In the blessed month of Ramadan, when hearts overflow with mercy and the faithful fast from dawn till dusk in devotion, a venomous cobra coils through Lahore’s bustling bazaars: the sharp, artificial rise in prices. Tomatoes soar from Rs80 to Rs160 per kg, chicken grips at Rs550, bananas taunt the poor at Rs350 a dozen—while government rate lists fade unnoticed on shop walls like forgotten promises.

Quality fades, portions shrink, and the humble iftar table turns into a quiet struggle against scarcity. This is no twist of fate; it is deliberate wrongdoing, a deep wound to the community during its most sacred time.

The Almighty warns clearly against such deceit in trade:
“Woe to those who give less than due, who, when they take a measure from people, take in full. But if they give by measure or by weight to them, they cause loss.” (Surah Al-Mutaffifin, 83:1-3)
This divine rebuke targets not simple error but intentional fraud—short measures, hoarding, and inflating costs to prey on need. In Ramadan, when hunger and generosity rise together, such acts cut twice as deep, defying the spirit of compassion that defines the month.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him) showed the perfect remedy. As the leader of the state, he did not leave justice to far-off officials; he walked the markets himself to check quality, quantity, and prices. Reliable accounts tell of him moving through Madinah’s suqs, examining scales, revealing tricks like wet grains hidden under dry ones to fool buyers, and proclaiming: “He who cheats is not from us.” In another saying, he condemned hoarders: “No one withholds goods till their price rises but a sinner.”

His direct oversight kept the economy steady, pleased the people, and filled traders with a healthy fear of accountability. No grand processions, no heavy guards—just humble, approachable leadership from the greatest guide humanity has known.

Today in Punjab, the scene is starkly different. Deputy Commissioners release printed rate lists, the Chief Minister pledges firm action, special teams carry out occasional raids—but the cobra strikes freely. Shopkeepers ignore rules in plain sight; middlemen stockpile basics; the vulnerable pay extra for inferior goods.

Officials stay sheltered in cool offices, stepping out only with escorts and ceremony. Where is the example of the Prophet? Why can’t officers—clad plainly, without warning—slip quietly into Anarkali ,Liberty Market [Lahore], Raja Bazaar,[Rawalpindi], Chhapr bazaar [Chakwal] or Sorri gali [sahiwal] during rush hours? Watch the real prices paid by daily-wage workers and widows, challenge cheats face-to-face, levy fines instantly, and expose violations publicly. Such unannounced visits would curb the poison far better than empty orders.

History bears witness to this truth. In the early caliphate, Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab patrolled markets in disguise at night, upholding fair weights and confronting the unfair. The renowned Caliph Harun al-Rashid, a celebrated warrior-leader, often dressed as an ordinary person to wander Baghdad’s bazaars, discovering hoarding and injustice, then delivering swift justice. Even in our own time, former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif took surprise walks through Islamabad’s markets in 2015, uncovering overcharges and ordering immediate fixes.

And consider Ertuğrul Ghazi—the full name of the great 13th-century Turkish leader known in popular tales as Sultan Ertuğrul Ghazi, father of Osman I who founded the mighty Ottoman Empire. As a frontier warrior and just ruler of his tribe, he embodied fairness and vigilance, protecting the weak and ensuring equity in community affairs. His legacy of principled leadership reminds us that true rulers stay close to the people’s realities, not distant from them.

Urdu poetry has always voiced the pain of injustice in life’s marketplace. Hear the timeless call:
“Walk the path of justice, do not open the shop of oppression;
By robbing the poor of their rights, the door to paradise will shut.”

Another verse burns with sorrow:
“In the fire of inflation, people burn in the market;
No justice, no mercy—only the clamour of wealth.”
The poet’s cry for the fasting ones:
“Fasting, the poor agonise for iftar;
A cobra sits on the shops, spewing venom on every item.”

And the plea for renewal:
“Like Umar and Harun, descend into the market;
No protocol, no noise—bring only the light of justice.”

These lines are more than words; they are the heart’s outcry against wrong, pressing leaders to rise and act.

The suffering is real and raw. Families skip nourishing foods for Sehri, sink into debt, face illness from tainted items—all while Ramadan calls for open-handed kindness. In a nation where most follow Islam, failing to guard citizens’ tables in this month is a grave moral failing. It mocks the Prophet’s way, chips away at trust, and risks divine displeasure.

Look across the world for a striking contrast. In the last weeks of December in Europe and the USA, shopkeepers dramatically lower prices to honour the holy Christmas season. Stores flood with deep cuts—often 50% to 70% off, buy-one-get-one-free offers on toys, clothes, and food, massive clearance sales, and special promotions on essentials. These reductions make the festive joy reachable for everyone, especially poorer families who might otherwise struggle. Retailers understand that true celebration includes sharing abundance, not hoarding profit. Why can’t our markets show similar mercy in Ramadan? A holy month deserves holy generosity.

Reviving the Prophet’s practice needs no upheaval—only resolve. Let Punjab’s leaders require protocol-free market walks by Deputy Commissioners and assistants throughout Ramadan. Announce a few at first, then keep them routine and secret. Combine them with wider subsidised bazaars, tough penalties on hoarding, and easy complaint lines. Traders will pause before cheating if they know watchful eyes can appear at any moment, like a shadow of true accountability.

This is not looking backwards; it is reclaiming our rich Islamic tradition for fairness today. As the Prophet taught, real leadership walks beside the people, not high above them. May Ramadan 2026 be remembered not for the cobra’s bite, but for the rebirth of oversight—the radiance of justice chasing darkness from our bazaars.

May Allah guide our leaders to follow the finest example—the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him)—and lighten the load on His servants. Ameen.