Only recently, bodies of two Pakistani youngsters martyred in Lebanon were flown back to their homeland. They, like many other Pakistani youngsters, had left their homes to join their Palestinian brothers in the struggle to free Bait al-Maqdis. Another news-report states that over 300 youngsters from Bangladesh are expected to join the Palestinian mujahideen in the fight against the Zionists. In Afghanistan, according to very reliable sources, quite a few Arab and Iranian youngsters have joined the ranks of the mujahideen. Moreover, this writer has personally met two young Turkish students—one of whom was to join the mujahideen soon, while another had just returned from Afghanistan after having spent 3 months fighting the Russians in the rugged interiors of the country.

A question that often arises when reading such reports is: What is it that inspires these young Muslims to forsake their hearths and homes and enables them to live in extreme hardships, with death possibly just a ‘sneeze’ away? A variety of answers could be put forth. But the common reply would be, that it is the feeling of brotherhood among Muslims the world- over, pan-lslamism, so to say, that forces such youngsters to risk their lives and properties in the cause of their Muslim brothers, even in distant lands. Another answer equally common is that the Muslim is ever-anxious to be martyred, in the hope that he would ‘inherit the promised Heaven’. These contentions are not wrong in themselves, but they fail to bring out what are the real motivating factors, which distinguish a Muslim mujahid from a non-muslim mercenary. An incident that transpired during my stay in Peshawar would, perhaps, illustrate what exactly is uppermost in the minds of those who fight in the Path of Allah.

It was the second day of my stay in Peshawar. The night was spent in a small, dusty room in one of the shanty hotels that abound the Janes of Qissa-Kahni Bazaar. Rashad, a Turkish youngster whom I met in the train that brought us to Peshawar, shared the stifling ‘double-room’ with me.

Rashad and I first met Bakr in the Mahabet Khan Mosque. He was hardly 22, the same age as Rashad’s.

As evening fell, Bakr invited Rashad and me to camp in one of the Mujahideen offices. And to ensure that we don’t turn down his request, Bakr accompanied us to the hotel. As we were about to vacate the room, we were taken aback at the manager’s insistence that we pay room rent for the next day as well, despite the fact that we were leaving the hotel in right time.

Thinking the issue to be trivial, and more so since the money demanded was meager, I paid up. But Bakr did’nt seem to agree with me. His smiling countenance underwent a minor metamorphosis. Blood shot into his ears, as he, in broken Persian, began angrily demanding the money back from the manager. I tried my best to take Bakr away. But he would’nt budge an inch. Instead, everytime I told him to forget the issue, he would reply: “Fil Islam ‘Adl” ( In Islam is justice’); implying that an unjust act could not be let off without restoring status-quo.

The hotel manager—a short, stocky Pathan—seemed puzzled. He repeatedly asked me what Bakr was saying. For some time I parried the manager’s questions, but when his impatience grew and the frown on his face lengthend, I disclosed that Bakr was protesting the double charge extracted from us.

The moment the manager heard this his frown disappeared, his eyes lost their harshness. The next moment he opened a wooden drawer, took out the money and requested me to take it back. Seeing that I was hesitant, Bakr himself moved forward to collect it. Another few moments, and there was shaking of hands and introductions, even as the manager and his friends kept inviting us to drink tea with them.

To this day, whenever I recollect this incident, the words “ Fil Islam ‘Adl” reverberate in my ears. Whatever its other implications, this incident provides further proof of the fact that it is chiefly for establishing truth and justice, for redressal of wrongs, and for protecting the rights of the weak and the oppressed that a mujahid strives for even at the cost of all he possesses, and irrespective of whether the oppressor is himself a Muslim. How could these then be called ‘fanatics’, ‘rebels’, or ‘insurgents’.

Closer home, the Indian Muslim should seriously ponder whether or not his stoic indifference at the perennial and brutal oppression of Harijans only reflects the imperfection of his Islam!