THE SINDHU CONNECTION: How Iran Shaped the Words India and Hind

 

India under Modi has been silent about the US–Israel attack to date. Ironically, the very name India, along with Hind, Hindu, and Hindi, carries a linguistic link to ancient Persia (today’s Iran).

The Sanskrit word Sindhu (Indus River) became Hindu/Hind in Persian because Persians pronounced the “s” as “h.” The Greeks later turned it into Indos, which eventually became India.

Historically, there was also no single religion called “Hinduism.” The term Hindu was originally a geographical label for people living beyond the Indus. Many traditions were better described as Sanatana Dharma – the eternal way.

In other words, even the modern name “Hinduism” is linguistically linked to Persia.

Peace, anas

Note : The link Sindhu → Hind → India is a small reminder of a much deeper Persia–India civilizational connection spanning trade, culture, and ideas for over two millennia.

WHY KILLING THE AYATOLLAH WOULD BE A STRATEGIC BLUNDER

 

Firstly, if leaders like Trump and Netanyahu believed that removing the Ayatollah would cause the collapse of Iranian leadership, it would reflect a serious misunderstanding of Iran’s political structure.

The Ayatollah is not a dictator. Iran is a theocratic republic with layered institutions, constitutional mechanisms, clerical oversight and military command structures. Like any political system, there would be a period of uncertainty during a transition. But the system itself would not collapse overnight. Its political culture, institutional continuity and chain of command would take over. We have already seen how quickly state responses can be activated and counter offensive took place within hours of his death.

For decades, Western narratives have often portrayed the Ayatollah as a singular authoritarian figure. When a narrative is repeated long enough, it can begin shaping policy assumptions. Decisions then risk being made based on caricature rather than structural reality.

But even that is not the deeper issue.

The deeper miscalculation lies in failing to understand the religious and historical dimensions of Shia identity.

The Ayatollah, as Supreme Leader within Iran’s Shia framework, holds a position that many followers view as more than political. His role carries spiritual weight. In Shia theology, leadership is not merely administrative. It is connected to the legacy of the Imams and to a long history shaped by martyrdom and moral resistance. To help a non-Shia reader understand, his position is sometimes likened to the Caliphate in Muslim history and spiritually to the Pope in Catholicism.

Shia history is profoundly shaped by the assassination of Ali ibn Abi Talib, regarded as the first Imam, and even more decisively by the tragedy of Karbala, where Husayn ibn Ali stood against what he viewed as unjust rule and was killed.

Within Shia spirituality, suffering is not seen as meaningless but can carry redemptive meaning; standing for justice, even at personal cost, is regarded as a sacred obligation; and martyrdom is viewed as the highest form of faithfulness to God and truth.

If such a leader is killed, he is not merely removed from office. He is elevated within a spiritual narrative that has defined Shia consciousness for centuries.

There are roughly 200 to 300 million Shia Muslims globally. A killing framed as martyrdom does not weaken such a tradition. It can deepen solidarity and emotional resolve. It may also resonate beyond sectarian lines, particularly among Sunni Muslims who view defiance against global superpowers or Israel through a political lens of resistance.

Furthermore, stories of a leader refusing personal safety and choosing to remain alongside his people strengthen that martyr narrative. Whether fully verified or not, such accounts spread rapidly in today’s digital ecosystem and become powerful symbols. Symbolism often outlives strategy.

Already, many Muslims across different denominations are sharing the Qur’anic verse:

“And do not say about those who are killed in the way of Allah, ‘They are dead.’ Rather, they are alive, but you perceive it not.”
Qur’an 2:154

In such a framework, death is not defeat. It becomes transcendence.

The Ayatollah, in that narrative, does not disappear. He becomes morally amplified. And that amplification can carry consequences long after immediate military calculations fade from view.

Strategic actions taken without deep historical and theological understanding risk producing effects far beyond their intended goals.

Peace,
Anas

 

 

HICKORY – A Place to Read, Write, Think, Reflect

 

A month ago, during my birthday week, I spent almost a week at Hickory, Penang Hill. It has been my norm for decades to travel somewhere during my birthday. My gift to myself has always been time. Time to read. Time to write. Time to think. Time to reflect.

When I was married for a while, my ex-wife once asked what birthday present I wanted. I told her, “A whole day to read.” That day, I read The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg from cover to cover. That was my celebration.

This year’s gift was solitude at Hickory.

Each day followed a simple rhythm. Wake up. Breakfast. Write. Lunch. Write again. Workout. Dinner. Write again. Day in and day out. I did not leave Hickory.

Hickory itself is a gift. A serene environment with cool weather at about 700 metres above sea level. The staff are friendly. The owner is calm and clearly not doing this merely for money. There is a genuine love in the way the space is curated. It is clean. Organised. Thoughtfully detailed. The rooms are beautifully done. The entire bungalow feels like a heritage art piece, quietly standing in time.

They were flexible with food from the menu, accommodating my preference to avoid pastries, chips and wedges in exchange for more vegetables. Coffee and tea are complimentary throughout the day.

The sunrise is mesmerising. Every morning feels fresh and purposeful. And at night, the cool air refreshes the soul. From 700 metres up, Penang truly lives up to its name as the crown jewel, its lights glowing gently across the night sky.

I highly recommend Hickory to anyone looking for a place to think and reflect. If you are seeking reflective energy in silence, this is it.

God willing, I will be back again right after Hari Raya.

Thank you, Raj, Durin and the entire team at Hickory.

Peace, anas

 

MANDELA, GANDHI AND MODI

 

It is no surprise that Madiba and Gandhiji became close confidantes in heaven. They both stood for doing what is right even when it was hard, treating every human being with dignity, and believing that justice must apply to everyone, even those you disagree with.

So they made it a point to meet for tea every now and then. They would sit quietly under a wide tree, cups in hand, and look down at the earth below. From there, they could see cities glowing at night, borders drawn and redrawn, leaders speaking, crowds marching.

Like two old friends who had once carried the weight of nations on their shoulders, they would talk about the world they had left behind.

Today was Gandhiji’s turn to host.

He prepared the tea the way it is done on the streets of India where he once walked. Strong. Boiled with milk. Touched with ginger. Poured back and forth to cool before serving. The steam rose gently into the still air of heaven.

Madiba arrived with his familiar warm smile.

“You look serious today, my friend,” he said, taking the cup.

Gandhiji nodded. He stirred his tea slowly, paused for a while, then stirred it again.

“Yes, Madiba,” he replied softly. “Something is troubling my heart.”

Madiba waited, giving Gandhiji the space to speak when he was ready.

“It is about Modi… and where he is leading India,” he continued.

“He speaks of Jews finding refuge in India centuries ago. Of no history of antisemitism in Indian civilisation. Of cultural respect between Hindus and Jews.” He paused and took a sip of the tea. It was still too hot.

“That part is true,” he continued. “India gave refuge. We did not persecute Jews. That is something I am proud of.”

Gandhiji looked at Madiba’s face, searching for any reaction. Mandiba, knowing it was not yet his time to speak, simply said, “Go on.”

“Offering refuge to a persecuted people is noble. Supporting policies that displace another people is different,” Gandhiji said, his voice firmer now. Madiba could feel the pain behind his words.

Madiba then asked gently, “Have you spoken with Maulana Azad and Jawaharlal about this?”

“No. Not yet,” Gandhiji replied. “I thought I would speak to you first. I am sure Maulana would be very unhappy.”

Madiba pressed his palms together and said, “Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment.”

“Modi frames it as strategic partnership. Defense cooperation. Technology. Counter-terrorism. Especially after October 7.”

He took a sip of tea before continuing.

“The world changed after October 7. Security language now dominates.”

He looked at Gandhiji carefully.

“When you spoke of Palestine, there was no state of Israel yet. It was before the Nakbah. But Israel exists now. That is reality. The question is how to secure justice within that reality.”

Gandhiji looked down, sad but steady.

“I know that after me, Jawaharlal supported a two-state solution. Yet the tone today is no longer what it was under him. Modi now speaks much more openly in support of Israel.”

He paused.

“You know, Madiba, if I were still alive, I would never agree to taking land away from the Palestinians. I was clear then, and I am just as sure now. A homeland cannot be imposed through power. Empire cannot manufacture moral legitimacy.”

Madiba gave a gentle smile.

“You were always harder on governments than I was.”

Gandhiji laughed softly.

“I condemned violence in my time. I would condemn the killing of civilians today, whoever commits it. But justice cannot be selective.”

“I would drink to that,” Madiba said, lifting his cup. They gently touched their cups together and sipped. Then they sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts.

Madiba finally broke the silence.

“Do you think India has betrayed you?”

There was a long pause. Gandhiji took his time.

“No nation is permanently pure,” he said slowly. “But when the oppressed look for a moral voice and do not clearly hear it from India… that troubles me.”

Madiba waited.

Gandhiji’s final words were calm, but heavy.

“I am not proud of the India I died for with its current behaviour.”

Peace, anas

 

KE ARAH PENGUASAAN KERJA-HIDUP

SINAR HARIAN ms 14 hari ini.

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Salam, anas

 

A WAR THAT NOBODY SANE BUT ISRAEL WANT

 

Since the United States appears reluctant to attack Iran, and Iran has shown no intention of striking first, the real risk is that Israel could escalate matters - potentially even through a false flag operation, something not unprecedented in their history.

The US then is pulled into a war that neither Americans nor Iranians want.

Peace

HOKKIEN NEW YEAR – WHY WE SHOULD ALLOW FIREWORKS AFTER MIDNIGHT

 

I originate from Penang and grew up among the Hokkiens. I even have a Hokkien name, Ah Hooi. So I know a little about the Hokkiens and what they consider important.

Many may be surprised that to Hokkiens, Hokkien New Year, Pai Ti Kong or Bai Tian Gong, is equally or perhaps even more important than the first day of Chinese New Year.

Let me explain.

In Fettes Park where I grew up, I would see my Hokkien friends and their families set up large offering tables covered with red cloth outside their homes on the 8th night of Chinese New Year, just before midnight. On the tables were pineapples, Ang Ku Kueh, roast pork and other offerings. There were always stalks of sugarcane nearby.

There was a distinct sense of anticipation in the air. Like we Muslims waiting for the announcement of the moon sighting to begin fasting or to celebrate Hari Raya. Like Christians gathering just before midnight to welcome the birth of Jesus during Midnight Mass. The moment midnight arrives, the celebration begins. Bells ring. Hymns are sung.

Just like Muslims and Christians, this is observed with care and piety. I remember how patiently and meticulously they waited for midnight. The elders, especially, carried a deep seriousness and reverent focus. Then, on the dot, fireworks would light up the sky.

To understand why, we must understand the history.

Bai Tian Gong means “Praying to the Heavenly God.” It falls on the ninth day of Chinese New Year and honours the Jade Emperor in Taoist belief.

According to tradition, during a period of persecution in ancient China, the Hokkiens narrowly escaped harm. They believed they were protected by the Heavenly God, and that their safety became clear on the ninth day of the Lunar New Year. Since then, the day has been observed as a solemn thanksgiving for divine protection and survival.

That is why midnight matters. It marks the exact beginning of that sacred day.

So when fireworks fill the sky after midnight, it is not merely celebration. It is remembrance. It is gratitude. It is faith expressed publicly. It is religion in action. We may limit it to only from midnight to 1 am, but allow it we must.

Muslims and Christians do not have to agree with the belief. But we must practise empathy.

If we understand this history and place ourselves in their shoes, we may see those few moments after midnight differently.

Peace,
Anas