Aligarh Muslim University, among Indian Muslims today?

On almost every rooftop in Khambachapada, vegetables compete with the dish antenna for space. Climbers engulf it, gourds confront its sleek cables and dried cucumbers close in, threatening to disrupt transmission.
To a city-bred yuppie, this pre-dominance of Nature over technology may seem refreshing , even poetic. But from the point of view of the dog that's yawning outside a hut right now, this village in Goregaon's Aarey Milk Colony is, in all probability, a boring habitat.After all, in this Warli hamlet where electricity is intermittent, butterflies find flowers easily, kids still play cricket outside and all that's visible into the farthest distance is leaves, smoky hills and, if one dares to climb the steep slope nearby, the breathtakingly still Vihar lake. A star hotel, where many villagers work as staff, is perhaps the only man-made break in this scenic landscape.
Also, not very far from Khambachapada, is Aarey's famous "picnic spot' ' where, for an entry fee of Rs 5, couples ensure weekly privacy, low-budget films seek natural song locations and schools acquaint kids with the elusive phenomenon called Nature. But 40-year-old Rama Arjun Hadal, who is busy axing the ground outside the hut he shares with his mother, wife, three kids and "four or five' ' roosters, does not feel the need to visit any such spot. "Ours is right here," he smiles, referring to the free-of-charge , dreamy canvas of trees, fog and domestic animals that surrounds his hut perpetually . Though this tribal, who has been working in the supply department of the BEST for over 13 years now, is not blessed with 24-hour power supply, there's enough air, light and distraction outside to keep him and his gang of giggly kids entertained.
Khambachapada, after all, is the kind of place the forest department frequents for its promise of rare sights like tigers, leopards and, as Hadal's niece, Vaishali, remembers , "a two-headed black snake" . The tiger that the kids spotted here once was huge; the leopards the reason people like Hadal don't keep dogs any more; and the snakes tread freely in the village's version of the nursery. Yet, there is no apparent fear of wildlife in the eyes of these kids, only a healthy curiosity . "These kids even climb trees in no time," muses Varun Kapoor of the NGO YUVA, who comes here every Sunday to teach them maths and English.
In return, the kids are now taking him on a tour of their engaging, leafy neighbourhood , surprisingly pleasant even in the unforgiving October heat. They show him the pond, in which a bathing snake causes ripples of excitement ; then the orchard, where every house grows vegetables. Here, they collectively chase a yellow-black butterfly and greet the resident spider with cries of "Spiderman" . On the exhausting climb up the steep 20-minute slope to the sole school they even saw a dancing peacock once, they tell you excitedly.
While the ruminating cows in Khambachapada are yet to get used to the sensory assault of cars and bikes, hints of technology like the newly erected solar lights and the dish antenna are slowly making their presence felt in the pristine village. Yet, just like the dog that's guarding the common loo here, there seems to be a fierce sense of ownership among the residents of the natural territory. A fact reinforced unintentionally by a remarkable sketch of Stone Age cartoon character Fred Flintstone on a wall and quite directly by another wall which screams in bold, "Hi zameen aamchi, naahi kunachachya bapachi." The vegetables, of course, say so non-verbally .