My name is Salman Rashid

In February 1989, shortly after the fatwa, I was in Gwadar. Sitting in the town square (oh, how the town has changed in these years!), I was minding my own business over a cup of tea when a stranger came and sat opposite. We started talking and I learned that he was Iranian. He asked me what I did for a living and I said I was a writer and then he asked me my name. The next thing I knew was the stunned reaction of the man. Very slowly, in real slow motion, the man started to rise from his chair. Then he point a finger at me and said, 'You are the man!

It was only now I realised what was about to happen. I quickly grabbed his outstretched hand and forced him back into the chair. And then I talked like I have never talked in my life. I told him I was Rashid, Rashid, Rashid and not Rushdie. I whipped out my ID card for him to read and told him I lived in Lahore. The man quieted down, looked hard at me and said I would quite look like Rushdie if I trimmed my beard a little. I had a thick, black beard in those days which was shaved off after returning home.