Visiting London at a time when race riots are rife, and the newspapers are still referring darkly to pitch invasions by supporters of the Pakistani cricket team, it was natural to expect a certain amount of tension in racially mixed areas.

So it was a pleasant surprise to go to Southall, the ultimate example of a South Asian-dominated suburb. I was there last twenty years ago when friends took us for a desi dinner. With its loud filmi music, its almost exclusively subcontinental faces and accents, and its spicy aromas, I understood why my son Shakir, then five years old, asked if we were back in Lahore. Since then, I have not been tempted to return for the reason so many Indians and Pakistanis go there: authentic desi food. On my short visits to London, I prefer to check out the latest Italian and French restaurants.

But as it's the mango season and the only mangoes I have found in Kensington are inferior African and Mexican varieties, I thought we would get the genuine articles from Southall. So off we went on a warm Sunday mid-morning, following signs until we reached a bazaar scene straight out of the subcontinent. The vibrant colours, the loud music and the unique, mouth-watering smells of curries cooking were light years away from the bland, strait-laced British streets one normally walks through. In terms of atmosphere, I might easily have been in Karachi's Saddar area, or Lahore's old city.

However, the contrasts with the subcontinent soon became apparent: the streets, despite the crowds and the cacophony, were very clean; there were no beggars; and, above all, there were at least as many women as there were men, and nobody ogled them or made obnoxious remarks. There was very little swagger or male macho on display. People shopped, ate at the many restaurants and generally went about their business without pushing, shoving or being unpleasant in any way.

Another major difference was the presence of so many communities in a relatively small area. There were Sikhs, Hindus and Muslims shopping peacefully side by side; there were even a few token white and black Brits. Nobody was hassling anybody as we made our way up the main street. The shops carried signs with names indicative of all the faiths practised in South Asia, and impartially drew customers from every region.

To complete this picture of ethnic diversity, there was even a (Halal) Chinese menu at the Punjab Karahi Centre we entered for lunch. I thought we had been very clever by bringing a couple of cans of beer with us, but when I asked the waiter if we could open them, he whispered he would move us to a corner table if we were under a 'compulsion to have a drink. I assured him there was no such 'compulsion', and got on with the business of ordering lunch. The nihari, the saag-gosht and the kebabs were all absolutely authentic, as was the lassi.

Outside the Punjab Karahi Centre stood a splendid Karachi bus decked out in bright colours and mythical beasts and shiny metal bits. passers-by gaped at it, and has themselves photographed standing next to this fine example of Pakistani folk art. The manager informed me that it had been driven to Turkey and shipped from there; it was used to transport baraats at weddings and was often hired for birthday parties. We next bought a couple of kilos each of excellent chausa and sindhri mangoes for 10 pounds - hardly extravagant when considering their quality and transport costs. Finally, we bought some superb gulab jamans and gajar ka halwa from the Ambala Sweet House.

On our way home, we talked about how a microcosm of the best of the subcontinent had been so successfully created thousands of miles away. For centuries, serious travellers and casual tourists have remarked on the marvellous cultural mosaic that invasions, conquests and migrations have created in South Asia. The ethnic mix there is probably richer and more varied than in any comparable land mass, and apart from occasional religious and language riots triggered by chauvinistic individuals and parties, the different elements of the subcontinental mosaic have lived in relative peace and harmony.

This balance was disturbed by the system of separate electorates for Hindus and Muslims introduced by the British nearly a century ago, and this policy found its logical conclusion in the partition of 1947. Since then, the forces of intolerance and chauvinism have gained ground in both India and Pakistan. They are far stronger in Pakistan as the latter was created in the name of religion, and despite the early secularizing influence of Mr Jinnah, its founding father, it has gone down the path of fundamentalism and enforced homogenization.

We have thus robbed ourselves of the happy medley of cultures and influences that enriched and informed our lives until not very long ago. By trying to impose a rigidly uniform vision of Islam and an alien Middle Eastern culture on a basically multi- religious, multi-ethnic South Asian society, we have destroyed many of the threads that made up the fabric of a once-rich, vibrant and creative culture. More and more, we define ourselves by our "un-Indianess", and in doing so, we hack away at our cultural roots.

And yet as my brief visit to Southall showed me, there is no fundamental problem in South Asians of different faiths living, working and praying next to each other. Whether our political and religious leaders like it or not, the commonalties between the various communities of South Asia far outnumber the differences. Unfortunately, over five decades of politically generated hostility and poisonous propaganda have taken their toll of tolerance and understanding on both sides of the border. Two generations of brainwashed Indians and Pakistanis have grown up to blindly mistrust and even hate each other. Nevertheless, these same young men and women become fast friends away from the corrosive passions of the subcontinent.

Clearly, fifty-odd years of history cannot be forgotten or wished away. But if these wasted years are to serve any purpose, we need to draw lessons from them if we are not to be condemned to making the same mistakes. The most important lesson is that it takes more than an artificially drawn line across the map to obliterate our rich cultural heritage.

The history of the subcontinent is one of religious conversions, inter-faith marriages and inter-cultural mingling on a vast scale. To pretend that any part of this region is religiously or culturally 'pure' is to delude oneself. Finally, if South Asia is to play its rightful role on the world stage, its leaders have to remember there is great strength in diversity.

General Musharraf and Mr Vajpayee would do well to keep the Southall model before them when they sit down to talk next week.