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Six Rich People Problems from Mahesh Rao's 'Polite Society'

Keenly observed, sharply plotted and full of wit and brio, Mahesh Rao’s Polite Society reimagines Jane Austen’s Emma in contemporary Delhi to portray a society whose polished surface often reveals far more than is intended.
We humbler mortals would think that an actual house anywhere in the vicinity of the NCR and money without any visible employment, would mean a permanent state of bliss. But as it turns out, the rich have their own problems to deal with.
Read on to feel a sharp stab of sympathy for these six truly awful Rich People Problems!
The sheer futility of art fairs when by even a faintly glamorous foreign celebrity is nowhere in sight
“Excitement rippled across the front lawns as it emerged that there had finally been a sighting of Diana Ross. Determined to make up for other disappointments a group of jewelry designers from New Friends Colony elbowed their way through the main pavilion, gesturing at the tall figure being guided around some hanging steel pots. But the thrill dissipated soon enough-when it was discovered that the lady in question was in fact the wife of the Rwandan ambassador to India.”
 The sordid places the best people have to descend to, to remain the best people.
“Nina would not go so far as to call it a humiliation but it was certainly depressing. The best people were being invited to flashy restaurants that overlooked the flyover. The venue for a book launch might  be at the end of a corridor of sports shops in a shopping mall.”
Being aesthetically disappointed by your pet philanthropic projects
“Anyway, one night we were walking through the Marais and I was astonished to see a restaurant that served their cuisine. It seemed like fate so of course we went in. Such a disappointment, I can’t tell you. Everything tasted of some dreadful sour fermented liquid, and horrid bits of pork fat. I mean, it’s too awful of me, but after that meal I couldn’t help but feel far less sympathetic towards them as a people.”
The suffering experienced on private yachts
“He hated yachts, where he ran the danger of being confined for long periods of time with objectionable characters. He was also convinced that they were breeding grounds for virulent bacteria, which would only result in a boatful of passengers vomiting in the wood-paneled aisles.”
The stress induced by the precise science of invitation- dispensing
“There were questions of future utility to be balanced with the danger of current solecism. Favours sometimes had to be returned but in the correct measure and on the appropriate occasion.”
And that most indescribable of all horrors-the pain of watching a truly insufferable \  social climber  ascend to wealth and prominence
“Year after year, Nina had watched Silky inhabit her role as Mrs Chhabra, settling into its splendid nooks as though she had been born to it. She had traded in her social insecurities for a jangly new personality, in whose service bad manners masqueraded as benevolent plain speaking.”

The British in India – an Excerpt

This book explores the lives of the many different sorts of Briton who went to India: viceroys and offcials, soldiers and missionaries, planters and foresters, merchants, engineers, teachers and doctors. It evokes the three and a half centuries of their ambitions and experiences, together with the lives of their families, recording the diversity of their work and their leisure, and the complexity of their relationships with the peoples of India. It also describes the lives of many who did not fit in with the usual image of the Raj: the tramps and rascals, the men who ‘went native’, the women who scorned the role of the traditional memsahib. Below is an excerpt from the book. Read on!


Salvation for Doyle came three years later with his marriage, after which his army report rated him as ‘regular, good and temperate’. The agent of this remarkable transformation was his wife, Margaret, the daughter of John O’Brien, another Irish soldier in India, a private in the Madras Fusiliers whose regiment had been sent north to help counter the Rebellion of 1857.* O’Brien was part of the relief force that arrived too late to save the British in Kanpur (Cawnpore) although it did manage to reach the besieged city of Lucknow. Badly wounded in the shoulder during the conflict, O’Brien decided to retire on his pension to Bangalore. Although the subsequent Doyle-O’Brien marriage might have seemed a purely Irish union taking place in a tropical ambience, this was not in fact the case. As the registry records demonstrate, John’s wife, Matilda, was an Indian girl who at the age of thirteen converted to Christianity a month before her marriage. Billy Connolly’s reaction to the news that he thus had Indian forebears and probably – given that Matilda had several siblings – a large number of Indian cousins, was both charming and bemused. Although the comedian still felt he was a ‘Glaswegian, Scottish person’ – large, white and hairy – he was ‘very proud and happy to be part Indian’ as well.
As Connolly’s story suggests, much of Britain’s relationship with
India, especially at a personal and popular level, has very quickly been forgotten. One cannot help wondering why his maternal grandmother, to whom he was very close, never told him that her own grandparents had lived in India and that her mother had been born in Bangalore; if she had been ashamed to admit her Indian ancestry, she could have left that bit out. The story also indicates how much of the British-Indian relationship, again at a personal level, was accidental. Most British people did not go to India to conquer it, govern it or amass a large fortune there. When Daniel Doyle enlisted in the 3rd Battalion of the 60th Rifles, he did not know that he would be sent to India and spend half his active life there as a soldier who would never be called upon to fight a battle. Like private soldiers, many British women and children lived in India by accident, without having chosen to do so; chance or unexpected circumstances had brought them there. If we look merely at Connolly’s own profession, the theatrical, we find a good number of future actors living fortuitously on the Subcontinent: a list of those who were born in India, or went to school or spent parts of their youth there, would include Vivien Leigh, Merle Oberon, Norman Wisdom, Lindsay Anderson, Spike Milligan, Tom Stoppard, Felicity Kendal and Joanna Lumley, many of whom will appear later in this book. If we examine an even smaller profession, that of writers, we find that Thackeray, Kipling, Saki, Orwell (and Orwell’s second wife, Sonya) were all born in India.
The British in this book lived in India from shortly after the death of Queen Elizabeth I until well into the reign of Queen Elizabeth II, a span of some three hundred and fifty years. Life for them was very different – and was led very differently – in diverse ages, just as it was in Britain. For nearly three-quarters of that time British settlements – and later possessions – were administered by the East India Company (EIC); for the last ninety years of the Indian Empire (1858–1947) they were under the direct rule of the British government. All divisions by ‘period’ are artificial and prone to generalization, but perhaps one can divide Britain’s time in India roughly into thirds. The first (and largest) had its share of war and violence, especially on the west coast, but was mainly a matter of small enclaves concentrating on trade. The second, stretching from the 1740s to the 1850s, was a period of conquest and expansion during which the East India Company, one of several rival European entities, emerged to become the paramount power in India. The third (and shortest), ending in 1947, was an era of consolidation and subsequent withdrawal. Yet even these divisions would need to be divided into contrasting subdivisions. As at home, the behaviour of the British in India was very different in the Regency period from what it was in the more earnest years of the early Victorians.


The British in India makes a highly original and engaging contribution to a long an important period of British and Indian history.

Stories at Work – an Excerpt

Is there a way to influence people without pushing data and analysis on them? Is there an effective way to drive change in an organization? Yes, through stories. Stories at Work will teach you how to wrap your stories in context and deliver them in a way that grabs your audience’s attention. Read an excerpt from the book to know more!


This book is designed to take you from being a believer of the power of stories to a seasoned user of stories in business, first by introducing you to the various elements of story work and then sharing with you the process you can use to unlock this enormous potential.
However, to do that I must first shift a belief most people have about stories. Imagine that you are one among ten people sitting in a conference room waiting for a very important meeting to start and someone in the room says ‘let me tell you a story’. Pause and think about what would be the first thing that would go through your mind. Take a minute.
If you are like 95 per cent of the 1500-plus senior leaders that I have run into during my workshops, your first thought would be along the line—‘why is he wasting our time’, ‘it’s time to be serious’, ‘what an idiot’, ‘has he not prepared for this’, ‘how long will this take’ or ‘why do I have to listen to it’. Very few of you, the 5 per cent, would say ‘I want to know what he has to say’ or ‘I hope it is interesting.’ That is the barrier stories face in business.
Most of you who have been in sales, and many of you who have not, would have at some point in time in the past been told by your boss ‘Kahaani mat batao!’ (Don’t tell me a story), when you were genuinely trying to explain the real reasons behind why something didn’t happen. Most people label stories as being made up, something to be used for entertainment or something usually for children.
While this myth will surely be shattered as we journey through the book, it would be useful to introduce you to my definition of business storytelling. Story is a fact. What we will do is wrap it in context and deliver it with emotion.
You might ask, ‘Can’t stories be created or made up?’
Of course they can, but not in this book and definitely not in the world of business. ‘Can’t I borrow from mythology?’ Of course you can if you have a huge memory bank for mythological stories and know how to connect them to business. But not in this book. In this book, and in the work I do, we will stick to stories being facts. After all, the currency of business is fact.


Stories at Work will teach you how to wrap your stories in context and deliver them in a way that grabs your audience’s attention.

Take The Gender Bias Out Of Your Work Ads

What Works: Gender Equality by Design discusses how organizations can leverage findings from behavioral science research to fight gender bias in the workplace—starting with job listings. Read an excerpt from the book below.


Attracting the right people instead of managing the wrong ones is one of the most important tasks any organization confronts. This is the mantra Google lives by—or, as Laszlo Bock writes: “Only hire people who are better than you.” In an interview on the company’s hiring and corporate culture, Eric Schmidt, the executive chairman, explained that in addition to judging the technical qualifications of potential hires, a key focus at Google was to determine whether they were passionate and committed to innovation.
Surely, allowing all Google engineers to spend 20 percent of their time developing their own ideas serves as a sorting device. It attracts creative, independent minds who invent Google News, Orkut, or a social networking site. The time is not written in stone nor necessarily utilized, but it matters as an idea: “No one gets a ‘20 percent time’ packet at orientation, or is pushed into distracting themselves with a side project. Twenty percent time has always operated on a somewhat ad hoc basis, providing an outlet for the company’s brightest, most restless, and most persistent employees—for people determined to see an idea through to completion, come hell or high water.”
Not many of those “seeing an idea through to completion, come hell or high water” are women. In the spring of 2015, a gender discrimination trial brought by a former junior partner at a venture capital firm in Silicon Valley drew renewed attention to the low fraction of women in technology. While in the end a jury found against the plaintiff, the low numbers were undeniable: fewer than 20 percent in most tech companies and even fewer in Silicon Valley’s venture capital firms.
Some argue that the “tech bros” mentality of Silicon Valley keeps women out and even discourages female students from focusing on computer science. Perhaps. Surely, the male-dominated environment does not help tech firms attract women. As we know, deviating from behavior that is expected of a social category, either by others or by oneself, can be costly. A woman who acts against the norms by definition doesn’t “belong”; not surprisingly, the fear of not belonging is influential.
Indeed, research by Boris Groysberg, Ashish Nanda, and Nitin Nohria (now dean of Harvard Business School) suggests establishing belonging turns out to be a major concern of female job seekers. They report that women consider more factors than men when screening jobs; in particular, cultural fit, values, and managerial style. There is a surprising silver lining to this research, however: it carries hidden benefits for women and their employers. In follow-up work, Groysberg identifies this scrutiny as one of the key variables explaining why women transition more successfully to new companies than men. Women know better what they are getting themselves into.
The researchers analyzed the performance of more than a thousand “star” analysts working for almost eighty different in- vestment banks over a nine-year period. Analysts were labeled “stars” if they were ranked as one of the best in the industry by Institutional Investor magazine. The team was interested in better understanding whether the analysts’ skills were portable when they switched companies. It turns out most analysts lost their stardom when they changed employers unless they moved to a better firm or brought their whole team along—with the exception of female analysts. Not only had the women studied a potential new employer more carefully before joining, they had also built their expertise differently than their male colleagues.
The top-performing female analysts had “built their franchises on portable, external relationships with clients and the companies they covered, rather than on relationships within their firms.” Or as one female star analyst put it: “For a woman in any business, it’s easier to focus outward, where you can define and deliver the services required to succeed, than to navigate the internal affiliations and power structure within a male-dominant firm.”
People choose organizations based on their preferences and their beliefs about whether or not they could thrive in a given organization. Messages shape those beliefs. Consider the messages sent when Lieutenant General David Morrison stated in a video posted on the Australian army’s official YouTube channel that he was committed to inclusion. “If that does not suit you, then get out,” Morrison flatly declared. “There is no place for you amongst this band of brothers and sisters.”
Acting in response to a 2013 investigation into sexual abuse, Morrison sent a strong message. In 2014, Morrison joined the Australian delegation to the Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict in London. Speaking again with admirable bluntness, he said that armies that assign more value to men than to women and tolerate sexual violence “do nothing to distinguish the soldier from the brute.”
Will these messages attract and retain soldiers valuing equality and inclusion? Time will tell. And while actions have followed his words, we all know that talk can be cheap. When and how messages affect behavior is a large field of inquiry in itself, but experimental evidence is rare. One example, however, is encouraging.
Robert Jensen and Emily Oster took advantage of the fact that cable television became available at different times in different parts of India, allowing them to trace whether attitudes and behaviors went along with exposure to the new information cable programming provided.
They found that the introduction of cable television was associated with improvements in women’s status in rural areas, including female school enrollment, decreases in fertility, as well as reported increases in autonomy and decreases in the acceptability of beating women and son preference. The information conveyed via cable television, often through somewhat surprising means, such as soap operas, exposed rural viewers to gender attitudes and ways of life, including within the household, more prevalent in urban areas. And it changed behavior.
Sorting mechanisms are powerful and often overlooked. Those charged with attracting the largest, most talented pool of applicants should make sure they scrutinize the messages, overt and biased, conveyed in their advertisements, websites, or other communications.

No Spin – an Excerpt from Shane Warne's Autobiography

In No Spin, Shane offers a compelling insight into how a boy from Black Rock changed the face of cricket forever. An excerpt from the book below!

I said, ‘Simone’s a wonderful girl, mate – let’s get it done.’
It felt great on the surface but deep down I’d begun to feel I shouldn’t be doing this. Or maybe I should. Or shouldn’t? Perhaps it’s the way everyone feels in the days before they get married, I thought. Who knows? It was nothing to do with Simone. She looked so beautiful on the day, and in the year and a bit since we’d got engaged she’d easily become my best friend. We were good together, she understood me and me her. But I could feel my life changing at frightening speed and I just wasn’t sure it was the right time.
Shaun Graf, my Victorian mentor and team-mate, was MC in the marquee. We had 200 people and Simone did a great job, decking it out magnificently and making sure the detail was spot on. Everyone got plastered. We stayed at the Como Hotel – a fantastic place. My brother was best man, with the groomsmen being Merv Hughes and a good mate from my Academy days, Stephen Cottrell. Simone had her sister, Lisa, and best friend, Sharon, and her cousin Tanya.
A guy called Tuffy, who used to play guitar in a Hawaiian shirt at a place called City Rowers in Brisbane, did the entertainment – he was better than brilliant, playing all the great covers, many of them with Steve Waugh and Mark Taylor on stage. ‘Tugga’ loved ‘Khe Sanh’ and Tubby loved ‘Bow River’, the two Cold Chisel classics. We all had such a happy night. I remember thinking it had been the best day of my life. What was all the worry about?!
On a slightly different subject, I can hear the question, ‘Steve Waugh was at your wedding?’ Well, he was. I was close with Tugga back then. We toured Zimbabwe together in 1991 and he asked me to come and play club cricket with him at Bankstown – he even spoke to the club about getting me a job behind the bar. We hung out a lot in those days and I did consider going to play in Sydney to try to get into the New South Wales team but, as I’ve mentioned, Simon O’Donnell set me straight on that one! Tugga wasn’t in the Test side when we got to know each other well; he’d been left out for a while but came back against West Indies in 1992/93, batting at number three. Then he settled into the middle order, which suited him best.
He became a completely different person when he took over as captain. All that worship of the baggy green – some of the guys went with it, like Lang, Haydos and Gilly, but it wasn’t for me. I think he turned into a more selfish player when he had his second run in the Test team, which changed him. My philosophies on the game were more aligned with Tubby than with Steve; though, in fairness, Steve was a successful cricketer – if in a very different way to AB and Tubs, whose style and direction I much preferred. It’s no secret that Tugga and I don’t see eye to eye these days.
Simone
Simone and I have three amazing children. We spent 13 great years together, created a beautiful home in Middle Crescent, and even though we went through a few dramas, we look back now and can have a laugh.
My relationship with her is fantastic. We have brought up Brooke, Jackson and Summer together. We think differently about parenthood – I’m a lot stricter in many ways – which has been a good thing for them as they’ve seen different points of view. She understands me, I understand her and we get along fine and are friends.
There’s a perception out there that every relationship is driven by the same rules – society’s white picket fence, if you like. Mum, Dad, wife and kids, good job, solid home – and above all loyalty to your partner. But reality isn’t like that. Simone and I made our marriage work. The intimate details of how are not for the public domain. Do people really think we’d still be such good friends if it was all as bad as people make out?
As I’ve said, my life was going nuts. I think maybe we were more sister and brother – we loved going to the movies, playing pool, seeing concerts, hanging out at the pub, but perhaps we didn’t have that emotional lock-in. My respect for her remains to this day.
In the early years together we were really happy, enjoyed creating homes and sharing day-to-day life with friends and family – all the normal stuff that young couples do as they grow together. The trouble with cricket is that it invades your space, occupying everything from conversation to consistency in a relationship.


Honest, thoughtful, fearless and loved by millions, Shane is always his own man and this book is a testament to his brilliant career.

Our Long Winter by Sharmila Sen

Sharmila Sen is the author of Not Quite, Not White, which is a first-generation American’s searing appraisal of race and assimilation in the US. In this special piece by her, she talks about what defines belongingness.


One of my all-time favorite novels is The Long Winter, the sixth book in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s popular Little House series. It was published in the United States in 1940 and narrates events from almost sixty years earlier, about a particularly devastating snowstorm that took place when the author was a young teenager. I read The Long Winter and the rest of the Little House books, considered controversial by some these days, during another snowy winter– the winter of 2002-2003. At the time, I was pregnant with our second child, a son. He was born in the middle of a snowy February in 2003. In Boston, we expect our Februarys to be snowy. A couple of years later, when our third child, another son, was born, we faced another snowstorm. This one was unexpected because it was early April and blizzards are a rarity at that time of the year. Since two of my three children were born during similar meteorological conditions, I associate snowstorms with happy events.
I first discovered the joy of snowstorms when I was a young girl, about eleven or twelve, newly-arrived in Boston from Calcutta. In India, we had school holidays during exceptionally rainy days during the monsoon season when the streets of Calcutta would be flooded. In Boston, when the snow piles up so high that the roads are deemed unsafe, school is cancelled. All children eagerly await the news of school closings in the morning after a particularly heavy blizzard. In the early 1980s, as soon as the school department announced the holiday on television, the phone would immediately start ringing in our apartment. My classmates and I would call each other to make plans for spending the day exploring snowbanks, having snowball fights, and sometimes even shoveling our neighbours’ yards for a little extra pocket money.
My love of The Long Winter is not tied to my girlhood memories of snow days though. I read the entire Little House series during the winter of 2002 –2003 in anticipation of what our children would read one day. I had begun this process of exploring American children’s literature a year earlier when we adopted our first child, a daughter, from India. Our baby girl’s arrival into our life meant I was suddenly inundated with gifts of baby books from friends and colleagues. I discovered Margaret Wise Brown’s haunting prose and Richard Scarry’s incandescent illustration style at that time. Suddenly, our study, which had been converted into a nursery for our daughter, not only housed my husband’s drafting table and my collection of books by authors ranging from Maryse Condé to Geoffrey Chaucer, from Tayeb Salih to Philip Sidney, but also numerous beautiful board books. Goodnight Moon, The Big Red Barn, The Runaway Bunny, Little Fur Family, Corduroy, The Rooster Struts, The Little Engine that Could, Guess How Much I Love You. Every adventure of Curious George and the man in the yellow hat, of Madeline and her classmates, and of Babar and his royal pachyderm clan could be found in the nursery which once served as a work space for a professor of English and an architect.
My husband and I have lived in the United States since we were children. He arrived from the UK in 1977 and I from India in 1982. We are both of Indian origin. By the time we became the parents of three young children we had been shaped by American culture, for better or for worse, in the most profound of ways. Yet, we were missing one key component. We had not read American baby books and neither had our parents. Our children introduced us to this heretofore hidden aspect of the culture in which we had been living. I was not satisfied reading only the baby books and wanted a head start on the classic YA books. So, I bought the entire Little House series (as well as the Anne of Green Gables series, even though it is set in Canada) and settled down each evening, after teaching English literature to Harvard students, with Laura, Mary, Carrie, Ma, and Pa. My unborn son kicked and moved, and the snow fell silently outside my window, while I imagined surviving a deadly blizzard in the Dakota Territory in 1880.
Whether native-born or an immigrant, becoming a parent makes one understand a society in a whole new way. I read children’s books I never read before for my daughter and sons, delved deep into the American world of parenting magazines and child-rearing debates. I indulged in all sorts of retail therapy for kids’ clothes and toys. I also learned about parental leave policies and the politics of maternity that parenthood inevitably discloses to us.
When you bring a child into your world, you see that world anew. When you raise children in a country where you were not born, you learn things about the place– the hopes and fears of your neighbours and colleagues, the little hidden nooks and crannies of a society, in all its ugliness and splendour, that remains hidden to adults normally. Learning about the country of your child’s birth is an age-old ritual. The original European colonists in the Americas experienced it. As did the enslaved Africans who gave birth to first-generation Creole babies in American plantations. The indentured Indian laborer in Africa, Fiji, and the Caribbean experienced it. As did the British in India.
When my children were in pre-school, a dear friend’s younger brother passed away after a long illness. His mother– a Scottish woman who had moved to Italy to marry her husband and then followed him to Boston – said to me that she never quite accepted America as her home. But now America will always be a sort of home because her son died here. She sat on our deck, one warm summer evening in 2007, and told me this. With a shiver running down my spine, I thought, maybe that is the secret umbilical cord of belonging. We belong not where we were born but where we lost someone we loved.
Do we belong to a place where our ancestors were born? To a place where we were born? To a place where our children were born? Or to the place where they died? Ask this of mothers of soldiers killed in foreign wars, of mothers of migrants drowned in the Mediterranean.


Part memoir, part manifesto, Not Quite Not Whiteis a witty and poignant story of discovering that non-whiteness can be the very thing that makes one American. For more posts like this, follow Penguin India on Facebook!

Rebuilding Lost Trust – An Excerpt from ‘Trust’

To succeed, entrepreneurs in developing countries need to build trust within the existing structures. Those who assume that they will have the same legal, governmental, and institutional protections as their counterparts in the west, will fail. And Tarun Khanna’s new book Trust shows how it is done.
Here is an excerpt from his book, that talks about rebuilding lost trust.


In 2008, anxious parents in Gansu Province, deep in the Chinese mainland, began visiting hospitals with their ailing infants. Tests found that several domestic brands of dairy-based infant formula powders they were consuming contained melamine, an industrial chemical used in plastics and fertilizers that can cause kidney failure in small children. Ultimately six babies died and approximately 300,000 were affected during what became known as “the
Chinese milk scandal.”
Somewhere along the supply chain, intermediaries had been diluting raw milk with water and then adding melamine to fool quality tests (melamine is high in nitrogen, and most tests only look at nitrogen levels as a proxy for protein levels). In some cases, dairy farmers themselves engaged in this practice, with the tacit approval of big dairy companies like Sanlu, to squeeze out some extra profits in an industry with very low margins.
Despite government efforts to restrict negative media coverage during that summer’s Beijing Olympics, the scandal caused international outrage. Protests and lawsuits followed. The government eventually tried the chairwoman of Sanlu and sentenced her to life in prison. Two wholesalers were convicted of overseeing the dilution and contamination and then selling the contaminated products with full knowledge of the health risks—and they were actually executed in November 2009. These were unusual moves, since the government rarely cracks down so hard on bad actors in the food industry.
Indeed, this milk crisis was hardly the first instance in which food contamination threatened the health of the Chinese. There was the episode a few years back when farmers’ use of chemicals to accelerate growth resulted in a rash of watermelon explosions. Earlier in 2015, authorities found so-called “zombie beef ” in the supply chain. Certain vendors had somehow gotten access to forty-year-old beef that had been thawed and refrozen many times over and were selling it across China.
And then there was the discovery in March 2013 of more than 16,000 dead pigs floating in a tributary of the Huangpu River, a significant source of Shanghai’s drinking water. China Central Television reported that pig farmers in Zhejiang Province were selling pigs that had died of disease or natural causes to black market dealers, who then butchered them and illegally sold the pork. After a few of these malfeasants were sentenced to life in prison, the lucrative illegal trade in dead pigs plummeted, and farmers started dumping them in rivers in droves, instead of paying to discard them in pits. The images of masked and suited sanitation workers hauling the bloated carcasses out of the river with poles and nets repulsed the residents of Shanghai.
Even so, the tainted milk crisis was different. It struck a deeper chord. Why?
That crisis affected mostly young children and infants. Due to China’s long-standing one-child policy, there is an entire generation of parents who have invested all their hopes and energy into their single child. They are thus willing to go to greater lengths and expense to protect him or her: After the news broke, many parents undertook shelf-clearing expeditions to buy and bring back expensive foreign-brand infant formula from New Zealand, Singapore, and Hong Kong. Years later, this pattern continues.
This response neatly captures the net result of the scandal: Many Chinese simply don’t trust their domestic private food sector anymore. A trust vacuum exists.
This trust vacuum creates a vicious cycle, one that’s difficult to break. The problem stems from all sides in the dairy industry. For example, the price-sensitivity of consumers who are mostly not wealthy drives down prices for companies trying to win the market. This dynamic means that dairy farmers get low prices for their raw milk. If they are to make any profit at all, they have to lower their costs. For a small farmer wrapped up in the myriad daily challenges of running a dairy operation, the most expedient thing to do is to cut corners. Even if a farmer tries to take the high road—by investing in higher-quality feed for his cows, for example— and to recoup his costs by selling milk at a higher premium, it won’t pay off easily. Most consumers wouldn’t place any faith in his efforts, at least not for a while. This lack of trust persists because the level of trust in all dairy producers has become so vanishingly small.
In reality, many different players and methods can be involved with rebuilding trust. But rather than waiting for others to solve the problem, the entrepreneur can be the change agent herself. Her solution may be a tech solution. Or it might harness the community. Or both. She will almost certainly have to reimagine the role of talent, to attract it to an industry now perceived as staid and boring.


Trust by Tarun Khanna is now available. For most posts like this, follow Penguin India on Facebook!

The Anatomy of Selflessness – an Excerpt from The Mind of a Leader

“The Mind of the Leader” offers a radical, yet practical, solution. To solve the leadership crisis, organizations need to put people at the center of their strategy. They need to develop managers and executives who lead with three core mental qualities: mindfulness, selflessness, and compassion. Using real-world inspirational examples from Marriott, Accenture, McKinsey & Company, LinkedIn, and many more, “The Mind of the Leader” shows how this new kind of leadership turns conventional leadership thinking upside down. It represents a radical redefinition of what it takes to be an effective leader–and a practical, hard-nosed solution to every organization’s engagement and execution problems. Here is an excerpt from the book.


Selflessness is the wisdom of getting out of your own way, the way of your people, and the way of your organization to unleash the natural flow of energy that people bring to work. Selflessness combines strong self-confidence with a humble intention to be of service. With selflessness, trust increases because we have no secret agendas and followership strengthens because our selflessness sets free our people to be their best selves. Selflessness in leadership manifests itself as humility and service.
In Good to Great , Jim Collins showed that humility combined with strong will is a key trait of successful leaders. Humility, his research found, is when leaders are able to keep their egos in check and always put the organization’s goals before their own.  Humility is a trait of selflessness where we’re not attached to an inflated, important sense of self: we have a very real view on how little we actually matter. In the bigger scheme of things, even the best CEO is only one out of hundreds or thousands of individuals contributing to a company’s success. In addition, the company’s success is heavily determined by market trends and large- scale global forces. Any company is merely the result of an interconnected, global field of events, actions, and intentions. There’s no one person who can create this singlehandedly— not even the greatest leader. Understanding this awakens a healthy sense of humility.
Humility allows leaders to understand the value of providing service—a legacy, if you will— to the organization. That is what creates a healthy culture and what creates an organization that can continue from generation to generation. Arne Sorenson, CEO of the hotel chain Marriott, described his role as being a function of service to the company’s 400,000 employees. The driving business philosophy of Marriott is to take care of their employees, so that their employees take care of their guests. That way, business takes care of itself. Arne’s role is not one of power but one of service.
But what about the ego? What’s the role of the ego in selfless leadership? It’s small. We all have an ego that longs for attention and recognition. But great leaders are the ones who’ve tamed their ego so that it doesn’t hinder the larger interests of the people and the company they lead.
Indeed, corporate history is full of great examples of the danger of self-centeredness. Consider Nokia’s fall from industry leadership in cell phones. Nokia was the global market leader in cell phones when Apple introduced the iPhone, a much more sophisticated, yet simple and compelling product. However, the then- CEO of Nokia announced to his entire organization that the iPhone would never be anything but a niche product, and that Nokia would keep producing the phones with which they had gained their success. A few years later, Nokia had fallen into market insignificance, and Apple was the leader.
It wasn’t because Nokia engineers and developers didn’t have good ideas or recognize the shifts in consumer demands. The problem came down to leadership and, specifically, the former CEO’s emotional and ego attachment to what had made him and the company successful. He and his leadership team had fallen in love with Nokia’s past success and created a self- image of success based on that. Because they were not able to let go of this image, they lost major market share almost overnight.
Many of the leaders we’ve talked to worry that selflessness will make them pushovers. But it’s not that simple. A leader’s selflessness has to be combined with self-confidence. If you have selflessness without self-confidence, you will indeed be a pushover. Therefore, selflessness cannot stand on its own. It must be paired with self-confidence.

Incorporating Compassion – an Excerpt

Do you ever wonder how successful businesses can be used as a force for good? Do you sometimes feel conflicted by the principles of capitalism? Do you wish to change the world around you whilst doing what you love?
In his book, Compassion Inc., Gaurav Sinha, world-class businessman and entrepreneur, outlines the economics of empathy for life and for business. Here is an excerpt from the first chapter, titled Incorporating Compassion


You are on a fool’s errand if you expect the world to change around you unless you actively participate in influencing the change you seek and lead by example. This applies to countries, corporations and consumers. The true compass of compassion is powered by a purpose beyond profit that embraces principles of sustainable prosperity, tolerance and harmony. You only transmit what your antennae pick up, so tuning your frequency to the channel of compassion is the first step towards making the planet a better place.

These are contrarian times. No, I am not about to present a series of dystopian views, but I think any pragmatic analysis of the current state of affairs across the globe will give anyone reason to be very concerned. There is a lot going on in the world today and for the first time in human civilization we know there is a lot going on, in real time. From the mundane to the monumental, literally everything we need or want to know is at our fingertips. All this information leaves us in a state of pixel-obsessed permanent anxiety.
Twitter storms by the President of the United States hit the airwaves daily, sending stock markets spiralling out of control. Most media’s sensational banalities seem like a new religion, and partisan views and opinions convey raw hatred and dogmatic thinking even among the refined and educated. We are educated, but not enlightened. We are liberated, but not liberal.
They say politicians are the same the world over, promising bridges even when there are no rivers to cross, but today many politicians mostly profit by polluting rivers that feed our villages. I think you get my point about corrupt governance. We now have a world predominantly mired by characters playing to their own end-games – from the Italian who loves bunga bunga parties, the rogue African autocrat whose wife’s extravagant obsession with new shoes is no secret, the indulgent Asian strongmen who siphon off money from sovereign funds, a polarising president who denies the existence of global warming, the communist dictator with a passion for rockets, to a battalion of incoherent yet sadly impactful ruffians running amok to fulfil their own agendas. From party leaders to party-poopers, they are all playing their games. Do they exemplify benevolence and integrity?
A barrage of bullets spews across a concert, killing hundreds; civilians are carpet-bombed in the Middle East; a volcano vomits ash over an Indonesian island, displacing thousands; an earthquake kills hundreds in Mexico; a tsunami pummels an Asian coastline; many die as terrorists plough through pedestrians … we watch all this on the news, quickly condemning the culprit or circumstances, and then just as swiftly shift our attention to ‘Like’ ridiculous posts on social media by popular celebrities.
We oscillate between passive sympathy and intellectual redundancy within seconds. Civil society is shaped by the strength and virtue of worthy conversations that drive collective consciousness towards matters of significance, but today impulsive spurts of abbreviated opinions seem to be the modus operandi of even presidential personalities.
Borders are closing, trade agreements are being ripped up and promises of walls being built rally applause. Big banks brought global economies to their knees a decade ago, and now global stock markets surge to all-time highs; and we have forgotten who bailed out these organisations in the first place. It’s amazing how quickly we forget – the commerce of capitalism could quite easily be defined as immaterial gains in a materialistic world. The mission of profits at any cost leads to mass redundancies, the news of banks and other large corporations making job cuts across the world to meet quarterly targets is something we are well aware of, yet we continue to deposit our money with them as we have no other viable alternative. Our personal economies are held hostage by institutions that want more of everything, at any cost.
European countries are dealing with a wave of immigrants; nationalism, racism and liberalism collide and confuse people as populism hijacks humanism. This is a conundrum of corrupt conclusions, where compassionate minds are considered weak. Given that we are planning the first human expedition to Mars, I would imagine that accommodating and integrating refugees from one continent to another should be cause for celebration, not riots.


The world is changing, perceptions are shifting, consumers are evolving, and this book will ensure your business keeps up.

The Fox – an Excerpt

Most weapons do what you tell them. Most weapons you can control. But what if the most dangerous weapon in the world isn’t a smart missile or a stealth submarine or even an AI computer programme? What if it’s a 17-year-old boy with a blisteringly brilliant mind, who can run rings around the most sophisticated security services across the globe, who can manipulate that weaponry and turn it against the superpowers themselves?
Here is an excerpt from Frederick Forsyth’s new book, The Fox, a race-against-time thriller that goes across continents to find and capture, or protect and save, an asset with the means to change the balance of world power. Whatever happens he must not fall into the wrong hands. Because what follows after that is unthinkable…


No one saw them. No one heard them. They were not supposed to. The black-clad Special Forces soldiers slipped unseen through the pitch-dark night towards the target house.
In most town and city centres there is always a glimmer of light, even in deepest night, but this was the outer suburb of an English provincial town and all public lighting had ceased at one in the morning. This was the darkest hour, 2 a.m. A solitary fox watched them pass but instinct bade him not interfere with fellow hunters. No house lights broke the gloom.
They encountered two single humans, both on foot, both drunk after late-night partying with friends. The soldiers melted into gardens and shrubbery, disappearing black on black, until the wanderers had stumbled towards their homes.
They knew exactly where they were, having studied the streets and the target house in intimate detail for many hours. The pictures had been taken by cruising cars and overhead drones. Much enlarged and pinned to the wall of
the briefing room at Stirling Lines, the headquarters of the SAS outside Hereford, the images had been memorized to the last stone and kerb. The soft-booted men did not trip or stumble.
There were a dozen of them, and they included two Americans, inserted at the insistence of the US team that had installed itself in the embassy in London. And there were two from the British SRR, the Special Reconnaissance Regiment, a unit even more clandestine than the SAS and the SBS, the Special Air Service and the Special Boat Service respectively. The authorities had elected to use the SAS, known simply as ‘the Regiment’.
One of the two from the SRR was a woman. The Americans presumed this was to establish gender equality. It was the reverse. Observation had revealed that one of the inhabitants of the target house was female and even the British hard squads try to observe a little gallantry. The point of the presence of the SRR, sometimes referred to in the club as ‘Her Majesty’s burglars’, was to practise one of their many skill sets – covert entry.
The mission was not only to enter and subdue the target house and its denizens but to ensure they were not seen by any watcher inside and that no one escaped. They approached from all angles, appeared simultaneously around the garden fence, front, back and sides, crossed the garden and ringed the house, still unseen and unheard by neighbour or inhabitant.
No one heard the slight squeak of the diamond-tipped glass cutter as it described a neat circle in a kitchen window, nor the low crack as the disc was removed with a suction pad. A gloved hand came through the hole and unlatched the window. A black figure climbed over the sill into the sink, jumped quietly to the floor and opened the back door. The team slipped in.
Though they had all studied the architect’s plan, filed with the registry when the house was built, they still used head- mounted night-vision goggles (NVGs) in case of owner-installed obstructions or even booby- traps. They began with the ground f loor, moving from room to room to confirm there were no sentries or sleeping figures, trip wires or silent alarms.
After ten minutes the team leader was satisfied and with a nod of his head led a single- file column of five up the narrow staircase of what was evidently a very ordinary detached four- bedroom
family home. The two Americans, increasingly bewildered, remained below. This was not the way they would have subdued a thoroughly dangerous nest of terrorists. Such a house invasion back home would have involved several magazines of ammunition by now. Clearly, the Limeys were pretty weird.
Those below heard startled exclamations from above. These quickly ceased. After ten more minutes of muttered instructions the team leader uttered his first report. He did not use internet or cellphone – interceptible – but old-fashioned encrypted radio. ‘Target subdued,’ he said softly. ‘Inhabitants four. Await sunrise.’ Those who listened to him knew what would happen next. It had all been pre-planned and rehearsed.


To find out what happens next, grab a copy of Frederick Forsyth’s The FoxFor more posts like this, follow Penguin India on Facebook!

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