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Things To Leave Behind- an Excerpt

Posted on by Penguin India

Things to Leave Behind brings alive the romance of the mixed legacy of British-Indian past. A rich, panoramic historical novel that shows you Kumaon and the Raj as you have never seen them, the book is full of the fascinating backstory of Naineetal and its unwilling entry into Indian history, throwing a shining light on the elemental confusion of caste, creed and culture, illuminated with painstaking detail.Things to Leave Behind is a fascinating historical epic and Namita Gokhale’s most ambitious novel yet.
Here is a brief excerpt from the book:

In 1856,  just before the fateful year of the Indian Mutiny,  a curious phenomenon was observed in the fledgling hill station of Naineetal. Six native women, draped in black and scarlet pichauras, circled the lake for three days, singing mournful songs which no one could understand. As they used the lower road, reserved for dogs and Indians, the British sahib-log chose to ignore their antics.
The Pahari community was, however, thrown into a panic. Thehill people knew, as the British did not, that it was the inauspicious month of the Shraddhas, when the spirits of the dead and gone hover over the lake in the late autumn evenings. Scarlet and black were colours sacred to the death cults and to the goddess Kali. These women could only be dakinis, evil female spirits with some dark, accursed purpose. But they said nothing, not even to each other. They hid their apprehensions behind stern looks and a tight-lipped silence, for, sometimes, to recognize an evil is to give it more force. Then there were the snails.
In the season after the first monsoon showers, snails had begun appearing in multitudes by the lake shore. Now they lay thick on the rocks, layers and layers of them, squirming and undulating. It was not a pretty sight, and Mr Lushington tried his best to investigate the cause of this unusual occurrence. He pored through the first two volumes of the Himalayan Gazetteer, so painstakingly compiled through the admirable efforts of Mr Atkinson. He searched the sections on the forests andwild tribes, and consulted the 1835 treatise on ‘Kemaon Geology & Natural Science’ by McClellant as well as Hooker’s Himalayan Journals: Notes of a Naturalist. Finally‚ he arrived at the conclusion that a particularly prolonged summer had destroyed the frog spawn, and that the mollusc population had consequently proliferated.
The hill folk of course knew better. ‘It’s the voice of the lake goddess,’ they whispered amongst themselves. ‘The lake goddess Naina Devi has sent her servants to announce her displeasure!’ When a young Englishwoman drowned near the rocks by the Ayarpatta shore, a new certainty entered these pronouncements. The whispers were louder and more insistent. ‘The lake goddess demands propitiation,’ the local Paharis told each other. ‘She is avenging the intrusion of the white man on her sacred waters.’

Set in the years 1840 to 1912, Things to Leave Behind chronicles the mixed legacy of the British Indian past and the emergence of a fragile modernity.

Meet the Author of Vanara, Anand Neelakantan

Posted on by Penguin India

Vanara by Anand Neelakantan is a classic tale of love, lust and betrayal. Baali and Sugreeva are orphaned brothers of the Vana Nara tribe who created a peaceful country for their people after having suffered the consequences of the continuous war between the Deva tribes in the north and the Asura tribes in the south.  But tragedy strikes as the beautiful Tara, the daughter of a tribal physician becomes the love interest of both the brothers.
A tale about love and the the struggles that come with it, Anand Neelkantan weaves a story about love with the tale of the greatest warrior in the Ramayana-Baali.
Here we give you a few facts about the author:

Shakespearean in its tragic depth and epic in its sweep, Vanara gives voice to the greatest warrior in the Ramayana-Baali.

In Times of Siege – an Excerpt

Posted on by Penguin India

Staff meetings, lesson modules, a half-hearted little affair with a colleague-this is the bland but comfortable life of Shiv Murthy, a history teacher in an open university. But disruption and change are on their way-an outspoken young woman with a broken knee comes into his life and turns it upside-down. Read In Times of Siege to know how Shiv is forced to confront the demands of his times and choose a direction for the future with love, lust and a perverted nationalism at his heels.
Here is an excerpt from Gita Hariharan’s, In Times of Siege.

The wave peaked, the story goes, when a marriage was arranged between the children of two veerashaiva couples.The bride-to-be was brahmin. The bridegroom-to-be was the son of a cobbler. This marriage is more the stuff of legend and folklore than stern history. But so apt a symbol was it of the crisis Kalyana was heading towards that every subsequent popular account took it for granted. The marriage is the ineluctable climax of the story in popular memory. (There is, however, ample historical evidence that Kalyanawas rocked by violence in King Bijjala’s last days.)The story is that the marriage was the catalyst; it generated a shock that charged all of Kalyana City.
The traditionalists were already enraged by Basava’s challenge to their monopoly of god and power and the afterlife. Now, terrorized by their fear that ‘even a pig and a goat and a dog’ could become a devotee of Siva in an equal society, they condemned this marriage as the first body blow against all things known, familiar, normal. Against, in short, a society based on caste. Egalitarian ideas are bad enough, but a cobbler and a brahmin in the same bed? As well bomb Kalyana (and its vigorous trade, its prosperous temples and palace) out of existence!  King Bijjala was pressured into joining the condemnation of the marriage. He sentenced the fathers of the bride and bridegroom (and the young untouchable bridegroom) to a special death. Tied to horses, they were dragged through the streets of Kalyana; then what was left of them was beheaded.
But Basava’s followers did not call themselves warriors of Siva for nothing. They, particularly the young and the militant, particularly those who had shed the stigma of their lower-caste status to become followers of Basava, retaliated. Basava’s call for non-violence was not heard. His charisma was no longer enough to keep the moderates and the extremists among his followers together. The city burned; now in the untouchable potters’ colonies, now in the coffer-heavy temples. Basava left the city for Kudalasangama, the meeting point of rivers that had been his inspiration in his youth. The king was assassinated, allegedly by two of Basava’s young followers.
Not long after King Bijjala’s death, Basava too died under mysterious circumstances. The popular legend is that the river, the waters of the meeting rivers, took him into their allembracing arms. Though veerashaivism would live on, its great moment of pushing for social change was over. What began as a critique of the status quo would be absorbed, bit by bit, into the sponge-like body of tradition and convention. But Basava and his companions left a legacy. A vision consisting of vigorous, modern thought; poetry of tremendous beauty and depth, images that couple the radical and the mystical. Most of all, Basava’s passionate questions would remain relevant more than eight hundred years later.
 

 
“What makes a fanatic? A fundamentalist? What makes communities that have lived together for years suddenly discover a hatred for each other? The book  In Times of Siege answers these pertinent questions.

The Playlist that Inspired Fatima Bhutto's 'The Runaways'

Posted on by Penguin India

In Fatima Bhutto’s new book, The Runaways, three disparate lives cross paths in the middle of a desert, a place where life and death walk hand-in-hand, and where their closely guarded secrets will force them to make a terrible choice.
Here is a playlist piece on the songs that she listened to while writing the book, with notes on what they mean to her.
Ya Rayah – Rachid Taha

I have always loved Ya Rayah. To me, it is the most beautiful song about exile. It’s a song that’s followed me a lot in life and I felt it relate to all the characters in The Runaways.
Nour Baladi (solo drums) – Amir Sofi
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNuFcegJImU
This is the sort of music that Aloush plays in the darkened Apollo basement, it’s what draws Sunny in that first night he’s walking by and becomes the music that passes between them night after night in the club.
Layla- Eric Clapton

This is Monty’s anthem for his beloved and anyone who listens to the lyrics will know that the beloved doesn’t exactly return the devotion of the singer. But Monty is too blinded to even notice the warning in the song Layla always asks him to sing to her.
Anjane – Strings
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58yEDh_s_b0
Strings is one of Layla’s favourite bands and this is the song she sings in the car with Monty when he takes her on their night time drives around Karachi.
Mogambo – Riz MC 

This song came out after I was done writing The Runaways, but the lyrics are so incredible, like a jolt to the body. “They put their boots in our ground, I put my roots in their ground” really spoke to Sunny’s experience. But, “why you bring a tweet to a gunfight” is pure Oz to me.
Eid al Ashaq – Kadim al Seher

This is Abu Khalid’s wife’s favourite singer and Sunny hears a ghostly refrain of one of his songs in the desert.
Billie Jean remix – Punjabi MC
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oipnXZOAYTY
Billie Jean is the best song of our century. I won’t hear any debate about that. I imagine Oz, in his pre-Syria days, would have had this remix blaring out of his beat up Skoda.
Ams Intahena – Fairuz
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DKXyKUB06Q
Aloush isn’t a main character but his story and Sunny’s merge powerfully. He’s someone that has a profound impact on Sunny and I don’t want to give very much away but this is a song that belongs to them.
Hypnotise – Biggie Smalls

Monty would have listened to Biggie Smalls and been a devoted East Coast loyalist in the West Coast/East Coast divide. (Sunny meanwhile is West Coast till he dies, this difference between them tells any 90s hip hop fan a lot). Monty would have imagined himself possessing some of the rapper’s swagger and style – this to me was a song he would listened to with his friends at house parties and in the lounge at school.
Dam Mast Qalandar – Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

The Sufi poetry and the emotional resonance this song has in Sindhi, syncretic culture, always made me think of Anita Rose as a young girl in the days when she climbed the steps to Osama’s home, seeking refuge with her dear comrade.

The Runaways is an explosive new novel that asks difficult questions about modern identity in a world on fire.

The November Business Bookshelf: Books to Help Your Business Grow

Posted on by Penguin India

What does it take to bring your business to new heights? What are some of the key factors that will guarantee success? What are the changes you can make in yourself and how can you guide those who work with you?
This November we’ve put together a list of books that will tell you how to take your business to success through tips, facts and true stories. Take a look!
A Game Changer’s Memoir

A masterful strategist, GN Bajpai, in this book, recounts his truly inspiring journey as he weaved through complex rules and frameworks in his efforts to turn SEBI into an effective financial regulator for the country. Easy-flowing and readable with the writer’s anecdotal and educative style of writing and yet greatly comprehensive, this is a go-to book for a new generation of aspiring financial groundbreakers.
The Tata Saga

The Tata Saga is a collection of handpicked stories published on India’s most iconic business group. The anthology features snippets from the lives of various business leaders of the company: Ratan Tata, J.R.D. Tata, Jamsetji Tata, Xerxes Desai, Sumant Moolgaokar, F.C. Kohli, among others. There are tales of outstanding successes, crushing failures and extraordinary challenges that faced the Tata Group.
Compassion Inc

In this book, Gaurav Sinha, world-class businessman and entrepreneur, founder of Insignia in 2003, outlines the economics of empathy for life and for business. He offers actionable solutions to maintaining a successful trade in a changing global landscape where conscience, ethics and authenticity are high on the agenda. The world is changing, perceptions are shifting, consumers are evolving and this book will ensure your business keeps up.
Stories at Work

Storytelling in business is different from telling stories to friends in a bar. It needs to be based on facts. 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.

 

The Secret Network Of Nature: Interesting Secret Networks of Nature

Posted on by Penguin India

The natural world is a web of intricate connections, many of which go unnoticed by humans. But it is these connections that maintain nature’s finely balanced equilibrium.
Drawing on the latest scientific discoveries and decades of experience as a forester and bestselling author, Peter Wohlleben shows us, in his new book titled The Secret Network of Nature, how different animals, plants, rivers, rocks and weather systems cooperate, and what’s at stake when these delicate systems are unbalanced.
Here are two interesting secret networks of nature that we find in his book:
Wolves and the Course of Rivers
In the nineteenth century, people began to systematically eradicate wolves in Yellowstone, the first national park in the United States. This was primarily in response to pressure from ranchers in the surrounding areas, who were worried about their grazing livestock.
“No sooner was the pressure from predators lifted than elk populations began to increase steadily, and large areas of the park were stripped bare by the voracious animals. Riverbanks were particularly hard hit. The juicy grass by the river  disappeared, along with all the saplings growing there. Now this desolate landscape didn’t provide enough food even for birds, and the number of species declined drastically. Beaves were among the losers, because they depend not only on water but also on the trees that grow by the river – willows and poplars are some of their favourite foods. They cut them down so they can get at the trees’ nutrient-rich new growth, which they devour with relish. Because all the young deciduous trees alongside the water were ending up in the stomachs of hungry elk, the beavers had nothing to gnaw on, and they disappeared.
Riverbanks became wastelands, and without any vegetation to protect the ground, seasonal flooding washed away ever-increasing quantities of soil. Erosion advanced rapidly. As a result, the rivers began to meander more and follow increasingly winding paths through the landscape. And the less protection from the underlying layers of soil, the more pronounced the serpentine tendency, especially in the flat landscape.”
Salmon and Trees
“Young salmon swim out into the ocean, where they remain for two to four years. They hunt and hang out, but mostly what they are doing is getting bigger and fatter. On the north-west coast of North America there are a number of different species of salmon, of which the king salmon is the largest. After its youthful years at sea, a full-grown kind can be up to 1.5 meters long and weigh up to 30 kilograms. After scouring the vastness of the ocean in search of food, not only has it built up a lot of muscle, but it has also stored a lot of fat, which it will need to survive its strenuous journey back to the river where it was born.
Salmon battle their way against the current towards the headwaters of these rivers, sometimes for many hundreds of miles and up numerous waterfalls. They carry considerable quantities of nitrogen and phosphorus in their bodies, but these nutrients are of no significance to the salmon themselves. The only reason they are toiling their way upstream is so they can spawn, in the one and only frenzy of passion they will ever experience, and then finally breathe their last.
Over the course of their journey, the salmon’s silvery skin loses its metallic sheen and takes on a reddish hue. The fish are no longer eating, and as they deplete their stores of fat they are steadily losing weight. Using the last of their strength, they mate in their natal streams, and then, exhausted, they die. For the forest all around and its inhabitants, the salmon run means it’s time to get out and haul in the catch. Lining the riverbanks are hungry hunters – bears. And along the Pacific coast of North America, this means black bears and brown bears. The fish they catch from the rapids as the salmon fight their way upstream help them put on a thick layer of fat for the winter.
Depending on location and timing, the salmon have already lost some weight by the time they’re caught. At first the bears eat most of their catch, but later in the season they get choosier. They still scoop skinny salmon out of the water – fish that have used up their fat reserves and therefore contain fewer calories – but if the fish don’t contain much fat, the bears don’t eat much of them, and the carcasses they discard five many other animals the opportunity of a meal. Mink, foxes, birds of prey and a myriad of insects pounce on the lightly nibbled remains and drag them father into the undergrowth.
After mealtime, some parts of the salmon (such as the bones and the head) are left lying around to fertilise the soil directly. A lot of nitrogen is also distributed through the faeces the animals expel after their feast, and overall the amount of nitrogen that ends up in the forests alongside salmon streams is enormous. According to their detailed molecular analyses, reported scientists Scott M. Gende and Thomas P. Quinn, up to 70 per cent of the nitrogen in vegetation growing alongside these streams comes from the ocean – in other words, from salmon. Their data also show that nitrogen from salmon speeds up the growth of trees to such an extent that Sitka spruce in these areas grow up to three times faster than they would have without the fish fertiliser. In some trees, more than 80 per cent of the nitrogen they contain can be traced back to fish. How can we know this so precisely? The key is the isotope nitrogen-15, which in the Pacific Northwest is found almost exclusively in the ocean – or in fish.”

The Secret Network on Nature gives us a chance to marvel at the inner workings and unlikely partnerships of the natural world, where every entity has its own distinct purpose.

What Is Religion, and How Do Economists Think about It? – an Excerpt

Posted on by Penguin India

Religion has not been a popular target for economic analysis. Yet the tools of economics can offer deep insights into how religious groups compete, deliver social services, and reach out to potential converts-how, in daily life, religions nurture and deploy market power.
Here is an excerpt from Sriya Iyer’s book, The Economics of Religion in India.

It is 6 a.m. in the South Indian temple town of Swamimalai. The temple is buzzing with activity: priests in traditional dress chant holy scriptures in harmony; sticks of sandalwood incense and oil lamps are lit till they glow brightly; vendors hawk their wares loudly, selling fruits, flowers, and garlands to adorn the temple idols. The idols themselves are bathed in milk and honey and dressed for the day in beautiful rainbow- colored silks, bedecked with jewels. The smell of sweet rice and jaggery cooking together for the morning prasadam (an offering to the gods) fills the air. And yet for all its beauty and grandeur, the exotic sights and smells of a South Indian temple at dawn is just another early morning ritual for the residents of this little town on the banks of the Kaveri River— a heady cocktail of prayer, jasmine, roses, sandalwood, jaggery, oil, and ghee that is believed to preserve and protect them forever.
The aim of this book is to discuss why economists need to be concerned about bringing their insights and methods to bear on the study of religion, and how this might be helpful for development policy— not just in India, with which this book is primarily concerned, but also in other countries characterized by religious pluralism. In The Religion We Need, the distinguished Indian philosopher of religion Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan wrote that religion “is an expression of the spiritual experience of a race, a record of its social evolution, an integral element of the society in which it is
found” (1928, 25). Almost forty years after Radhakrishnan wrote his book, two sociologists of religion, Charles Glock and Rodney Stark, defined religion in Religion and Society in Tension as “what societies hold to be sacred, comprises an institutionalized system of symbols, beliefs, values, and practices focused on questions of ultimate meaning” (1965, 4). Scholars have grappled for centuries with the question of how to define religion. For economists, definitions are central to the process of modeling. Yet the vast scholarship on defining religion suggests that it is not possible to define it precisely. Of course, there are very famous textbook definitions that social
scientists agree are helpful in this respect. Émile Durkheim’s definition of religion is usually considered one the most famous: “A religion is a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden— beliefs and practices which unite into one single moral community called a Church, all those who adhere to them” (1915, 4).
Economists use economic theories to understand religion and draw upon both theoretical and empirical economics to help elucidate religious practice and religious change. This chapter draws upon literatures in sociology, philosophy, and history to discuss these issues and illustrate how economists can make useful contributions to existing thinking on religion and its role in society. For example, I explore issues such as the secularization hypothesis; the relationship between religious pluralism and religious participation; why some religions appear to become more flexible or accommodating as they evolve over time, while others develop more fundamentalist groups of adherents; and the resilience of religion (Stark and Finke 2002). I also discuss the manner in which religion contributes significantly to the building of norms and networks among populations. I contrast these economic theories, which claim to account for the resilience of religion, with theories from other disciplines such as those involving family socialization, social networks, and a belief in otherworldly or supernatural elements. The key aim of the book is to view the persistence of religion in societies not merely as the outcome of largely sociological processes, but also as a rational economic response to changes in the political, ecological, and economic environments in which religions operate. The competitive, adaptive, pluralistic, and fragmented character of Hinduism makes the economic approach both particularly helpful and indeed necessary for understanding religion in India. Moreover, while much academic research has been devoted and is being devoted to the study of Christianity and Islam, relatively little work, at least in economics, is devoted to the study of Hinduism. This book attempts to fill that gap in the literature.

The Economics of Religion in India has much to teach us about India and other pluralistic societies the world over, and about the power of economics to illuminate some of societies’ deepest beliefs and dynamics.

Shot in the Dark

Posted on by Penguin India

by Aslesha Kadian

30 May 1999.
Kriti was restless. She was hovering around her mother who was packing at a frantic pace. They were to leave for Srinagar in a couple of hours to spend the summer vacations with her father who was commanding a battalion about a 100 km north of the city.
It had been seven months since she last saw him. The calls had not been very regular either. She was looking forward to cutting her tenth birthday cake with him in three days. She missed him.
Her grandfather, who she fondly called Kaku, was to drop them to the airport.
Minutes later, her mother shoved her into the bathroom. Kriti had picked out her purple t-shirt that her father loved. They had spoken that morning and he had promised to be at the airport.
Hours later, they landed in Srinagar. Two tall, uniformed men whisked them away from the aircraft and into a Gypsy. Her father wasn’t there. Well, he will be at the camp, she consoled herself. Even Shamir, his right-hand man and shadow, wasn’t there.
Shamir was a Kashmiri. Kriti loved his grey eyes and was very fond of him. He had taught her many badminton tricks and shown her how to pick ripe cherries straight from the trees. He had a daughter who was the same age.
Kriti hated the bulletproof vehicles. They were suffocating. There were not even any windows she could peep out of, just tiny spaces from where the mouths of the AK-47s jutted out.
She didn’t know when she dozed off. The next thing she remembered was being scooped out of the Gypsy by her father. She almost didn’t recognize him because of his beard, but the twinkle in his eyes was the same. Right behind him was Shamir, holding out a toffee for her.
After a while, when her father finally put her down, she clutched on to his waist as he took her mother and her around the small camp. Shamir was close behind at all times. The camp was the same as the others she had seen. The accommodation in one corner, a long tent that doubled up as the officers’ mess and the basketball and badminton courts in another corner.
She felt like she was in familiar territory. Hopping and skipping, she raced up to their room that would be home for the next few weeks. From the window, she could see the snow-peaked mountains in the distance. But she knew that once it was dark they would have to draw the dark curtains and avoid switching on the bright tube light. Her father said it drew attention and could make them potential targets.
She slept early that day. The next two days were spent prancing around the camp with Shamir. The evenings were spent gulping down glass after glass of Coca-Cola, all the time fearing her mother would find out.
On the eve of her birthday, her father had organized a small party in the officers’ mess. Though there was nobody her age there, she was enjoying the attention. At some point, in the midst of the glasses clinking, she fell asleep.
She woke up to hear bullets being fired. She crept out of bed and walked to the window. Were that sparks darting across the boundary wall? Her mother came out of the bathroom and pulled her away from the window. Kriti knew her father was out there. She put her hand under his pillow. Yes, his rifle was missing. He was definitely out there. But where? Behind the camp were orchards. It seemed scary even during the day. She dreaded the thought of stepping into it in pitch darkness. She got into bed and hugged her mother tight.
Minutes later, they heard footsteps. Then there was a knock. Her mother cautiously stepped out of the bed and picked up a thick stick from under the bed. She opened the door an inch. The person on the other side, a tall man in black clothes with a black cloth sweeping across his face, barged in.
Kriti tried screaming but no noise escaped her throat. The man pulled her roughly and threw her over his shoulders. Kriti barely caught a glimpse of her mother. Her face was white. The man raced down the stairs. Her mother followed. Strangely, she wasn’t screaming or shouting.
At the door, she saw Shamir. Kriti extended a hand towards him. His usual smiling face wore a deadpan look. She wanted to ask him where her father was! Why didn’t he try to stop this man who was taking her away!
The man sprinted towards the officers’ mess. She could see Shamir and her mother running behind them. Was Mummy wearing a bulletproof jacket?
The sight of Shamir was comforting for her. She could see his eyes fixed on her unflinchingly.
Just then, the man faltered. It was almost as if someone had pushed him. Kriti, whose hand was holding on to his hair, felt something wet at the base of his neck. She could smell something metallic. She felt dizzy. Her head felt like it would burst. Her half-open eyes desperately searched for her mother and Shamir in the darkness. The man had made it to the tent of the officers’ mess by then. He pushed apart the flap covering the entrance and paused for a second. He turned his head. That was when Kriti saw her mother kneeling down. Shamir! He must have tripped, she thought. She wanted to go check on him and pull her mother and him into the tent.
Inside the tent, the man almost threw her off his back and ran up to the table at the other end. She could see familiar faces all around. She looked at the man in black clothes. His gaze sent a chill down her spine. And then he pulled the black cloth away from his face. She was stunned. She couldn’t believe what she saw.
The man was her father! And then she saw the blood. His ear was bleeding. She could see his black shirt glistening because of the blood. She didn’t know whether she was scared or relieved.
Just then her mother ran inside, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mother was fine, but where was Shamir! Was he hurt? Why wasn’t her father going to help him? Where was the doctor?
She heard a few more shots and then there was silence. All the lights had been switched off. Her father grabbed a torch and headed out. He came back within minutes. Kriti ran to him. His face was wet. Was he crying? Why?
Moments later, two soldiers came in with a body. Her father knelt beside it. His head was bent forward. Was he praying? Kriti walked up to him; nobody stopped her. She hid behind her father, peeking out from behind him.
Shamir lay motionless. There was a hole in his forehead. Her father pulled her close. She managed to speak up. ‘Dad?’
‘He always joked that he would take a bullet for me. Today, he actually did.’ With that, a tear made its way down her father’s face.
That was the last time Kriti saw Shamir, but she never forgot his smile.
The next day, a new man walked behind her father. He did the same things that Shamir did for him; he even tried to befriend Kriti and take her out for a few basketball shots. But it wasn’t the same, neither for her, nor for her father.

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