Seeing them, people began to clap spontaneously, applauding their assertion that Islam was a religion of peace, and not terrorism.

Since then, people in Mumbai, which has witnessed some of the worst communal riots in the country in the past, have come together in their grief, crossing barriers erected by politicians in the name of religion.

Some have accused the media of not highlighting enough, the fact that the militants asked their hostages what religion and then killed non-Muslims.

Others have speculated that the few thousands of Jews left in India would leave the country because six Jews were killed in the attack on Chabad House.

But in Mumbai today, just days after the explosive report on the Babri Masjid demolition was made public, there is a sense of community and togetherness. A big difference from 1992, when riots between Hindus and Muslims that followed the demolition killed hundreds.

And so today, multi-faith prayer services are being held everywhere in the city and there are countless stories of inter-faith friendships that blossomed in the days after the attacks.

And so the nine bodies of Islamist militants killed last November still lie in a hospital morgue because Muslim clerics in the city have refused to bury them.

And so Muslim bakers in Byculla in Mumbai still bake the traditional bread for the Jewish Sabbath.
And so Muslims celebrating Eid on Nov. 28 will gather in the compound of the Jewish synagogue in Byculla for their prayers.

And so at the Chabad House memorial service, Muslim neighbours will be present.
Because when lives have been taken, religion should not matter.

Ahead of the first anniversary of the Mumbai attacks, India's financial hub is on heightened alert.

Metal detectors and scanners "beep" in office blocks and malls, snipers and sniffer dogs keep guard at hotels, and barricades are in place around high-profile locations. And various talking heads have made power point presentations to show the city is now safer.

In the past year, several measures have been put in place to tighten security in Mumbai, including a hub for elite commandos, and new weapons, armoured vehicles and speedboats for the police.

But how safe is the city that has been a target of bomb attacks before and remains a magnet for militants bent on hurting India's status as an economic powerhouse?

Home Minister Palaniappan Chidambaram has said India remains just as vulnerable to another attack, but that our capacity to deal with them has improved.

But some security experts say little has changed, and the fact that there have been no major attacks in the last year has little to do with India's improved ability, and more to do with the greater pressure on Pakistan. That it is only a matter of time before the Lashkar-e-Taiba launches another attack in India. That the revamping of the police force that is needed to secure the city has not been done.

Even in Mumbai, at the main train station where militants gunned down the most number of victims last year, door-frame metal detectors stand unmanned and bags go unchecked. And the coastline, which was easily breached by the gunmen, remains largely unprotected.

Expecting a complete overhaul of the security apparatus within a year is perhaps a tall order, but simply barricading private firms will not help if the city remains vulnerable.

In the days after last November's attacks, thousands of Mumbai residents, stunned by the 60-hour siege of their city, took to the streets with candles, placards and slogans, demanding better governance and greater accountability.

Yet, Mumbai's voter turnout in the national election and the recent state election was among the lowest in years.

Perhaps 26/11, as the attacks have come to be called, will also quickly become nothing more than a footnote in Mumbai's violent history, with lasting images but little impact.

(Photo: Procession with Ganesha statue in Mumbai, 15 Aug, 2009/Punit Paranjpe)

Few events can rival the ancient rituals and riotous color of India's religious festivals. This year, the months-long celebration season is also becoming eco-friendly.  Alarmed by the high levels of pollution caused by firecrackers, toxic paints and idols made of non-recyclable material, schools, environmentalists and some states are encouraging "greener" celebrations.

In Mumbai, where the 10-day festival for the elephant-headed Ganesha (the Hindu deity of prosperity) is underway with giant, colored idols and noisy street parties, radio and TV stations are airing environmental messages and school children are learning to make eco-friendly idols.

The statues, made of brightly painted plaster of Paris, are usually immersed in the sea or a lake after a lively procession that can sometimes take half a day to navigate the choked streets, and which ultimately leaves dismembered idols strewn along the shore.

But a growing number of Indians are opting for smaller clay idols which they immerse in water at home.

"An idol that doesn't dissolve in the sea is just a tragic end for something you have worshipped for so many days," said Abhijit Karandikar, a creative director at an advertising agency. "More people are realizing they can be more eco-friendly in our festivals. It's something that's in our control."

Read the whole story here.

(Photo: Devotees touch the feet of Ganesha statie in Hyderabad, 23 Aug 2009/Krishnendu Halder)

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The media did not say if there were students on campus with a 'bindi' (dot) on their foreheads or crucifixes around their necks or turbans on their heads, other symbols of religion one commonly sees in India, besides the ubiquitous "Om" scarves and t-shirts.

Mangalore, a cosmopolitan city, is no stranger to controversy; it was recently in the news for attacks on bars and women by a fundamentalist Hindu outfit that declared they were against Indian culture.

Nor is the controversy over headscarves and burqas limited to India. UK's Jack Straw sparked a heated debate when he asked Muslim women in his constituency to remove their veils to promote better relations between people.

Turkey last year lifted a ban on women wearing headscarves at universities, ruling it violated the country's secular constitution.

More recently, French president Sarkozy said burqas have no place in the country because they are a symbol of the subjugation of women. The issue has divided France, home to Europe's largest Muslim minority, over how to reconcile secular values with religious freedom.

A 2004 French law bans students from wearing "conspicuous" signs of their religion in state schools, prompting Sikhs to launch a protest to allow them to keep their turbans on.

Sikhs have also fought in some countries for the right to carry the "kirpan", a dagger mandated by their religion and have called on the U.S. Army to end a ban on men with turbans.

How about India, a secular country which allows its citizens the right to follow any religion of their choosing? Can a college or a workplace impose its own rules about religious symbols? And who gets to determine what's conspicuous or not?

Dramatic headlines and graphic visuals in the media; reporters looking alarmed behind their masks; commuters with handkerchiefs and scarves around their mouths; and long lines of people outside screening centres, imagining the worst.

Even as the health minister and state officials appealed for calm and warned against hoarding masks and flu drug Tamiflu, the red splashes of breaking news and the tone verging on hysteria were unabated.

The World Health Organisation estimates the H1N1 swine flu could affect 2 billion people globally, and experts consider the pandemic to be moderate.

That hasn’t stopped the breathless media coverage, selling of masks and sanitisers at several times the usual price and panicky schools shutting down.

In fact, new U.S. guidelines discourage early closure of schools because the benefits of closing schools are outweighed by social costs such as unsupervised children and missed education.

Some newspapers did play down the hysteria: The Hindustan Times daily said many deaths could be attributed to late diagnosis and other complications, and reminded readers that 16 people died of malaria in Mumbai in the last two days alone. During the monsoon, gastroenteritis is a bigger threat than swine flu.

So how about some perspective and some calm?

[Join the Great Debate on whether India is ready to tackle swine flu ; for slideshow click here]

Sports Minister MS Gill, when questioned about it in India's upper house, said the practice was "a normal courtesy extended to distinguished guests".

There was no clarity on what made a guest distinguished or whether this was a courtesy that only women were called on to extend.

The boxing federation, which has enough on its plate already, then sent out a press release, papers said, saying: "Haven't we all grown up seeing our mothers, sisters and ladies of the house looking after the guests, right from our childhood. Are they doing demeaning jobs?"

Clearly not in Gill's mind.

Isn't it bad enough that every sport besides cricket gets the short end of the stick in India? Do we need to further humiliate our sportspersons -- our sportswomen -- in this fashion?

Would you imagine the uproar if budding bowlers at the Chennai academy were made to wash the cars of distinguished guests as a normal courtesy?

Harbhajan Singh and Murali Kartik were apparently disciplined some time back because they complained about the quality of the food at the cricket academy.

The contrast could not be more stark: while our superstar cricketers throw tantrums over food and their considerable weight over rules, our other sportspersons have no voice, and our sportswomen, in particular, who fight against conventional notions of what a woman must be, are reminded they haven't come very far at all.

Most unsporting, isn't it?

For once, they raised their voices in unison against the provision that while judges are required to declare their assets before a designated authority, they are protected from public scrutiny and questioning.

A hotly contested section of the Bill says: "no judge shall be subjected to any inquiry or query in relation to the contents of the declaration by any person".

Congress party's own leaders have objected, saying the proposed law could violate the Right to Information Act that has empowered people and helped expose corruption.

It has invited scorn from lawyers, too: well-known lawyer Ram Jethmalani has described it as "a conspiracy in corruption" that would make people suspicious of the judiciary and places the latter "on a higher pedestal than any other public servant in the country".

Law Minister Veerappa Moily has said the government was working on more comprehensive judicial reforms and that this was only a first step.

But until then, should our revered judges deserve special treatment? Why should they be above the law that governs other people in power and, indeed, the rest of the country?

Anil charged Reliance Industries, India's top private-sector conglomerate run by estranged brother Mukesh, had used every trick in the book, and some outside the book, to feed its "greed", and was firing from the shoulder of the oil ministry that he claimed was being "partisan".

The 90-minute diatribe livened up what threatened to be an otherwise staid shareholders' meeting, with accusations, pleas, emotions, tears and the inevitable invocations of the father, founder Dhirubhai Ambani, whose death helped bring the feud between the two brothers out in the open. All peppered with energetic cries of support from shareholders.

The dispute next comes up for hearing at the Supreme Court on Sept. 1.

Leaving aside the legal issues, was it right for Anil to have used a shareholders' meeting to wash the family's dirty linens and take potshots at the government? Certainly, there are implications for the company's earnings and therefore shareholder value. But does that make it OK to discuss a matter that is sub-judice?

The two brothers have fought before in the full glare of the media spotlight, and are quite likely to do so again. Anil has already given interviews to all major newspapers stating his stand, signalling that the gloves are off in this stage of the Ambani battle.

Is this the start of a new season for shareholders' meetings? We've often bemoaned the lack of shareholder activism in India, but clearly a big family business like the Ambani's thinks nothing of using a shareholder meeting to air grievances against a sibling.

Or is this just another example of India's new-found affinity for voicing one's thoughts in public? The parliament has debated whether this phenomenon - as seen in the TV show Sach ka Saamna - is against our culture, but is Anil's outburst a sign that in corporate India at least, talking about your feelings, in front of shareholders and on TV, is acceptable?

How about families of four riding precariously on the choked streets of Mumbai or Delhi?

Piaggio, the Italian vehicle maker that has made the Vespa since just after World War II, has made a big success of its three-wheeler auto rickshaws and commercial vehicles in India, and intends to relaunch the iconic brand here soon.

Why now, when vehicle sales are sluggish, at best? Why now, when the two-wheeler market has moved pretty much decisively to motorbikes? Why now, when a certain low-cost car is close to actually rolling into homes of a lucky 100,000?

But not so long ago, which middle-class Indian family didn't aspire for -- and wait months for -- a Bajaj Chetak?

Now, despite gravity-defying motorbikes endorsed by the likes of Hrithik Roshan and Mahendra Singh Dhoni, scooter sales are slowly but surely ticking up.

Sure, many of these are the gentle, gearless variety so popular with the ladies. And yes, they cannot hope to match the numbers of their more macho cousins.

But scooters are also enjoying a bit of a comeback in the west, particularly among college goers, celebs and eco-warriors, because of high fuel prices and the downturn, and a nostalgia that has revived such icons as Volkswagen's Beetle or Fiat's Cinquecento.

In India too, scooter sales are ticking up as Honda, Bajaj and TVS explore new, stylish and more fuel-efficient options.

Vespa -- Italian for wasp, and named some say because of the high-pitched noise of its two-stroke engine or because of its shape -- is no stranger to the Indian market: it was made by Piaggio and then LML in past years.

Now, Piaggio's wholly owned subsidiary will undertake the task of wooing the Indian masses with the Italian classic.

All we need perhaps, is a scene, a la Roman Holiday or La Dolce Vita, in one of our Bollywood flicks, featuring the new Vespa, to kickstart a new generation of Vespa-lovers in India.

Who would be our own Hepburn and Peck?