This superiority of the Hindu identity derives its content as much from the exclusionary portrayal of ‘Semitic intolerance’, insidiously pointing at the Muslim, and then thus Islam as a whole. In doing so, the significance of Islam in the modern nation state narrative of India is judged only on how much it scores against the test of Narayanan’s notion of a Hinduistic-derived diversity. This test is, unsubtly, about assessing the perceived inferiority of other cultures, by keeping a lauded Hindu culture, praised for its innate tolerance, benevolence and “Indian-ness”, as the benchmark. With no regard to the difference in myths, theology and grammar of the two cultures, a judgment of inferiority is passed in the ordering of the societies. As such, the co-existence of difference through multiple narratives, multiple truths, is lost to the rules of diversity dictated by a single homogenous idea of Hindutva. In comparing this ideology against other historical instances of segregation (Narayanan’s reference to annihilation of minorities), it is made to seem less brutal by covering it with the notion of a fundamental Hindu accommodation and tolerance. However, the underlying subtext in both the cases resonates a single message. By slipping into the fear of a hybrid culture in the context of Muslims, Narayanan implies that ‘We don’t want to colonize you like the British or kill you like the Germans killed the Jews, in such a way that we don’t want to rule you but rule over you because you are culturally inferior’. Such an implication is far more problematic than an overt act of ethnic cleansing because he speaks out the unsaid desire of many in India to rule over Muslims as historic revenge, or, to some eyes, justice.