Fazl-e-Umar

by Mujeebur Rahman

Page 25 of 408

Fazl-e-Umar — Page 25

Fazle Umar 25 This incident carries a singular charm and is worthy to be written in gilded letters among the principles of character development. To take a few twigs for toothbrushes from a tree fallen by the side of a road is not deemed to be such a moral crime to be considered as an act of stealing for which a religious or civil court would propose a punishment or reprimand. Normally people make toothbrushes from the trees still standing and to take prior permission is unheard of, although it is the right of the owner if he so wishes he can prevent it. On this occasion if the Promised Messiah [as] had stopped them, it would have amounted to applying such a strict moral code on ordinary people that it would have become an overwhelming responsibility. Despite that, the high moral station to which Allah had appointed the Promised Messiah [as] , this minor speck of dust would not befit the shining face of his elegance. This minor speck of dust which an ordinary man has no capacity even to see with his naked eye, the Promised Messiah [as] liked to see neither on himself nor on that Promised Son who in his own time would take on the responsibility to adorn the morals of the whole world. However, he said nothing to his companions so that their feelings were not hurt should they be stopped formally. Thus the beauty of the incident lies in his remaining silent despite disliking it for himself. His silence was subtle but irrefutable evidence that there was not the least trace of pretence or conceit in this man, otherwise what a great opportunity it was to display the high station of one’s piety. As long as the child did not compel him by repeating his question he continued his walk hiding his noble decision from the admiring eyes. Even when he was compelled to speak, how loving was his manner of forbidding. In answer he raised a small question. “Tell me child with whose permission were these toothbrushes obtained?” There is no pretence of piety, no vanity. There is no unpleasantness in admonish- ing, no harshness. Smiling, he raises a question wrapped in gentle words, ‘my child tell me?’