I will highlight two or three comments from previous posts that shed light on an important aspect often missing from Indian discourse.

One comment by Kabir from about 25 days ago stated:

“Muslims tend to be more intransigent vis-à-vis conversion of a spouse.” Sharia is very clear on this point. A Muslim man may marry a Christian or Jewish woman without her converting. A Muslim woman, however, cannot marry a non‑Muslim man; there are no exceptions for women. Of course, Kareena Kapoor married Saif Ali Khan without converting to Islam, but that was not a nikaah. Under Islamic law, they are not considered married—though I doubt either of them is concerned about that.

Another important comment by Kabir was:

“Hinduism, by definition, is actually very offensive to Islam. Idol worship is probably one of the worst sins a Muslim can commit. Obviously, Hindus are entitled to believe what they want—I have no issue with that. But a fundamental reason why Muslims find Hinduism distasteful is because it is not monotheistic.”

I did not find either of these comments offensive (some Hindus may have done so). On the contrary, they reflect a candid and honest analysis on Kabir’s part and are quite instructive. Such observations are largely absent from Indian liberal discourse because Indian liberals—secular, Hindu, and Muslim alike—tend to shy away from confronting the uncomfortable mismatch between Hindu and Islamic worldviews. This is fundamentally a clash of outlooks. The inability to address it honestly creates more problems today than necessary.

Looking at Pew data on attitudes toward inter‑religious marriage, Hindus and Muslims appear to be similarly conservative, with a very high proportion in both communities opposing interfaith marriages. However, in the outlier 1–2% of cases where such marriages do occur, Muslims often insist on conversion, whereas Hindus—who may oppose such marriages nearly as vehemently—generally do not insist on conversion.

This asymmetry echoes a point XTM makes in his post on Hinduphobia. Despite over a thousand years of interaction between Hindus and Muslims on the subcontinent, cases of genuine synthesis—though often celebrated—remain outliers.

Another example of asymmetry: while it is true that there is considerable distrust of Muslims among Hindus today (one may call this bigotry or something else), outright disrespect for Islamic traditions or for the Islamic Prophet is very rare among Hindus. Even staunch Hindutvavadis (though this may have shifted somewhat in recent years) have traditionally maintained that their issues are with Indian Muslims, not with Islam or the Prophet.

As a result, when controversies such as the cartoons issue or The Satanic Verses arise, many Hindus—even those who harbor some prejudice toward Muslims—tend to support the Muslim position on blasphemy. Owing to their worldview, Hindus generally regard holy prophets with a largely positive outlook (and this is even more pronounced in the case of Jesus).

The converse, however, is less common. It is quite frequent to encounter ordinary Muslims—who may or may not be personally bigoted—being openly disrespectful toward Hindu deities. This is not surprising when viewed in light of core Islamic attitudes toward idol worship.

The Amazon Prime series Paatal Lok once depicted a Hindu police officer refraining from offering prasad to his Muslim colleague, while the Muslim colleague extended a helping hand. In my own corporate experience, I have often seen the reverse: a Hindu offering prasad from their ancestral deity—sometimes following a pilgrimage they had dreamt of for decades—European and American Christian colleagues making extra efforts during such exchanges due to cultural conditioning, and Muslim colleagues politely refusing the prasad. Such interactions can fuel long‑lasting resentments.

There may be other sources of friction as well, possibly from the other side. For instance, Muslims and Christians might feel uncomfortable walking through streets filled with Hindu deities during festivals—or perhaps most do not.

However, if these issues are to be addressed in public discourse, there must be an honest acknowledgment of this asymmetry. This is not merely a clash of civilizations, but a clash of outlooks. As some commentators have noted, even American Christians are now encountering Hindu deities more visibly with the growth of Hinduism in the United States.

I do not claim to know if and how—these issues should be resolved. But one thing is clear to me: if this space helps surface these uncomfortable truths honestly, it is doing something worthwhile.

Reams of digital pages on this forum have been devoted to India–Pakistan relations and the broader Hindu–Muslim, or Muslim–non-Muslim, conflict. I think most of these discussions miss the crucial issue at the heart of these conflicts.

I will try to navigate to that core. This particular reflection was triggered by a news item that broke recently:

TCS Nashik conversion case widens: Undercover women cops, Malaysia-linked preacher angles surface – India Today

If, twelve years into the Modi government’s Hindutva agenda, a dozen educated Muslim employees can allegedly engineer a conversion racket in TCS—with all its POSH and diversity guidelines—one wonders what Muslim radicals might get away with in majority-Muslim countries.

One doesn’t need to wonder. A Dawn report from 2014 alleged that around 1,000 non-Muslim girls are forcibly converted and married off every year. Even if the number is 100, that is a huge number for 2-3% of population. The demographic change in East Bengal over the last eight decades is a testament to these currents.

The grooming gang scandal in the UK was hushed up for decades, though one might almost expect such things in a “soft,” “liberal” country like the UK. But even in so-called “saffron India,” where Muslims are supposedly under danger (as Indian left-wing media would have you believe), one finds dozens of such scandals across states. I will link just one such report:

Family of Man Killed by Girlfriend’s Family Says Killers Told Him to Accept Islam or Call Off Relationship | Swati Goel Sharma

Today, I am not in the mood to conduct a statistical analysis to separate noise from signal. However, when I did this exercise about four years ago, I came across four times as many such stories as those related to beef lynchings. Maybe some other day. These instances may well be noise—but if this is noise, then the anti-Muslim violence one hears so much about is an even lighter noise.

Has the history of past victories against idolators imbibed so much confidence in the supposedly downtrodden? I would not be surprised if this is spun as revenge against “systemic Brahmanical corporate discrimination.”

Sadly, the behavior of a significant fringe (and what exactly constitutes a fringe?) isn’t the only problem. Sexual crime is widespread in India across communities, but what is alarming is that one hardly sees any prominent Muslim voices being guilt-tripped into public shame. Just imagine the outcry—in global media as well as among Hindus themselves—if ten Hindu leaders were caught force-feeding Muslim juniors pork.

For liberal Hindus, distancing themselves from their co-religionists isn’t enough; they often go further, masochistically making mountains out of molehills. For liberal Muslims, the initial instinct is to worry about how such incidents will be used to demonize Muslims. This self-preservation instinct was also prevalent in the Valley during the ethnic cleansing of Kashmiri Hindus.

Take another example: our resident BP author Kabir. Many of his posts focus on rising Hindutva and abuse in India, but I don’t recall him posting about the systemic abuse of Hindu and Christian girls in Pakistan. I am not alleging that he (or others) condone these actions, but the silence itself is systemic.

While I have often argued that this conflict is only nominally historical, I am now wondering whether I was wrong about that.

A famous politician from Hyderabad once said, “Hum in Hinduón pe raaj karte the” (“We used to rule over these Hindus”), to a large, cheering audience. The Pakistan project was largely driven by a “we were rulers” mindset—but it didn’t stop there.

Why did Pakistan start four wars (or perhaps three, if we ignore 1971) with India despite the size differential? The Pakistani establishment believed it could overcome India’s numerical advantage. Does the history of Islamic victories against idolators continue to imbibe confidence among believers in the 21st century? When Jinnah called for Direct Action Day in a Hindu-majority population, was he thinking along these lines? Did the conspirators in the TCS case draw courage from historical victories such as those of Alauddin Khilji?

This may appear far-fetched to my rational mind—but perhaps those without a rational mind see it differently.

I had avoided the Dhurandhar hype for the last four months. I finally watched the first movie on Netflix and then read XTM’s review and watched the 2nd part in theatre. I profoundly disagreed with it—especially the line:

“By routing this grief through an anti-Pakistan narrative, the film asks Hamza to deny his Sikhness in order to become fully Indian, and frames that erasure as redemption.”

I’m not writing a formal review of the movie, but I will try to respond to a few generic questions raised on this forum and across social media regarding Dhurandhar.

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Is the villain missing?

I agree with XTM that a central villain is missing in Part 1, but perhaps we should see Dhurandhar as a 7‑hour film split into two parts, rather than a standalone first installment.

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Part 1 vs Part 2

Personally, I felt Part 1 was more tightly written and better dramatized. While some reviewers saw the love story as a needless distraction, I viewed it as a way to explore Hamza’s humanity despite his profession.

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Is Dhurandhar Anti‑Islam?

On the contrary, I felt the filmmakers went out of their way to separate the issue of anti‑India terrorism from Islam—despite the fact that some terror groups do draw on fundamentalist interpretations of religion.
The villains are not portrayed as devout Muslims; they are not shown praying before missions. Rehman Dakait’s wife lighting his cigarette as a good‑luck gesture is a good example.

One could even argue that Dhurandhar focuses almost entirely on political motivations within Pakistan, while ignoring any potential religious motivations behind the Indo‑Pak conflict. I don’t know exactly how the ISI thinks, but I would wager that at least some religious motivations do exist—it cannot be purely political.

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Is Dhurandhar Anti‑Pakistan?

Obviously, it is—but I disagree with XTM’s assertion that it dehumanizes Pakistani Muslims.
I didn’t enjoy the montage of political killings by “unknown gunmen”; it felt shallow. But it wasn’t the sort of random, gleeful violence we saw with Gaitonde in Sacred Games during the 1993 riots.

The film definitely leans dark, but I would still call it shades of grey, especially because of Hamza’s conversations with his wife.

I also believe that Major Iqbal’s character is humanized. He carries the burden of his father’s sins, and the mental torture he undergoes—while still maintaining a link to his wife and child—would break almost anyone. We can see why Major Iqbal becomes who he is. Ironically, this humanization also makes him a less effective villain than Rehman Dakait, as many reviewers have noted.

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Is Dhurandhar pro‑Modi propaganda?

I may be wrong, but I felt the film used real politics—like demonetization—to weave its plot. Using real events increases impact, and I think that’s what the filmmakers were aiming for.

Does this mean it has no propaganda effect? Of course not. But compared to the list of A‑list Bollywood movies I’ve seen over the years, this is nothing unusual. We will probably see Hollywood films justifying the Iran war in a decade or so—that has always been the pattern.

If you pay attention, the film also touches upon how previous governments—Indira Gandhi’s as well as Manmohan Singh’s—played roles in shaping certain outcomes. It is not a “Modi or bust” narrative.
However, it would be blind to deny that the film does portray the Modi government’s actions toward Pakistan and terrorism in a positive light.

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Jaskirat’s Arc

While I found certain aspects of the film underwhelming, I thoroughly enjoyed Jaskirat’s arc. Here, I completely disagree with XTM. The movie does not celebrate Jaskirat’s transformation into a killer—it shows the cost he pays at every step. It also explicitly shows how he is used by the establishment.

Jaskirat doesn’t become an intelligence operative because Pakistan “earned his hatred.” He becomes one because it was the best choice available to him. The film wants viewers to see the price soldiers pay for their “jobs.”

Also i absolutely do not understand why XTM thinks Jaskirat’s Sikhness is erased in the movie. Rather Jaskirat choses to travel back to Pathankot as a tired  Sikh in full Pagdi not macho silky muscly Hamza. I think going beyond this straightforward narrative into the alleged drugs, land dispute, Khalistan angle while thinking erasure of Sikhness or History is something i absolutely do not get.

 

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On Hatred Being ‘Installed’

XTM claims:

“The hatred is not earned. It is installed.”

I disagree. You do see Hamza’s transformation through Lyari’s horrific violence, the betrayal of the Baloch by Rehman, and 26/11. You can see a monster being born in Lyari, but even then he retains his humanity—which becomes evident again when he reacts to killing his friend.

The movie does not end with a “happily ever after” for either Hamza or Jaskirat. It wants you to examine that, not ignore it.

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My Take

I enjoyed both movies. Like XTM and many others, I agree that Part 2 has more flaws while Part 1 is far more seamless. Still, Jaskirat Singh Rangi’s arc in Part 2 is the highlight of the entire seven hours.

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On India–Pakistan

Contrary to what social media suggests, India as a whole has moved on from Pakistan. You can see this from the declining obsession with India–Pakistan cricket matches compared to the 1990s and 2000s.

Yet, a significant number of Indians derive a kind of sadistic pleasure from Pakistan’s struggles. You see this reflected in reactions to news, such as Pakistan mediating in the Iran crisis—where both the Hindu right wing and the opposition twist the narrative for political ends.

If you once hated your neighbour in the slum you grew up in, would you still mock his poverty after moving into a middle‑class apartment? Or should you aspire to grow on your own terms?

This attitude towards Pakistan is self‑defeating. I honestly pity it.
My message to fellow Indians: Grow up and move on. Look East.

What if Pakistan successfully mediates in the Iran crisis? What if Pakistan continues to punch above its weight diplomatically?

If their mediation helps solve an energy crisis—unlikely, but possible—shouldn’t I, as an energy‑deficient Indian, be happy? If Pakistan’s rise ever poses a genuine risk to India, I will worry about it then. Until that point, I prefer to leave it to the agencies and the government. If Pakistan becomes richer and doesn’t support terrorism against India why would that be a bad thing ? I am not being naive but i think there is a marginal chance of Ind- Bangladesh level relations with Pakistan in 20 years if not 10. Inshallah

Politics is deeply ideological—but does ideology really matter in geopolitics at all?

A few modern (if that’s a fair word) Islamic countries—Turkey, Azerbaijan, and Pakistan—have adopted an increasingly anti‑India position. For Pakistan, this stance is ideological; for Turkey and Azerbaijan, it is clearly pragmatic. Meanwhile, India has become friendlier with the Taliban, Iran (the current war notwithstanding), and the Gulf states.

Similarly, India’s closeness to Israel is not ideological—though cheerleaders on social media often present it that way. It is strategic and does not depend on Jews being tolerant of Hinduism. I have zero insight into how Israelis view Hinduism (nor do I, as a resident of India who never intends to visit Israel, particularly care). But that should not matter, because Israel is one of the very few all‑weather geopolitical partners India has.

India needs weapons and technology, and it gets them from Israel—so Israel is important to India. India needs oil and gets it from Iran and Russia—so they are important to India.

These statements may sound childish or crude, but they capture how geopolitics actually works. It does not run on ideology or cultural history. Much of the cultural narrative that intellectuals and pop‑culture try to weave around geopolitics is post‑hoc justification meant for an idealistic public. Even dictatorships engage in such storytelling—not just democracies. There are exceptions, of course. For instance, when the Nupur Sharma controversy broke, it triggered a small geopolitical crisis for India.

Nation‑states are both products of culture and creators of culture. Cultural and political anxieties were the prime movers of the Pakistan movement. But the lived realities of Pakistan, India, and even Bangladesh as nation‑states have produced their own cultural trajectories and divergences.

So should an Indian cheer for the bombing of a friendly totalitarian theocracy at the hands of its friend which is a selective liberal democracy {only for the chosen people) ?

No—not only because Iran is a friend of India, but because emerging economies that are democracies need at least the façade of a rules‑based international order to function. Donald Trump doesn’t seem to like the façade but diplomacy of varying shades still ought to be relevant in politics for years to come.