Islam and the West may be in the throes of a so-called clash of civilisations, but Shamsi's life is an eloquent example of how they can - and do - happily co-exist.

Striking a fine balance

Neelesh Misra
Moradabad

The off-white curtain cuts right through his living room. Male guests on one side, women on the other. Ijlal Shamsi has a similar partition in his life: Islam on one side. Western values on the other.

In the trading town of Moradabad, the 24-year-old Shamsi runs a generations-old metal handicrafts business. His brother has memorised the Quran and is an Islamic scholar at 15 and the women strictly follow the purdah. Shamsi prays five times a day. He proudly shows off a pocket-size digital Quran that can read the holy book in eight languages. And at a madrasa run by the family, female students hear their male teachers over the speaker - as they cannot face them.

And yet, he chose the United States for his higher education during what turned out to be a difficult time for Muslims - the aftermath of the September 11 terrorist attacks -- and still cherishes it.

"I lived in America at a time that wasn't the best and most pleasant for Muslims all over the world and I had my share of problems," Shamsi said in an interview at his home. "But I would still say that I am a better Muslim, a better person, a better individual and a better human being because of the fact that I lived in America."

Islam and the West may be in the throes of a so-called clash of civilisations, but Shamsi's life is an eloquent example of how they can - and do - happily co-exist.

"My parents gave me the best of both worlds in education," he said, gently punching the keys of his laptop to show a presentation on the family-run madrasa.

Shamsi spent his early years in Moradabad, the affluent city of narrow lanes where cycle rickshaws now jostle with gleaming new cars. In 1991, when an aggressive Hindu nationalist campaign was gaining ground across north India, he was sent away from the city to Dehra Dun, to Welham Boys', one of India's leading schools.

He enjoyed life as a boarder at the school. But there were some tough moments as well. It was June 8, 1999, when India and Pakistan were playing a razor-edge cricket World Cup match. Shamsi and his classmates were watching it at school.

India won. "I celebrated when India defeated Pakistan. But some of my classmates said: "Oye Pakistani, why are you happy, Pakistan has lost!" he said.

Eight years later, it was another World Cup, and another story. "I was driving to my factory - the day after Bangladesh defeated India," Shamsi said. "As I passed through one Muslim neighbourhood, people were milling on the streets, they gestured to me to stop. I rolled down the window.

"`Take sweets, India has lost!' they shouted. I was very disturbed. People were thrilled. When Pakistan wins, they distribute sweets," he said.

Shamsi spent 10 years at school, and in 2001, went to St. Louis in the mid-western state of Missouri in the United States, where he specialised in Economics and Business Administration.

There is one day he particularly remembers, the day his parents were on a flight from Frankfurt to Dallas, headed to meet their son.

It was the morning of September 11. Two jetliners had just crashed into the World Trade Centre, carrying out the most spectacular terrorist attack in history.

Muslims in the United States, and in many other countries across the world, suddenly had to start living with a curtain of suspicion thrown around them. But Shamsi says America taught him many crucial lessons of life and made him a better Muslim.

"It is where I saw various view points, cultures and even many different races. It allowed me to be more tolerant and accepting of so many other people and beliefs. It allowed me to better understand myself and what I stand for and what others believe and stand for," he said.

He returned recently to join the family business for several generations - the export of metal handicrafts and home deco products - and continued with the same values.

"Overall, I would like to say that I am from a strict religious family with deep values. But at the same time we even possess a very modern thinking. We are definitely broad minded and accepting of many things," Shamsi said.

A private tutor comes to his home every morning to help him study the Quran. Shamsi's younger brother Arbab, 15, has already become a Hafiz-e-Quran, a Quranic scholar who has memorised the Islamic holy book. But Arbab recently also wrote the Class X examination held by the Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE), and is now headed for the United Kingdom for further studies.

Both brothers have loaded the Quran onto their mobile phones. And when their parents went to the Haj pilgrimage, they brought back pocket size digital Qurans - which look like hand-held video games and can recite the holy book in eight languages.

"This is what I want every Muslim to be - they should speak fluent English, and yet know their rituals - a Muslim woman should be able to read the Quran, and also teach her son how to check his e-mail," he said.

From the small town of Moradabad, Shamsi looks out at the world, where anti-Muslim sentiment is sweeping across nations, even as anger against the "rest" also sweeps through the Islamic brotherhood - erupting frequently in Iraq, in furious protests against the Danish cartoons of Prophet Mohammed, and in street campaigns against America and Israel.

"I feel that this is just being blown out of proportion and the powerful people are creating a negative image of the Muslims to protect their interest and thus defame Islam," Shamsi said.

Still, no hard feelings, he says. "I have realized that all people are actually nice deep down.