In Kanpur I once heard a joke: Three men – an American, a Japanese and a Pakistani – entered a dodgy bar to have drink and a chat while peeping at the beautiful women who passed their time at the counter. The men sat down at a table and were soon engrossed in a lively conversation. Suddenly the American got up and stood to attention, straight as a soldier. ‘Why did you do that?’ the others wanted to know. ‘Well’, he replied, ‘I just saw a woman passing by wearing a red, white and blue miniskirt, the same colours as the American flag.’ The men resumed their conversation. Half an hour later, the Japanese stood up in salute. He had just seen a woman in a tight white dress with red polka dots, which had reminded him of the Japanese flag. When he sat down again, the conversation continued. In the midst of their third round of drinks, the Pakistani suddenly got up from his chair, bent down on his knees and began to do namaaz (worship). Now, what had he seen? At this point the joke teller leant closer and lowered his voice, as if to underline the political sensitivity of the punch line he was about to deliver. Seconds later the men around us roared in laughter. Once the mirth subsided, the joke teller warned me against ever recounting this joke in public, and certainly not within earshot of Muslims.