भारतीय इतिहास के ६ स्वर्णिम पृष्ठ (वीर सावरकर - विदेशी आक्रान्ताओं पर विजय गाथा)

Question not, reason not, nay even fear not, only believe in the Bible, in our
Lord Jesus the Christ, and thou art saved. Leave all and follow me, says the
Christ! But all of a sudden, an angry voice interrupted him here and
throwing back the crowd of many a respectable representative of scores of
other prophets and Gospels. each claiming his book as the real God-sent
book that had been waiting there to take a chance of finding a new recruit in
me to their respective faiths, an excited moulavi darted forth and simply
commanded me to believe none else but him. ‘Behold’, said he, stroking his
beard with fiery restlessness ‘behold this Holy Koran! Abraham and Musa
and Isa and other Prophets were prophets indeed but their works, these old
and new testaments are, as men now possess, full of interpolations and
absurdities. As to the Vedas, it is sacrilege even to name that mumbo-Jumbo
of idolatrous crowd along with the works of prophets that went before. It
was to end the reign of these scheming impostors that God ordered the last
and the greatest of the line of his prophets, Mohomed the Prophet—be his
name ever blest, to reveal the Holy Koran on earth. This and this alone is
God’s work, all else is the work of Satan. And the only way how man
should read it and nothing else! Trust it and reason not. If they do so well
and good: if they don’t, to eternal perdition they go!’ At this outburst of this
zealous Moulavi, those representatives of several other Gospels who were
waiting with equal earnestness to do me a good turn of saving my soul by
recommending to me their respective Gospels as the only authentic ones,
gently fell back to avoid any unpleasant development their intrusion seemed
likely to cause. But I myself rose up and approaching them requested to
oblige me by favouring me with a copy of each of their own Gospels and
assuring, said, ‘Gentlemen, I revere every one of these God-sent books as
deeply as you do though perhaps for reasons other than yours. All these
books that claim to be divine revelations are doubtless a precious treasure,
which men will do well to guard and preserve and use for their benefit.
God-sent or not they are partly Godly indeed. It cannot be for nothing that
millions of men have for generations owed allegiance to them and many a
soul might have found a solace in them as in no other wordly thing.’ Being
requested thus, they all presented me with copies of their religious books—
the stately looking Parsee who kept watching over conversation but seemed
very reluctant to show off his sacred book as the hawkers do their tinsels in
the market place, presented me a copy of the ancient and renowned
Zendavesta; the yellow-clad Bhikku of his venerated and venerable and