Built by Sikh Guru Hargobind Singh, the historic site is now maintained by Nihang Sikhs after the exodus of Muslims in 1947
Mohammad bin Ismail | Clarion India
NEW DELHI – A 17th-century mosque in Punjab’s Hargobindpur, hailed by UNESCO and the UNDP as a landmark of interfaith harmony, today stands silent—its prayer halls empty of worshippers. Known as the Guru’s Mosque, it was constructed on the orders of Sikh Guru Hargobind Singh for the area’s Muslim minority. Now, centuries later, though meticulously preserved by Sikh caretakers, there are no Muslims to offer prayers within its walls.
The mosque’s origins trace back to the early 16th century, when Guru Hargobind Singh, the sixth Sikh Guru, established the town of Hargobindpur near the Beas River. Amid rising religious tensions under Emperor Jahangir, the Guru—known for his dual emphasis on spiritual and martial strength (symbolised by his two swords, “Piri” and “Miri”)—took an extraordinary step.
Learning that the small Muslim population lacked a place of worship, he ordered the construction of a mosque on a nearby hillock. “It was Guru Ji’s principle that no one should be denied their faith,” says Baldev Singh, a local historian. “He ensured Muslims had a space to pray, even when their numbers were few.”
For centuries, the mosque echoed with the azan (call to prayer)—until the partition of India in 1947, when Hargobindpur’s Muslim families migrated to Pakistan. Left vacant, the mosque could have crumbled, but its Sikh neighbours refused to let history fade.
In the 1990s, the Punjab Waqf Board approached Sikh leaders, requesting its restoration. “We told them, this is not just a mosque—it’s Guru Ji’s gift,” recalls Nihang leader Baba Prem Singh. Historians agreed, and in 2002, Sikh volunteers led its renovation.
The mosque’s revival caught global attention when UNESCO and UNDP’s “Culture for Peace” project celebrated it as a “monument of tolerance” in 2003. At its reopening, Maulana Hamid Hussain Qasmi, then Imam of Amritsar’s Jama Masjid, led Eid prayers—a moment of unity in a now Muslim-less town.
Today, the mosque’s upkeep falls to Nihang Sikhs, who maintain it with reverence. “We sweep its floors, repair its walls—just as our ancestors honoured Guru Ji’s wish,” says Sevadar Joginder Singh. Yet, with no local Muslims, prayers are rare.
Scholars argue its value lies beyond worship. “This mosque is proof that coexistence wasn’t just an ideal—it was practiced,” says Dr Anjum Rehman, a historian of Punjab. “Its silence today speaks volumes.”
As the Guru’s Mosque stands—a pristine relic of a shared past—the question lingers: can symbols alone keep the spirit of tolerance alive? For now, its caretakers answer with action. “We guard this heritage,” says Baba Prem Singh. “Because Guru Ji taught us: faith is for all.”
