All men are created equal. Yet no two are exactly the same. That is diversity. The population of the world is around six thousand million; there are as many types of people.

I speak of different ‘types’ of people by their choices and opinions. Who they would vote for, why they find meaning in life, what they hold worth dying for. There are as many different combinations of answers to these as there are people, and that is the DNA of diversity. The realisation that while we are all uniformly equal in our rights, we are staggeringly different in our choices.

Diversity does not depend on it being formally recognised. India is often held up as the epitome of a diverse country, with its twenty-three official languages and multitude of religions. But there are countries that are also similarly diverse, only they seem embarrassed by it.

China stifles its minorities like Uyghur Muslims and Tibetan Buddhists. Turkey has practically outlawed the Kurdish language. France is unique in its uniformity of enforcing hush-hush. It is trying to pretend that no religion exists in France; by banning the Muslim hijab, the Jewish skullcap, the Christian cross and the Sikh turban, all in one swipe. Of course, none of these actions can actually make diversity vanish; only take it away from the public view.

One must not expect any of these to become a fully homogeneous nation overnight because the law wants people to be coloured in the same grey monotone rather than the rich palette they truly are.

India can claim to have a more common-sense policy. Why fight such an obvious, even essential feature of humanity? Celebrate it! If there is a correct way of handling diversity, it is this – cherish it as an asset rather than rue it as a liability.

My own life has been witness to diversity in every direction. The two clichés of being born into prosperity or into adversity would be well complemented by this – one can be born into diversity. I certainly was.

I grew up in a country that belongs to everyone. The Taj Mahal, India’s quintessential poster child, was built by a Muslim emperor. Then again, the Ashok Chakra, our national emblem, was first used by emperor Ashok, a Buddhist ruler. India is a land that lives up to (and by) the phrase ‘e pluribus pluribum’.

I was born in Calcutta. Unabashedly Bengali, it was home to some very distinguished international figures, amongst them Satyajit Ray and Mother Teresa. I lived in Bombay, and here I was first acquainted with the vast cultural confusion of my motherland. In school I had friends from all over India, speaking about eleven different mother tongues in a class of forty students. I realise we could easily be a continent in our own right.

I spent my teenage in Dubai. Islamic and liberal, Dubai sends every ‘clash of civilisations’ scaremonger packing home. Here, I grew in the company of an international group of friends. My social circle extended from the Philippines to Kenya, opening my mind to a world’s worth of understanding at that stage in life when prejudices are best made, or unmade.

I am now in Canada. It is here that I most strongly feel the touch of humanity in all its forms and tunes. In all, my friends must reflect at least half the world’s cultures.

To me, diversity is the most defining characteristic of humanity. How dull humanity would be if we all had consensus on every issue! It is to the credit of mankind that we have been able to nurture our different ways of looking at the world for centuries, and thus have a pool of options from which to choose our next step.

My entire life, and I aver everyone else’s as well, has been one long experience of diversity, and this diversity has affected me deeply. Positively.

Diversity is precious to us as a planet and to each of us individually. With the ability to understand diversity comes the ability to think in different ways to solve a problem. It brings with it the ability to stand in everyone’s shoes and wear everyone’s tinted glasses. I find myself capable of doing this, and thus I find myself being the perfect arbiter. I start with no pre-defined notions.

I cannot help but defend anyone who is being prejudiced against, and often I have found myself defending two different sides of a debate on two different occasions. It is not that I am fickle-minded. I appreciate debate as long as it is logical. But as soon as it slips into common name-calling, I must defend. I am prejudiced against prejudice. I dare say I am the perfect moderator. Often an impromptu moderator, defending each party from irrational parries, and thus defending diversity of opinion.