Last Sunday Last Sunday, I woke up by the continuous ringing of the doorbell. I cursed the person at the door as I scuttled to find my T-shirt. I was within my rights to curse the person at the door anyways: after all that was Sunday morning, the only morning when I can catch up with my dreams. As I opened the door, I could barely keep my eyes open. I was expecting Rai ji, the caretaker of the building I live in, at the door since he has this nagging habit of pressing on the doorbell continuously but instead found out two Muslim youths there. How do I know of their identity? Simple: They were wearing their traditional headgear and the area I live in is dominated by the Muslim community. It is not hard to make that connection anyways. They had come to collect a donation for the orphanage they run. I asked them to wait and brought them some money. While preparing a receipt for the donation, they enquired about my name. When I told them so, I registered some surprise in their eyes be...