, King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah. One of them noticed her business card on the desk and asked, “You wouldn’t consider the position yourself, would you?” Razia never missed an opportunity. She quickly wrote to her mother, who was in the United States then. In her reply, her mother described the opportunity as a divine calling. 

As a result, Razia appointed her Vice Principal to oversee the college in her absence. With her children now in their teenage years, Razia entrusted the household to a highly recommended elderly lady housekeeper, 'Dadi' and to her longtime, trusted chef, Aslam, placing them in charge of the home and the well-being of her family. Then she boarded a plane bound for Jeddah. She had been hired to teach female Saudi students at the graduate level and head the Nutrition Department at the Women’s University, part of King Abdul Aziz University.

The experience as professor at the King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah became one of the most cherished chapters of her life. Her students—bright, curious Saudi young women—looked up to her with deep admiration. To them, she was 'Ustaza', the respected professor, and they loved and revered her for the knowledge and dignity she brought into their classroom. She mentored these young Saudi women who would go on to further their studies in Europe, eventually returning to improve the lives of future generations of women in Saudi Arabia.

One of the stories Razia loved to talk about her experience in Saudi was as follows: Razia owned a modest house in Karachi, but a tenant falsely claimed it as his own. Despite her persistent efforts, she struggled to prove his fraud. While living in Jeddah, in 1982, she learned that the President of Pakistan, General Zia-ul-Haq, would be visiting Madinah. Determined to seek justice, she traveled there and waited for hours at the entrance of Masjid-e-Nabawi, where the president was expected to arrive. When he finally appeared, she mustered all her courage and called out, “Mr. President!” Alarmed, security officers rushed toward her, fearing for his safety. But Razia stood her ground, waving her documents and declaring, “I am standing here in the ultimate court of Law, asking you to return my property to me!”Her boldness caught the president’s attention. He asked her to come forward and personally took the papers from her hands. Two weeks later, her perseverance was rewarded: her property was restored to her, and the fraudulent tenant was behind bars. As was her trademark characteristic, Razia always believed in the power of opportunity—seeing potential where others saw limitations.

Before long, the 1980s faded into the 1990s. Razia’s daughter completed her undergraduate studies in Kansas City, took the MCAT, and went on to attend medical school at the University of Missouri. Her son earned his MBBS from Dow Medical College and later began his residency in Chicago as well. Razia's sister Naseem wanted Razia to move to USA and help with their mother's care. Although reluctant at first to leave her 'family' of various academics in the education sector, Razia finally agreed. She retired early in 1988 and later joined her children in the United States. Her husband, Dr. Badruddoza, had retired earlier, in 1981, but his work was far from over. He soon joined the United Nations as a Chief Research Scientist with the Food and Agriculture Organization, accepting a lead scientist position in Hanoi, Vietnam, where he applied his expertise in plant genetics to improving staple crops. Though his work kept him abroad, he visited his family in the United States often and took great joy in watching his grandchildren grow. He passed away in 2023 at the age of ninety-six, surrounded by his children and grandchildren.

Razia's siblings and their families had now lived in the USA since the 1970s. When she arrived to the States after retirement in 1988, it felt as though she had stepped into a completely different America—like traveling forward in a time machine. The country she encountered was transformed from what she had seen in 1959. Black Americans, once forced to sit at the back of the bus, now moved with a sense of dignity and rightful freedom, protected by laws that had reshaped the nation. Even the everyday look of people had changed dramatically. Gone were the elegant hoop skirts, crisp suits, and neatly worn hats of the 1950s. In their place were casual jeans, bright T-shirts, and a relaxed style that reflected a new, modern era. 

Razia first moved to Kansas, where she stayed with her beloved younger sister, Dr. Naseem Osman, whose life she had helped shape decades earlier by supporting her medical education and later enabling her immigration during a time of illness. Living together again felt like a return to the closeness of their youth—sisters sharing not only a home but the companionship of a lifelong bond.

Razia found great comfort in being surrounded by family in Kansas. Her brother Dr. Azher Mirza and his wife Dr. Fatima Mirza lived nearby, and their home became a gathering place filled with nostalgic conversation and shared memories of Hyderabad, Karachi, and the many chapters the Mirza family had lived through. Razia loved to describe stories of their two children, Farheen and Omer both of whom would go onto become physicians. She talked of Farheen's academic excellence in high school and how little Omer would sing Bollywood songs. These years in Kansas were peaceful and restorative for Razia—a time marked by family brunches and spirited discussions about history, literature, and world events.

It was in Kansas that Razia began to feel more rooted in her new life in America. The presence of her siblings gave her both emotional security and joy. Though she eventually moved to be with her daughter as her medical training progressed, the Kansas years remained a cherished chapter—one in which Razia reconnected with her family in a way that nourished her spirit and prepared her for the next stages of her life.

Razia loved helping people find love, and one of her most successful efforts was having a hand in introducing her daughter Tasneem to her future husband, Dr. Iqbal Omarali. In the early 1990s, while living with her daughter Tasneem who was a medical student at University of Missouri-Columbia,  Razia spotted a matrimonial ad for a neurologist and decided to inquire on behalf of her then–23-year-old daughter. Although the neurologist was no longer available—he had married and was in the midst of a difficult divorce—he remembered Razia’s warmth and sincerity. Several months later, he contacted her again, this time asking permission to introduce Tasneem to a colleague of his: a kind, England-born Canadian cardiologist named Iqbal, then an internal medicine resident at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. Razia agreed, and that single phone call set the foundation for a lifelong partnership. In 2025, Iqbal and Tasneem celebrated 34 years of marriage—a success Razia deeply cherished and often proudly referring to her son in law "Iqbal zindabad" (Long Live Iqbal).

Razia also played a joyful role in bringing her nephew, her sister Akhtar's son, Naveed, a pharmacist, together with his future wife, Aneela, from Chicago. She welcomed Aneela warmly into the family and developed a close bond with her and her parents, often sharing conversations about Urdu poetry and literature. Naveed and Aneela went on to build a beautiful family with their two children, Sarah and Samad.

Razia’s journey in the United States had started in the South, then in the Midwest, but it was in New York City that a profound and life-changing chapter of her life unfolded. In 1994, she moved with her daughter, Tasneem, and son-in-law, Dr. Iqbal Omarali, to Manhattan, where both were completing their medical training. Razia also cherished the close relationship she had with her brother, Dr. Ather “Art” Mirza, and his wife, Vivian Mirza, who lived nearby in Long Island, New York. She enjoyed frequent visits with them, sharing stories, laughter, and family news. Razia loved hearing about their beautiful and talented children, Sajid, Romi, Justin and Kristin. She delighted in watching the younger generation grow, often quoting jokes and funny anecdotes from these nieces and nephews to entertain the whole family. The bond with Art and Vivian was a source of continuity for Razia, reinforcing the sense of a tightly knit family even far from her native Hyderabad. Razia embraced the city with characteristic curiosity—its diversity, culture, and energy delighted her. But it was also in New York that she faced one of the greatest health challenges of her life.

During a routine checkup, Razia was diagnosed with a precancerous lesion of the breast. The news was unsettling, yet she approached it with her trademark faith. She underwent surgery and radiation treatment at Mount Sinai Hospital, in the very Radiation Oncology department where Tasneem was a resident. This coincidence felt to Razia like a divine arrangement—her daughter’s presence during this vulnerable time gave her both comfort and strength. Each day for six weeks, she would ride the M96 bus alone, from upper East side to West side, at Mount Sinai hospital, to get her daily radiation treatment. The treatment was successful, and Razia often reflected on the “blessed timing” that allowed her to be in New York, surrounded by family and excellent medical care.

Her experience at Mount Sinai hospital deepened her appreciation for American healthcare, and a year later, in 1995, she decided to undergo a knee replacement at the Hospital for Special Surgery. The surgery gave her a renewed physical freedom. With improved mobility and the reassurance that she had overcome a major health scare, Razia stepped into the next phase of her life with gratitude and a refreshed sense of possibility.

Razia had lived in the South, the Midwest and the East coast. Her final journey would be to the West Coast.  In 1998, Razia moved with her daughter and son-in-law to Pleasanton, California, where a new and deeply fulfilling chapter of her life unfolded. California quickly became home, not because of the sunshine or the quiet suburbs, but because it was the place where she became a daily presence in the lives of her grandchildren.

Her first grandchild, Ayesha, born in New York City, was the light of her days. Razia walked her to and from elementary school in California, holding her hand as they chatted about everything from spelling tests to TV cartoons. When Zoya, her second granddaughter, Razia found joy all over again. She tucked baby Zoya into a stroller while Ayesha pedaled beside them on her bicycle, the two generations making their way to the neighborhood park. Both Ayesha and Zoya enjoyed their grandmother's fresh lemonade loaded with sugary goodness in the sparkly California sun. She taught them Urdu, the slow, patient work of sewing, and the making of carrot halwa, its warmth and sweetness becoming part of the memories they carried with them long after. Soon after, Razia welcomed her third granddaughter, Nadia—her son’s daughter—into her heart. Each new child expanded her world even more.

There was no greater love in Razia’s life than the love she had for her grandchildren. She nourished them not only with home-cooked meals and whispered bedtime prayers, but also with stories of prophets Noah, Jonah, Solomon and Jacob, and of her childhood in Hyderabad, and of her own youthful defiance in the streets of Baton Rouge. She wanted the girls to know that they came from women who were strong, resilient, and unafraid. She recruited Arabic speaking tutors to teach them the Arabic alphabet, and then the Quran along with its translation.

Her grandchildren adored her in return. To them, she was not just “Ammi” or "Dadijaan"—she was history, wisdom, humor, and unconditional warmth. Even as she grew older and her health required more care in California —including a second knee replacement, and cardiac procedures supervised by her devoted Cardiologist son-in-law, Iqbal — each procedure renewed her energy, allowing her to return to the simple daily joys she cherished most—walking her granddaughters to school, going with them to the grocery store, participating in Urdu Mushairas, working out with 80s style Jane Fonda and Gilad exercise VHS videos, and participating fully in family celebrations.

Razia delighted in her relationships with her sister Akhtar's two other children, nephew Sohail, a successful business owner and niece Seema, a Family Practice doctor. She loved hearing about their daily lives, their accomplishments, and especially their sense of humor. Razia often recounted Seema’s jokes and Sohail’s funny stories to her daughter and other family members, filling the house with laughter and joy. She enjoyed talking about Samarah and Sameer, Sohail's children. Many years later in California, when Sohail's daughter Samarah came to visit her, Razia told her joyfully about Sohail's sense of humor. Razia often texted Sohail's wife, Loretta, asking about life and about Loretta's health which had begun to decline over time.

In 2012, even in her mid-eighties, Razia astonished her grandchildren by swiftly adapting to digital technology and mastering the use of the iPad and iPhone. She realized that if she wanted timely replies from them, she needed to text—and she took to it so well that her messages often earned her almost instant responses!

Razia was deeply fond of Urdu poetry, finding inspiration in poets such as Sir Muhammad Iqbal and Faiz Ahmad Faiz. She published several books of her own poetry and took part in many mushairas—Urdu poetry recitations—across the East San Francisco Bay Area. Her verses also marked family celebrations; she composed and recited 'sehras', traditional wedding poems, for numerous family weddings in Chicago and Kansas.

Razia continued giving back to the Muslim community of Pleasanton in the way she knew best—through teaching, the lifelong passion that had always defined her. She volunteered as a Sunday school teacher at the Muslim Community Center, offering her time, patience, and gentle guidance to countless children. Many of her students would later go on to attend the University of California campuses, and they continued to remember her with gratitude. In Pleasanton, she also became the beloved “Auntie” to Aminah, Misbah, Kausar, and Asfia, whose families wove themselves into the fabric of her life in California. They were not just friends, but an extended family who enriched her days and shared in her joys.

An observant and a very well read Muslim, Razia had always been a deeply spiritual person. For any occasion, she would know the Arabic 'dua' and for any situation, she could quote a reference from the Quran, in Arabic with its English or Urdu translation. She could address even sensitive interfaith conflicts while showing respect and dignity to everyone involved. She read the Quran daily until her last days. She fasted regularly in Ramadan and gave in Zakat (charity). She prayed five times a day even until her last days when she had become too weak to recite the Surahs (verses), but would hold up her hands while her family recited the prayers. Determined to guide women toward higher education, she communicated with her family in Hyderabad earlier by letters, then email and in recent years by WhatsApp, and would ask which of their girls needed money to go to medical school or institutes of technology. She would then send money in zakat (charity) to these individuals to help them realize the dream of higher education and self sufficiency for their daughters.

Never one to let a meaningful opportunity pass by, Razia had embraced the spiritual richness of her years in Jeddah. During her five-year tenure as a professor from 1981 to 1986, she performed the holy pilgrimage of Hajj five times. Nearly every weekend, she undertook Umrah with quiet devotion, finding renewed peace in each visit. She also ensured that her loved ones shared in these sacred blessings—her husband, her sister Naseem, her brother Ather, and her son Shaji all performed Umrahs under her encouragement, while her daughter completed the Hajj, and numerous Umrahs during that time as well.

Razia carried this deep spirituality into her family life, teaching her children and grandchildren to pray, to fast, to understand about Hajj, and Hadith, and to nurture a steadfast connection to their faith—an inheritance that would guide them long after her time.

However, Razia was a woman whose identity was defined by multiple regions of
the world whether South Asia, the Middle East or America. She grew up in British-ruled India, receiving her education from Christian and Zoroastrian teachers within a largely Hindu population. As a result, she always valued individuals of all faiths, based on their
personality, accomplishments and intellectual worth. She valued the
education her children received in Catholic schools. She spoke of the
tradition of forgiveness as the core value of the Christian faith. She
knew the heroic tales of the epic Mahabharat. She deeply admired the art of
Indian classical dancing such as Bharata Natyam and Kathak. She often reminisced about the beautiful ballets drawn from Hindu mythology and performed by students at Lady Irwin College in Delhi. She could quote Shaekespeare's Twelfth Night with as much ease as the Urdu poetry of Mirza Ghalib, and also the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam in fluent Farsi, stunning her Persian friends. Her broad-mindedness and cultural appreciation were enriched by her travels in her youth and international academic experiences.

Razia’s daughter, Tasneem, went on to become an Internist, with a private practice in California, while her son, Shaji, settled as a gastroenterologist in Arizona. Among her granddaughters, Ayesha graduated from University of California at  Berkeley, with a degree in Cognitive Science. Zoya completed her studies at the University of British Columbia, earning a degree in Management with a Minor in Computer Science, and is now pursuing her Master’s in Accounting. Nadia, the youngest, is a dedicated mathematics student at Arizona State University.

For Razia, the academic and professional accomplishments of her children and grandchildren were her greatest pride—her ultimate reward for a lifetime of sacrifice, guidance, and unwavering faith in the power of education. She remained grateful to her husband, whose steady support helped make this shared dream for their children a reality.

Razia passed away peacefully on October 19, 2025, at the age of 95. Her daughter remained by her side through the night, keeping a vigil to ensure she felt no discomfort or unrest. Surrounded by serenity, she slipped away naturally—resting comfortably in her own bed as the soft recitation of Qur’anic verses played nearby. It was a natural and calm departure, reflective of the resilience with which she had lived her life. 

In her final years, Razia received devoted care from a wonderful team of caregivers: Linda, Susanna, John, Christine - and of course, Ante and Alan. They provided her with attentive, compassionate support in every aspect of daily life, from meals and medication to companionship and comfort. Razia often greeted their efforts with her characteristic humor, exclaiming, “Too much care!". Their care was warm and attentive, and they approached the task with confidence, never hesitating despite the fact that her daughter and son-in-law were doctors.

To her daughter, she would often say with a smile, “Why do you give me all these medicines? Now I might live forever!” Then, with a gentle sigh, she would add, “No one in my family ever lived this long. I’m so lucky to have a daughter like you.”

Yet, she deeply appreciated everyone and often blessed them with her heartfelt wishes: “Jeete raho” and “Live a long and happy life.” 

Special mention must be made of Aminah and Misbah, whose dedication to their' Razia Auntie' went far beyond ordinary care. They visited her regularly, bringing unlimited stacks of Urdu magazines from Hyderabad  and providing a calming presence that brought her immense peace and comfort. They would sit with Razia and talk with her about her day, sharing small moments and familiar routines, and in her daughter’s absence, they stepped in to offer the comfort and attention she would have given. They stayed with her through every moment, offering care in countless small ways, and did not leave her side until the very end.

Through her distinguished career, Razia remained financially independent to the very end, a source of strength throughout her life. Her legacy lives on in the lives she touched, the women she empowered, and the family she loved. Her life reminds us of the boundless power of education and the courage to challenge conventions. 

Though she is no longer with us, the love and wisdom she left behind will continue to guide and inspire generations to come.

Dear mom, the loss is immeasurable but also the love you left behind.

(This orbituary/summary of Razia's life was written by Tasneem, her daughter)