My cat bit me

Have you been bitten by a cat? It is an awesome feeling – the pain when the canine sinks piercing the skin, fear of rabies resulting in sleepless nights and if you are vaccinophobic you are in for a treat.

My cat bit me. He’s semi stray non vaccinated white devil. Phunk!!! Bit me while I was asleep. This is not my first animal bite. I have been bitten & scratched by dogs, cats stung by wasps, bees. I probably am the most anti rabies vaccinated person in my town. The good thing is that advanced, small anti rabies have replaced those 1 litre each 14 injections. I had fortune of experiencing those painful old classics.

Anyone who has underwent the trauma of being bitten by rabid animal will truly thank the brilliant scientists who have developed the state of the art anti rabies vaccines. Scientists at Rabipur & Bharatbiotech save hundreds of lives daily. Unfortunately there is not drug available today to treat rabies in its final stage. That will be the day when such a drug is invented or a drug similar to polio drops which will guarantee immunity for life.

FYI: My cat is alive and well. It survived the 10 day incubation period. I have stopped the treatment

Why my father hated India

I first heard about Pakistan's Punjab governor Salman Taseer after he was assassinated by his security. He was murdered because he had raised his voice against Pakistan's notorious blasphemy law. He was a good man. He was a modern and liberal muslim. I thought a person like him would have neutral opinion of India until I read the following article. Aatish Taseer, the son of an assassinated Pakistani leader, explains the history and hysteria behind a deadly relationship

Why My Father Hated India

Ten days before he was assassinated in January, my father, Salman Taseer, sent out a tweet about an Indian rocket that had come down over the Bay of Bengal: "Why does India make fools of themselves messing in space technology? Stick 2 bollywood my advice."

My father was the governor of Punjab, Pakistan's largest province, and his tweet, with its taunt at India's misfortune, would have delighted his many thousands of followers. It fed straight into Pakistan's unhealthy obsession with India, the country from which it was carved in 1947.

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Agence France-Presse/Getty Images

Mohandas Gandhi visits Muslim refugees in New Delhi as they prepare to depart to Pakistan on Sept. 22, 1947.

Though my father's attitude went down well in Pakistan, it had caused considerable tension between us. I am half-Indian, raised in Delhi by my Indian mother: India is a country that I consider my own. When my father was killed by one of his own bodyguards for defending a Christian woman accused of blasphemy, we had not spoken for three years.

To understand the Pakistani obsession with India, to get a sense of its special edge—its hysteria—it is necessary to understand the rejection of India, its culture and past, that lies at the heart of the idea of Pakistan. This is not merely an academic question. Pakistan's animus toward India is the cause of both its unwillingness to fight Islamic extremism and its active complicity in undermining the aims of its ostensible ally, the United States.

The idea of Pakistan was first seriously formulated by neither a cleric nor a politician but by a poet. In 1930, Muhammad Iqbal, addressing the All-India Muslim league, made the case for a state in which India's Muslims would realize their "political and ethical essence." Though he was always vague about what the new state would be, he was quite clear about what it would not be: the old pluralistic society of India, with its composite culture.

Iqbal's vision took concrete shape in August 1947. Despite the partition of British India, it had seemed at first that there would be no transfer of populations. But violence erupted, and it quickly became clear that in the new homeland for India's Muslims, there would be no place for its non-Muslim communities. Pakistan and India came into being at the cost of a million lives and the largest migration in history.

This shared experience of carnage and loss is the foundation of the modern relationship between the two countries. In human terms, it meant that each of my parents, my father in Pakistan and my mother in India, grew up around symmetrically violent stories of uprooting and homelessness.

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Rex USA

Salman Taseer, governor of Pakistan's Punjab province, in May 2009. He was assassinated in January 2011.

But in Pakistan, the partition had another, deeper meaning. It raised big questions, in cultural and civilizational terms, about what its separation from India would mean.

In the absence of a true national identity, Pakistan defined itself by its opposition to India. It turned its back on all that had been common between Muslims and non-Muslims in the era before partition. Everything came under suspicion, from dress to customs to festivals, marriage rituals and literature. The new country set itself the task of erasing its association with the subcontinent, an association that many came to view as a contamination.

Had this assertion of national identity meant the casting out of something alien or foreign in favor of an organic or homegrown identity, it might have had an empowering effect. What made it self-wounding, even nihilistic, was that Pakistan, by asserting a new Arabized Islamic identity, rejected its own local and regional culture. In trying to turn its back on its shared past with India, Pakistan turned its back on itself.

But there was one problem: India was just across the border, and it was still its composite, pluralistic self, a place where nearly as many Muslims lived as in Pakistan. It was a daily reminder of the past that Pakistan had tried to erase.

Pakistan's existential confusion made itself apparent in the political turmoil of the decades after partition. The state failed to perform a single legal transfer of power; coups were commonplace. And yet, in 1980, my father would still have felt that the partition had not been a mistake, for one critical reason: India, for all its democracy and pluralism, was an economic disaster.

But in the early 1990s, a reversal began to occur in the fortunes of the two countries. The advantage that Pakistan had seemed to enjoy in the years after independence evaporated, as it became clear that the quest to rid itself of its Indian identity had come at a price: the emergence of a new and dangerous brand of Islam.

As India rose, thanks to economic liberalization, Pakistan withered. The country that had begun as a poet's utopia was reduced to ruin and insolvency.

The primary agent of this decline has been the Pakistani army. The beneficiary of vast amounts of American assistance and money—$11 billion since 9/11—the military has diverted a significant amount of these resources to arming itself against India. In Afghanistan, it has sought neither security nor stability but rather a backyard, which—once the Americans leave—might provide Pakistan with "strategic depth" against India.

In order to realize these objectives, the Pakistani army has led the U.S. in a dance, in which it had to be seen to be fighting the war on terror, but never so much as to actually win it, for its extension meant the continuing flow of American money. All this time the army kept alive a double game, in which some terror was fought and some—such as Laskhar-e-Tayyba's 2008 attack on Mumbai—actively supported.

The army's duplicity was exposed decisively this May, with the killing of Osama bin Laden in the garrison town of Abbottabad. It was only the last and most incriminating charge against an institution whose activities over the years have included the creation of the Taliban, the financing of international terrorism and the running of a lucrative trade in nuclear secrets.

This army, whose might has always been justified by the imaginary threat from India, has been more harmful to Pakistan than to anybody else. It has consumed annually a quarter of the country's wealth, undermined one civilian government after another and enriched itself through a range of economic interests, from bakeries and shopping malls to huge property holdings.

The reversal in the fortunes of the two countries—India's sudden prosperity and cultural power, seen next to the calamity of Muhammad Iqbal's unrealized utopia—is what explains the bitterness of my father's tweet just days before he died. It captures the rage of being forced to reject a culture of which you feel effortlessly a part—a culture that Pakistanis, via Bollywood, experience daily in their homes.

This rage is what makes it impossible to reduce Pakistan's obsession with India to matters of security or a land dispute in Kashmir. It can heal only when the wounds of 1947 are healed. And it should provoke no triumphalism in India, for behind the bluster and the bravado, there is arid pain and sadness.

—Mr. Taseer is the author of "Stranger to History: A Son's Journey Through Islamic Lands." His second novel, "Noon," will be published in the U.S. in September

Value for money: used laptops

Since I turned entrepreneur I have become a strong believer in the idea of 'value for money'. I bargain every purchase. I do this mostly for two major reasons 1) Its cool, makes me think of myself as a tough buyer (whatever that means) 2) I do not have much money left with me after I am done paying for my business & personal expenses. Saving money is on top of my list. I shop for my Levis & Benetton during discount sale. This is the time when prices appeal to my common sense. Also I don't mind shelling a bit extra for regular retail if the product is worth it. I go for it.

But there is one particular item that I will never pay to buy brand new no matter how lucrative the bargain : Laptops. I think buying a new laptop is waste of money, especially for budding entrepreneurs who need to bootstrap every expense. I cannot see myself paying Rs.35K - Rs.45K for a business laptop. No can do. I prefer to save my money and go for a used laptop. Usually I target 2-3 year old machines which are in great shape & offer reasonable computing power (Core2 Duo or greater).

So far I have purchased 2 used laptops, first was a Toshiba Portege M300 which I purchased for Rs.8.5K. It had a minor screen problem. It was my work horse & delivered awesome performance. It worked fine for 18 months & suddenly one evening it died. The screen went dark and never came back to life. My second purchase is a HP 2510p which I purchased in Dubai for Rs.10K recently. Btw I bargained for this one & secured a discount of Rs.0.5K :) It looks awesome and works fine. I am blogging using it.

I use my machines for browsing and checking my emails. I am not involved in high end computing stuff. So purchasing a second hand laptop makes sense for me. But you people out there please continue buying new, expensive & latest laptops and please sell them in 1-2 years. Thnx :)

Condition in Pakistan deteriorating rapidly

My letter on Pakistan's deteriorating condition was published in Sakal Times on 07/03/2011

http://epaper.sakaaltimes.com/SakaalTimes/7Mar2011/Enlarge/page8.htm

Following is the script

"Assassination of Pakistan’s minority’s minister Shahbaz Bhatti on 2^nd March & Punjab governer Salman Taseer in January depicts looming uncertainty and danger for the future of minority communities of Pakistan. Two sensible, bright and secular people have fallen victim to a ridiculous law instigated by people who did not understand the basic principle of religion ‘To Live & Let live’. Pakistan’s social fabric is deteriorating rapidly and is being replaced by a dangerous Molotov cocktail of hate, violence & fanaticism. Stephen Cohen, a prominent American political scientist, has said that Pakistan will be a failed state in next 6 years, a serious prediction for a nuclear power.

Pakistan’s economic condition is not healthy either; it is aided by IMF & US. To finance the high budget deficit Pakistan is printing Rs.200 crore everyday, a self destructing strategy which will lead to depreciation of Pak Rupee, loss of foreign currency reserves and hyper inflation. There is no major foreign investment coming in the country, long power cuts have crippled the domestic industry. Businesses are either closing down or are moving out which is leading to rising unemployment. Feudalism, insurgency in Baluchistan & Khyber Pakhtunwa region, regional water dispute, corruption, broken education system, security problem all are adding to the woes of the government headed by two very incompetent leaders. Pakistan today is in dire straits economically, socially, & politically."

India 2020: What will we be like?

Following was published in BUSINESS STANDARD on 02/01/2010.

Writer: T N Ninan

http://bit.ly/i7e2Vi

One overriding fact will define the coming decade for India: the high probability that it will continue to achieve economic growth at an annual rate of 9 per cent, give or take a percentage point. That will compare with an average of about 7.5 per cent for the first decade of the new century, and about 6 per cent in the last decade of the 20th.

In grand, macro-economic terms, that does not sound like a seminal shift, for GDP will go up from Rs 60 lakh crore today (about $1.3 trillion) to 2.2 times that figure a decade from now. India’s GDP in 2020, at just under $3 trillion at today’s prices and exchange rates, would be less than two-thirds of what China has already achieved in 2009: $4.6 trillion.

In global rankings, too, there will be relatively small shifts — India will have become bigger than Russia and Brazil (two of the BRIC economies), and should also overtake Canada and Spain. It will therefore become the eighth largest economy in the world, as against the twelfth largest today. And per capita income will have doubled to become a little better than where Sri Lanka’s is today!

These are substantial changes, but essentially incremental, and therefore none of them earthshaking. India’s share of global GDP, for instance, will be only slightly better than 4 per cent even in 2020 — well short of the 24 per cent that prevailed more than three centuries ago, and not much better than the 3.8 per cent of 1952! The more exciting story, therefore, will lie in the scale change that will become evident in specific markets. We have seen over the past decade how this works — the number of new mobile phone connections has gone from 0.1 million per month in 1999 to 10 million now, an increase of a hundredfold. And total mobile connections have gone from less than 10 million to over 500 million.

What has happened in mobile phones will happen in many fields over the coming decade. Chiefly because the number of households with a monthly income of Rs 25,000 and more should more than treble, from about 30 million today to 100 million by 2020, with their average income becoming at least twice what it is today. In other words, the spending power of the middle class will multiply six-fold. Depending on which way spending patterns move, some markets will grow tenfold in the next decade. That kind of scale change will be the real story — mimicking the software business, whose exports have grown from $5.7 billion 10 years ago to about $50 billion now. So when you pick the next crop of stars in the world of business, think carefully.

Airbus, for instance, has said that India’s will be the fastest growing aviation market in the next 20 years (growing faster even than China’s, which already has over 800 domestic planes, compared to about 200 in India). India will also be the fifth or sixth largest maker of, as well as market for, cars. And since India by the end of the coming decade will account for 10 to 12 per cent of world economic growth, the country will become a gigantic magnet (once again) for the world’s companies that will come to do business. It won’t be a repeat of the East India Company story, but expect much greater internationalisation of the economy, especially if the ageing populations of Europe and Japan translate into little or no growth in what are today the centres of economic activity, driving their companies to look for growth elsewhere — as is already happening.

The advent of scale change in India will create turmoil in global markets. If India’s oil demand more than doubles over the next 10 years, and China’s does the same, oil producers will have to deliver an extra 9 million barrels of oil per day to feed the extra demand from just these two countries. Since the total increase in world oil production in the last three decades was barely 9 mbd, don’t be surprised if oil prices catch fire at some point in the next few years.

It’s going to be a disruptive decade ahead for other markets too: in metals, energy and even agro-commodities, as Indian demand starts looking more like what Chinese demand has been in the recent past. If this explains why China has been busy in a one-country race to grab the world’s resources, wherever they may be, perhaps it is time India took the natural resource game a little more seriously.

Domestically, the new game in town will be manufacturing. As the domestic market grows, domestic manufacture cannot be far behind. The problem, of course, is that in the age of climate change, this becomes highly problematic. More immediately, expect bitter battles over land. The harsh fact is that India has 350 people per square kilometre — something like eight or 10 times the global average. By the end of the decade, it could be 400 people per sq km. Typically, then, if a large industrial project or power plant wants 5,000 hectares of land (or 50 sq km), it could displace as many as 20,000 people. Less, if the land is in an under-populated area, but still substantial. Assume the setting up of dozens of such projects: in power alone, the country will need the equivalent of 40 ultra-mega projects of 4,000 mw each; in steel, domestic consumption could go up from 46 million tonnes today to perhaps 150 million tonnes. To feed such demand and to make way for such projects, we are talking of displacing millions of people in the coming decade. The question of whether this is feasible, and where the displaced people are to go, will be one of the prime issues of the decade — especially in heavily populated states like West Bengal, where population density is thrice as high as the national average (over 1,000 people per sq km).

Nevertheless, expect sustained improvement in India’s socio-economic indicators — like a halving of the percentage of people below whichever poverty line you choose, a literacy rate by 2020 of 80 per cent (close to today’s world average of 84 per cent), and life expectancy finally crossing the 70-year mark, perhaps even approaching 75 years. All this will be achieved despite manifest deficiencies of governance, and the imperfect delivery of public health and education services by government agencies. Perhaps because of these, India will continue to have only a “medium” category score of about 0.7 on the human development index, short of the 0.8 that would categorise it as having a “high” score. The index for India in 2007 was 0.61.

With many of these changes, and greater urbanisation — more than a third of the people should be living in towns and cities in 2020 — politics can be expected to undergo a change, for the better. Citizens will be less concerned about voting their caste; instead, they will cast their vote for the politicians who they think are more likely to provide them with electricity, water, good public transport and clean air.

What can make this scenario come unstuck? Plenty, actually. One can list the growing inequalities in the system — of income, wealth and opportunity, the challenge of jihadi terrorism, the criminalisation of politics, the dramatic increase in the scale of political corruption, and the threat to the established order posed by the Maoists. These are obvious, because they are urgent issues even today.

An issue which has not received much attention comes from businessmen, because the bald truth is that India’s capitalists have failed capitalism. Take the business story that ran through the last year: the feud between the Ambani brothers over the supply and pricing of gas. The skeletons come tumbling out of the cupboard every time there is such a fight, and what comes out isn’t a pretty sight.

No one also needs reminding that 2009 began with the breaking of the Satyam Computers scandal, the founder-chairman’s arrest, and the company’s collapse and its subsequent sale. Other headline events during the year included the scandal over the handing out of telecom licences, with an inquiry by the Central Bureau of Investigation under way. There was also the Koda affair, with Rs 2,000 crore of unaccounted money being linked to the handing out of no fewer than 47 mining leases in a single day.

The headlines suggest the thesis that India’s businessmen and politicians have come together to make hay from the push towards a market economy — and thereby undermined the effort.

To be sure, businessmen have also shown that India’s private sector works. There are Nano and Swach, the dramatic spread of telecom services, the greater efficiencies achieved through privatising Delhi’s power supply, the steady flow of consumer goods of greater quality at reduced prices, the increased efficiency of companies like Maruti, the green initiatives of ITC…

But it is dangerous to turn a blind eye to the dark side, especially if the country seems to be undergoing a dangerous transition from the era of crony capitalists to the era of oligarchs — businessmen who acquire and use political power for their own ends — like the Reddy brothers who nearly toppled the Karnataka chief minister. Russia points to some of the dangers.

Boris Yeltsin launched a widespread privatisation programme in the mid-1990s, a variety of “oligarchs” captured companies at throwaway prices, often used physical violence to intimidate, and developed political ambitions, before there was the inevitable backlash. Boris Berezovsky bought an oil company and a TV station and funded political parties, but eventually had to seek asylum in Britain. Mikhail Khodorkovsky was another oil billionaire who developed political ambitions, only to lose his company and his freedom. Russia itself has swung back to authoritarianism.

The situation in India is not comparable, you would say and you might be right. But Indian tycoons like the Reddy brothers now risk being tagged as robber barons — a tag that links business success to political dealings, or to anti-competitive and/or unfair business practices. It is worth finding out, for instance, which mining interests were behind the installation of Mr Koda as hapless Jharkhand’s chief minister, and who arranged for the Congress party’s support.

You could argue that all countries go through such phases — the United States saw it in the late 19th century, just as Russia did a century later — and that this is a stage through which India too is passing before market regulation, political oversight and the institutions of governance improve and become more effective. That positive outcome is possible, of course, but has to be worked for and will not happen automatically. Indian democracy has withstood the test of poverty. It now has to demonstrate that it can withstand the test of growing prosperity.

Nadeem Paracha at his best

A tale of two calls

POSTED BY NADEEM F. PARACHA ON 04 29TH, 2010

A month before Benazir Bhutto decided to return from exile in 1986 to challenge the Ziaul Haq dictatorship, I was an 18-year-old student at a local college in Karachi. Studying economics and commerce, I had also joined the Pakistan Peoples Party’s student-wing, the Peoples Students Federation (PSF).

A group of PSF activists from my college were planning to travel by train to Lahore, where Benazir’s first public rally after her return was to be held. I journeyed to Lahore with this group and stayed at a rundown apartment of a friend’s cousin in a congested area of Lahore where our group gathered to plan its bit in making Benazir’s rally a success.

Right behind the apartment building was a mosque with a really shrill loudspeaker. I was in Lahore for about three weeks, and every Friday, the mullah of the mosque would deliver a thunderous sermon in which he urged believing mothers to send their believing sons to indulge in jihad against the unbelieving Soviets and their equally unbelieving ‘puppet government’ in Kabul.

Most of us would be sleeping at the time of the sermon, thanks to the long nights we used to spend discussing politics. But some parts of the sermon almost always yanked everyone up, before we (unsuccessfully) tried going back to sleep.

One such Friday, Nasir, a college colleague of mine, got up grumbling and abusing like a cranky old man, suddenly announcing he was going to the mosque. Most of us in the apartment were surprised by this dramatic declaration because this young man was considered to be the most surkha (Urdu slang for communist) of us urban wayward Cold War ‘Marxists’. He asked a colleague and me to accompany him.

“What for?” I protested. “Tuj pey kab sey Islam nazil hogayah?” (Since when did Islam descend on you?)

“Abay iss mullay sey milna hai (I just have to meet this mullah),” he said, washing his face in the tiny bathroom.

The other colleague he had asked to go with him kept his eyes shut and pretended he was fast asleep. So I softly kicked his backside: “Oye, kafir, uth!” (Wake up, infidel!)

Mindful of the many sympathisers and activists of the Islami Jamiat Taleba (IJT) – the student-wing of the Jamaat-i-Islami – who lived in that area, and also due to the two plainclothes policemen who were always shadowing us (on a bike), our group carried two pistols. Nasir strapped one of the pistols (with a tape) around his right shin, underneath his jeans.

“Yeh kya kar raha hai?” (What are you doing?), I asked, concerned. “Abay wahaan soh jamati hoga, marwanah hai kya?” (There will be dozens of Jamatis there; do you want to get us killed?)

“Just come,” he said.

So I did. When we reached the mosque, the mullah was done with his loud ‘let’s go for jihad in Afghanistan’ sermon and was in the process of leading the Friday prayers. We waited, even though I still had no idea what Nasir had in mind. I thought he wanted to confront some IJT guy here.

Once the prayers were over, we moved in. Nasir went straight for the mullah. Speaking in Urdu, he asked the mullah why it was important for us to go to Afghanistan and wage jihad.

The mullah gave him a smug smile.

Nasir continued: “The thing is, maulvi sahib, these sermons have really inspired me to go to Afghanistan and fight alongside our Muslim brothers against the infidels and communists!”

“Jazzakallah!” The mullah replied, a sturdy and stern man, maybe in his early thirties, and (as we later learned) a passionate sympathiser of one of the many puritanical Islamic groups that had begun to sprout during the Zia dictatorship. “I have sent many brave young Muslims like you to Afghanistan. May Allah be with you,” said the mullah.

“Jazzakallah!” said Nasir, echoing the mullah. “So be it! My friend here and I shall leave tomorrow for the Afghan border.” The mullah’s smug smile rapidly turned into a mouthy droop, when Nasir added: “ … and you are coming with us!”

Looking at the mullah’s expression, I got into the act as well: “That’s true, maulvi sahib. We have heeded the call of Islam, jihad, you, and our great Muslim general. Accompany us as our mentor and leader.”

The mullah’s smug smile had by now turned into a nervous grin: “Sons, my health is weak, and I have a job here at the mosque. You go, I will join you later.”

“Maulvi sahib,” Nasir replied, “your body is like steel. Your strength is equal to the strength of both of us. Your booming sermons and voice have such power; they will instill fear in the hearts of the infidel. All those young boys you have sent to Afghanistan would be so inspired and thankful when they see you fighting alongside them. So it is decided then. We leave tomorrow morning after fajar prayers. We’ll pick you up.”

The mullah just tamely shook his head and hastily bid farewell.

The next day, just before the morning prayers, we went to a nearby PPP office and managed to borrow a jeep from the office in-charge whose brother was attending college in Karachi with us. We then drove towards the mosque. After much convincing and another emotional spiel from Nasir, we finally got the maulvi to accompany us.

“Now what?” I whispered to Nasir. “Afghanistan?”

“Just see,” he whispered back, smiling.

We got into the jeep and started driving towards Islamabad. As Nasir and I sang praises of jihad, Ziaul Haq, and (especially) martyrdom, the mullah remained conspicuously quiet. However, after about 20 minutes, he broke his numb silence and asked us to stop.

“Kyoon, kya hua maulvi sahib?” (Why, what’s the matter?), Nasir asked.

“Woh, son, I need to go to the bathroom,” said the mullah.

“We are jihadis, maulvi sahib,” I said. “We can face death and torture with a smile, so what is facing going to the bathroom to us. We can hold it far longer than an infidel, can’t we?”

“Bilkul, bilkul!” Nasir added.

“Son, I have a kidney condition, that’s why I am asking you to stop,” said the mullah. “I’ll just take a minute.”

So we stopped the jeep near a few bushes of weeds. The mullah got off and disappeared behind the weeds. Nasir followed him. “Abay, yeh kya kar raha hai?” (Hey, what are you doing?), I asked, laughing.

“Come, come,” said Nasir, hurrying after the mullah. “There’s a road behind these bushes.”

And lo and behold. There sure was a road there, and on it was our passionate jihad chanter sprinting away, chasing first a rickshaw, and then a bus. In a matter of minutes he had scrammed a good hundred yards away from us. We exploded into mad laughter.

Nasir took out the pistol and before firing two shots in the air, he shouted, “Maulvi sahib. Par jihad ka kya hoga?” (But what about the jihad?)

Then looking at me he smiled: “Alas, we won’t be hearing his sermons for while.

Nadeem F. Paracha is a cultural critic and senior columnist for Dawn Newspaper and Dawn.com.

Kerala College Racket

Following is a highly edited version of my letter to the Sakaal Times. It is frustrating when your original idea is edited and given a totally different meaning.  Following piece actually gives out an impression of me being a Hindu extremist. It was published in Sakaal Times a couple of days back.

Following is the original excerpt.

The recent news of jihadist running an organized racket in Kerala colleges to lure innocent girls in the name of love and then convert them to Islam for subsequent use in anti-national activities needs attention. Similar investigation was undertaken by the Maharashtra government a couple of months back.  This pathetic thinking is not derived from the Quran and was definitely not preached by prophet Mohammed (PBUH). This ideology is a product of low lives that call themselves saviors of Islam and are out there to cause harm. If such anti-Hindu activities are undertaken by Muslims how can and why should Hindus trust them? Muslims complain about discrimination and atrocities against them, to a certain extent there are but please forgive us for not being a perfect society and also kindly point towards a perfect society. Which Muslim nation gives similar rights & protects its minorities like India does? Muslims have considerable rights in India compared to Hindu’s in Muslim lands. There is one definite outcome of this and that is more religious tension in our nation which unfortunately has a weak record of religious harmony.

Pritash Chaudry