Is it still an Islamic country, where Allah’s Rahman is being replaced with Ram?
It was last Friday when I came out of a nearby masjid after Juma prayer, walking toward my car with the serenity of the sermon still lingering in my heart. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the streets of Lahore, but as I turned a corner, my eyes fell upon a newly erected street signboard. It read, in bold letters: “Ram Gali.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if they were deceiving me in the heat of the moment. But it was real. Rahman Gali had been reverted to its old name from the Hindu era. A heart-breaking scene unfolded before me. With every ounce of strength, I suppressed a scream of wonder, “hirangi aur gham” — astonishment mixed with profound grief. In that serious mental condition, I heard a familiar chiming, the soft tinkling of brass bells. It grew louder, and there he was — my spiritual-philosophical guide, Baba Tal [the bell-man], standing beside me. “Bacha!” he whispered in his habitual gentle tone. “Look into my eyes.” I looked up. Oh Allah! His eyes carried vast deserts of history, like an eyewitness to the rise and fall of empires. “Don’t be grieved,” he uttered, taking a deep breath. “These ruling oligarchs have made horrible mistakes, but history never spares them from the consequences. Just wait… if they do not correct themselves, history’s watching eyes are always not only open but widely open and attentive. Be patient.” He smiled softly and added, “Cheer up — Islam always stands victorious!” Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, the chiming of his brass bells on his navy blue robe fading into the distance.
That encounter left me reflecting deeply on the Punjab government’s recent decisions under the Lahore Heritage Areas Revival initiative. The restoration of pre-1947 names — Islampura to Krishan Nagar, Mustafabad to Dharampura, Babri Masjid Chowk to Jain Mandir Chowk, and especially Rahman Gali to Ram Gali — is not a simple administrative exercise. It touches the soul of our identity as a nation.
Rahman is not just any name. It is Ar-Rahman, one of the 99 Beautiful Names of Allah Almighty, denoting the Most Merciful, the Most Gracious. To see it replaced with Ram — a central deity in Hindu tradition — under the guise of “sacred history” revival raises fundamental questions about the direction of our Islamic Republic. Is this heritage preservation, or a selective erasure that risks diluting the very foundations upon which Pakistan was built?
The Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him) emphasiblzed the importance of names and identity. In one Hadith narrated in Sunan Abu Dawud, he said:
“Whoever imitates a people is from them.”
This warning against blind imitation is profound. When we systematically replace names tied to Islamic reverence with those from pre-Partition eras associated with other faiths, are we not treading close to this imitation? Another Hadith in Sahih Bukhari and Muslim stresses preserving lineage and identity: the Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings be upon him) cursed those who knowingly claim false parentage or alter their essential heritage in ways that confuse truth. A third relevant narration from the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) involves changing names that carried negative or idolatrous connotations to ones aligned with Tawhid and goodness, such as changing “Abd al-Uzza” (servant of Uzza) to names honoring Allah. These teachings remind us that names carry spiritual weight — they are not mere labels but reflections of belief.
The Holy Quran provides clear guidance on maintaining distinct identity. In Surah Al-Ma’idah (5:51), Allah warns:
“O you who have believed, do not take the Jews and the Christians as allies. They are allies of one another. And whoever is an ally to them among you — then indeed, he is one of them.”
This verse, while contextual to alliances, extends in tafsir to caution against cultural and ideological assimilation that erodes faith. Similarly, Surah Al-An’am (6:153) commands:
“This is My straight path, so follow it and do not follow other ways, lest they lead you away from His way. This has He instructed you that you may become righteous.”
These divine words urge us to stay firm on the path of Islam without veering into paths that dilute our ummah’s uniqueness. Another verse from Surah Al-Hujurat (49:13) reminds us of diverse tribes and peoples created to know one another, yet the noblest is the most righteous — not those who blur boundaries for nostalgia.
As I ponder these revelations, Baba Tal’s words echo again in my mind. Later that evening, as I sat in my study with the irregular rhythm of my heart reminding me of my vulnerabilities as a declared heart patient, the “bell-man” seemed to reappear in my thoughts. “Bacha,” his whisper returned, “history is a witness with wide-open eyes. The blood of martyrs demands fidelity, not fashionable reversals.”
This selective restoration raises inconsistencies. Consider the Sharif family’s own attachment to history. Their grand estate near Lahore, Jati Umra, is named after their ancestral village in Indian Punjab’s Amritsar region. The family traces roots to the Bhat (or Bhatt) tribe, with Kashmiri Brahmin ancestry before embracing Islam. They proudly maintain this link across the 1947 divide. If personal heritage is sacred, why not apply the same lens broadly? Why not encourage prominent families to revive tribal identifiers like Bhat in public discourse? True heritage revival should not be one-sided.
Punjab’s ancient names further illustrate the layered past. In Vedic times, it was Sapta Sindhu — the Land of Seven Rivers — a cradle of Indic civilization shared across what is now divided. The Rigveda sings of its rivers: Vitasta (Jhelum), Asikni (Chenab), and others. Persians called it Panj-Ab, evolving into Punjab. Greeks knew it as Pentapotamia. Yet Pakistan’s creation in 1947 was a rejection of a singular “Hindustan” identity. The Two-Nation Theory, articulated by Allama Muhammad Iqbal and Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah, posited that Muslims and Hindus constituted two distinct nations, culturally, religiously, and politically. Partition was not mere geography; it was a covenant for dignity.
The sacrifices were immense. My own grandfather and innocent princess of my mother, my elder sister were martyred on the borders in 1947. Their blood, along with that of countless others — estimates of 72,000 Punjabi Muslim women and children lost in the violence — watered the foundations of this homeland. That sacred blood was offered so we might live as Muslims in an Islamic state, not as a footnote in a revived “HindthAsthan.”
Milan Kundera, the Czech writer, once observed:
“The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting.”
In the West, thinkers have long warned against cultural erasure. George Orwell in 1984 wrote, “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.”
These quotes resonate today. When we rewrite street names to favor one layer of history over the Islamic character forged in blood, we risk controlling the narrative in ways that forget 1947’s purpose. Western philosophers like Nietzsche spoke of the “use and abuse of history” — how excessive nostalgia for the past can paralyze the present if not balanced with current realities.
Baba Tal’s wisdom visited me once more in a dream-like reflection days later. As I walked past another altered sign, his chiming bells announced his presence in my conscience. “Bacha,” he whispered,
“these changes may seem small, like drops in the river of time, but rivers can change course. Oligarchs forget that the ummah’s spirit is resilient. Cheer up — victory belongs to those who hold firm to faith.”
His words, like the bells on his robe, lingered, urging patience and steadfastness.
The Lahore project, part of broader “Magnificent Punjab” ambitions, aims at tourism and reconnecting with syncretic heritage — Lawrence Gardens back from Bagh-e-Jinnah, Brandreth Road from Nishtar, Queen’s Road from Fatima Jinnah. Some restorations honor colonial architecture and shared Punjabi culture without harm. Preserving old temples, gurdwaras, or British-era names where neutral is commendable. Lahore’s history as a Mughal jewel, a Sikh capital under Ranjit Singh, and a British cantonment is rich. Yet when Islamic names like Rehman are swapped for Ram, or Islampura for Krishan Nagar, it crosses into provocation.
No credible plans exist for a “Greater Punjab” reuniting with Indian Punjab or constitutional reversion to “Hindustan.” Such ideas remain rhetorical or fringe. Sindh province shows no parallel momentum, focusing instead on building conservation. The Punjab moves appear tied to domestic politics, heritage tourism under The Punjab government, and Punjabi cultural pride. Yet backlash has led to reports of deferrals or scaling back on sensitive changes.
This is not the end of the film; the story continues. As a heart patient, my irregular pulse quickens with these thoughts, but my pen moves with Hejazi spirit — honest, wounded, yet hopeful. We must ask the learned Muftis and scholars respectfully: کیا فرماتے ہیں مفتیاں اس مسئلے میں? Does replacing Allah’s merciful name align with Pakistan’s Islamic soul and the Two-Nation Theory? We must ensure heritage efforts do not unintentionally wound the nation’s purpose.
Allah’s Rehman Erased for Ram under heritage banners creates confusion for youth and reopens Partition scars. True revival strengthens identity. Restore beautiful elements — old chowks, gardens — but safeguard the Islamic character born from sacrifice. Punjab’s magnificence lies in its layers, yet Pakistan exists because shared past was insufficient for Muslim security.
Let wisdom guide our rulers. History watches with attentive eyes, as Baba Tal reminds. Islam stands victorious through fidelity, not dilution. May Allah protect our homeland’s soul, grant peace to martyrs’ spirits, and heal bleeding hearts like mine.
In the words of the Quran (Surah Al-Asr 103:1-3):
“By time, indeed mankind is in loss, except for those who have believed and done righteous deeds and advised each other to truth and advised each other to patience.”
In these testing times, let us hold to belief, deeds, truth, and patience.
The film continues. We must write its next acts with wisdom, not haste.
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