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vol. title: Vol Four of The Theosophical Society of The Arya Samaj of Arya-wart vol. period: Sept 1878 – Sept 1879 pages in vol.: 350 |
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A Mahomedan in Search of Religion
The following story is made out from facts as they were placed before us this week by an interesting young Mahomedan, who related them in such a quaint and simple way, as left no doubt in our mind that he was speaking the truth We had best allow him to relate his history for himself.
I was born in Bombay about seventeen years ago of parents, who moved in the middle walk of life, for they were neither very rich nor very poor. They were devout, or rather bigoted followers of the Koran. My early education was neglected, and the little English I speak I have either gathered up in the streets or from stray books which have come across me during the time I have been in search for a religion. I can never forget the indulgence with which they humoured my short-comings. I was allowed to range at will—among street-boys, in filthy lanes, where day-light does not pierce, and in the company of vagabonds and rascals. This was my early education.
My mother died four years ago. This was the first serious misfortune of my life. It awoke me, young as I was, from dreams of idleness, and displayed to my wondering eyes a future so dark and threatening, that the roses of youth deserted my cheeks, and I fell into a long fit of despondency. I remember, with what strange beating of the heart I was wont to visit my mother’s tomb, scalter, fresh flowers on the cold stone, and recite passages from the Koran with a fervour, which, considering that I did not understand Arabic, was, I believe, excited by nothing short of frenzy. All this availed nothing. The Koran, as days glided by, had no more charms for my wearied spirit. My father’s harshness increased as he watched my moodiness and in attention towards the Book which Mahomed had brought from heaven.
It was about this time a feeling took entire possession of my soul—I thirsted, I pined for knowledge. I tried to borrow books from friends, after I had mastered the English alphabet; but books are not plentiful among the Mahomedans, and those which they had I cared not to read. I, one day, happened to pass along the street, known as the Kalbadevie Road, and beheld with emotion a large black board with these words painted in white—Bible Society’s Depository. With slow and and cautious steps I entered the sacred precints, where knowledge was to be had for money. I noticed as I entered an European, a Scotpman I believe, with his hat off, and standing reading by a desk. He nodded to me kindly as I entered and asked me politely what I wanted. In trembling accents I whispered—Howard’s First Reading Book. I asked him what I was to pay for it. “Oh! never mind”, said he; and off he jumped into an inner room, and returned with—would you believe it—a copy of the New Testament! I, who stood a <... continues on page 8-154 >
Editor's notes
- ↑ A Mahomedan in Search of Religion by unknown author, Indian Spectator, The, Sunday, March 23, 1879