As of now, the link between the (Sikh?) terrorists and the reprehensible bomb blasts that resulted in at least one death and serious injuries to scores of spectators has not been established. The question, however, relates to inflammatory protests that preceded the eventual tragedy and inevitable closure of the theatres screening Jo Bole So Nihaal. Despite not being a devout Sikh, I still use "Sat Sri Akal" as a natural form of greeting whenever I meet fellow Sikhs. I am suddenly reminded that it forms part of a traditional war cry. Who am I fighting each time I greet someone from my 'own community', I wonder. How do I negotiate my creative self within the larger cultural history that expects me to approach Baba Farid with the same deference and intimacy as it does Kabir and Namdev? The Holy Book, the Guru Granth, appears to me to be about the new, compassionate, tolerant human kind. It recreates culturally a syncretic and vibrant space. It allows me to stand within that space and to articulate myself, freely and without fear. But suddenly I am scared. There are too many exegetes out there interpreting the texts with messianic authority. As a singer, I shall sing the holy text at home. I shall remain unheard. Outside, I shall sing "What do I know who I am, O Bulla". Or, was that Mevlana Rumi? Only that. There are too many rats crawling in the dark holding plastic in their claws, furtively moving under your seats.