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320 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2005
He is the author of Nobody Does the Right Thing; A Foreigner Carrying in the Crook of His Arm a Tiny Bomb; Husband of a Fanatic: A Personal Journey through India, Pakistan, Love, and Hate, a New York Times “Editors’ Choice” selection; Bombay—London—New York, a New Statesman (UK) “Book of the Year” selection; and Passport Photos. He is the editor of several books, including Away: The Indian Writer as an Expatriate, The Humour and the Pity: Essays on V. S. Naipaul, and World Bank Literature. He is also an editor of the online journal Politics and Culture and the screenwriter and narrator of the prize-winning documentary film Pure Chutney.
Kumar’s writing has appeared in The Nation, Harper’s, Vanity Fair, The American Prospect, The Chronicle of Higher Education, The Hindu, and other publications in North America and India.
Pg. 39 - There was also a report from Calcutta. It mentioned that Mahatma Gandhi, while addressing the crowd gathered for a prayer meeting with him, had said that Hindus should not object to the cry Allah-u-Akbar which was raised by the Muslims. Gandhi "held that it was probably a cry greater than which the world had not produced. It was a soul-stirring religious cry which meant that God only was great. There was nobility in the meaning. Did it become objectionable because it was in Arabic? Hindus should have no hesitation in uttering the cry together with their Muslim friends." ... I found this bewildering ... But I also understood that Gandhi was trying to remove that fear by reading the meaning of the cry literally and reminding everyone of that basic truth. More than that, in that utterly radical appeal to Hindus that they too should participate in saying Alla-u-Akbar, he was underlining the respect one has to have for other religions distinct from one's own. He was laying claim to the belief that he himself, and also everyone else, was bound to God and not to religion, and hence, as he had once famously declared about himself, we were all, each one of us who were Indian, simultaneously Hindu, Muslim, Christian, and Sikh.
Pg. 154 - I realized that the Hizb militant from the other side of the border had no such memories of a shared life. He had known only sameness. He has not experienced the force, or the grace, of religious difference as a vital part of his society. What the Kahsmiri poet was lamenting that day was the killing of a syncretic culture ...