Ditty in (prose) to a chutiya

Salman Rushdie writes the kind of fiction that I get emotionally involved with. Wo baap hai, and other indic authors concurr, while accusing him of having become rather chutiya of late. Nonetheless, Whatsoever, bethatasitmay, I've read 2 of his babies, and I am emotionally involved with them - Satanic Verses and Midnight's Children.
The Verses brought home to me (in characteristic irreverent Rushdie) that there are people who are Muslim, devout, educated, learned, rational, disillusioned, confused - i.e., not a flattened layer of submissive and idealogical Muslim person - if you do Namaaz 5 times a day, you're weird and scary, I used to think.. You can either be like my college buddies who happened to be Mulsim but ate pork and drank whiskey and were just as 'normal' as I (just as I ate all kinds of beef and never prayed) - either the religion handed down to you by your family didn't matter to you, and you put logic, rationality and debate above faith. Or you were a weirdo. I should have known better, you think, I didn't need a book to point out to me how complex it really is, that most people don't see religious and rational as mutually exclusive. Nope. Somehow, I often need things to be pointed out to me, obvious things.
The Children, which I understood even less than the Verses, helped me find logical arguments to support my instinctive dislike of things like puritanism. Also historical contingencies. It also tasted very good to me, in self imposed exile from India, it being an account of another's on again off again, always in the background relationship with a motherland, whatever that may be. But this is too vague...
Agh, I love the way Rushdie writes! Rhythmic, saucy, allegorical, fatalistic, melodramatic, sinful, wrong - most of all, I relish his recognition and assertion that Indian writing and Indian stories cannot be free of the mystic, the traditional, the illogical and the maniacal, which seemingly have no place in the modern and the progressive. In reading him I finally understood that my search for the Colonial cannot be conducted in the Imperial Motherland. It has to be done in the place of mixed meanings that India provides, still. The soil in which the ideas and essence of the Coloniser and colonised threshed together to give rise to a Third, a Third meaning. And the meanings change and become more complex with every instant of time that we move away from our momentous Independence Hour.