Even in my very own village where our mosque is situated, there used to be an area occupied by government officials. This was during my childhood days, but I have heard from credible sources that when the British assumed rule, for some days the old laws prevailed. A certain official was in the area and he was accompa- nied by a Muslim soldier who came to the mosque and told the muezzin to make the call to Prayer. The muezzin made the call for prayer in the same murmuring voice as he was accustomed, to which the soldier said: ‘Is this how you make the call to Prayer?’ ‘Yes,’ said the muezzin. ‘No’, the soldier responded, ‘climb onto the roof of the mosque and make the call to Prayer in a loud voice; and do so in the loudest possible voice.’ The muezzin was apprehensive, but then he finally made the call to Prayer in a resonating voice. All the Hindus got together and took hold of the mullah. The poor man was petrified and was worried that the officer would hang him. The soldier reassured him saying : ‘I am with you.’ Ultimately, the cruel, brutal Brahmans apprehended him, whereafter they took him to the official and said: ‘Your honour! This man has corrupted us.’ The official, of course, knew that rule had shifted and that the Sikh regime was no longer in power, yet he still inquired in somewhat of a soft tone: ‘Why have you made the call to Prayer in a loud voice?’ The soldier stepped forward and said: ‘It was not him, but I who made the call to Prayer.’ The official addressed the mob and said: ‘You wretched people! What is all this uproar. In Lahore, the cow is now openly slaughtered without restrictions and you are wailing over the Muslim call to Prayer. Be gone and sit in peace.’
In short, my heart truly and honestly believes that it is a grave ingratitude and disloyalty to not acknowledge the favour of a people who have delivered us from the lowest depths.