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Category: Features

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Lessons Life Taught Me, Unknowingly: 7 Inspiring Instances from Anupam Kher’s Life

Posted on by Penguin India

In his autobiography Anupam Kher acknowledges the truths which set him on the path to success.

A good storyteller starts at the very beginning and Kher has an interesting story related to his birth that leads him to believe that his was not just a routine birth.

This listicle takes us, in Kher’s own words, through a few lessons that have been milestones in Kher’s life and which have made him feel that he is ‘destiny’s special child’!

  1. “My life lesson has always been there is no point in thinking of what could have been—for I lay great store by John Lennon’s quote.”

  2. In contrast to modern nuclear families, I grew up with an assortment of Khers of all ages, which gave me a head start in learning the lessons related to sharing, tolerance and respecting diverse viewpoints and ideas.”

  3. “I think living with grandparents is the most significant factor in the growth of any child. At least, it was for me and my brother.”

  4. “There is no reason why anyone should find it difficult to stay close to their roots and remain grounded even after they taste success.”

  5. “Whatever be the adversities one faces, if one approaches the situation with a humorous perspective, then one is spared the angst, the tension and the stress that are nowadays part and parcel of day-to-day life and living.”

  6. “My own experiences have taught me that tragedy and trauma teach you a lot and makes you aware of who you are if you don’t indulge in self-pity.”

  7. “……I should be prepared for ups and downs but not let anything drag me down.”

  8. “The choice you make can distinguish between the ordinary and the extraordinary.”

  9. “I have learnt that failure is the one thing you should not fear in life. Better to experience it, face it, live it and thereby conquer, it by overcoming it.”

  10. “If you are unable to fake an emotion, don’t fake it. If you are suffocated by loneliness, speak to someone; reach out to a loved one. You don’t need to fit in! You are not alone.”

Get ready to be even more inspired in Kher’s autobiography, Lessons Life Taught Me, Unknowingly.

The Belief of Oneness in Sikhism, Savayye: An Excerpt from ‘Hymns of the Sikh Gurus’

Posted on by Penguin India

The vision of Guru Nanak, the fifteenth-century founder of the Sikh faith, celebrated the oneness of the Divine that both dwells within and transcends the endless diversity of life. Guru Nanak’s immaculate vision inspired the rich and inclusive philosophy of Sikhism, which is reflected in this exquisite and highly acclaimed translation of poems,Hymns of the Sikh Gurus, from the religion’s most sacred texts: the Guru Granth Sahib, the principal sacred text of the Sikh religion, which consists of poems and hymns by Guru Nanak, his successors and Hindu and Islamic saints; and the Dasam Granth, a collection of devotional verses composed by the tenth Sikh Guru.

Read an excerpt from this book this Gurpurab:

 

MORNING AND INITIATION
Savayye

SAVAYYE means quatrains. The ten Savayye that have been included in the Sikhs’ morning prayers are from Guru Gobind Singh’s Dasam Granth (see p. 1). They underscore devotion as the essence of religion. They reject all forms of external worship and cast Guru Nanak’s message of internal love in beautiful undulating rhythm. These Savayye are also recited during the administration of amrita, the initiation ceremony of the Khalsa (the Sikh order).

There is One Being. Victory to the wonderful Guru.

The composition of the Tenth Guru.

My wonderful Guru, I recite the Savayye by Your grace.

I have seen hosts of purists and ascetics,
I have visited the homes of yogis and celibates.
Heroes and demons, practitioners of purity
and drinkers of ambrosia, hosts of saints
from countless religions, I have seen them all.
I have seen religions from all countries,
but I have yet to see followers of the Creator.
Without love for the Almighty,
without grace from the Almighty,
all practices are without a grain of worth.

 

Drunken elephants draped in gold,
first among giants in blazing colours,
Herds of horses, sprinting like gazelles,
swifter than the wind,
The people bow their heads to strong-armed rulers,
But what if they be such mighty owners;
at the last, they depart barefoot from the world.

 

Conquerors of the world march triumphant
to the beat of kettledrums.
Their herds of handsome elephants trumpet,
their royal steeds lustily neigh.

These rulers of past, future and present
can never be counted.
Without worshipping the supreme Sovereign,
all end in the house of death.

Pilgrimage, ablutions and charities, self-restraint
and countless rituals,
Study of Vedas, Puranas, Kateb and Qur’an,
of all scriptures from all times and places,
Ascetics subsisting on air, practising celibacy;
countless such have I seen and considered.
Without remembering the One, without love for the One,
all rulers and actions go to naught.

 

Inured and invincible warriors in shining armour,
determined to crush the enemy,
Proudly think, mountains may grow wings and fly away,
but never us.
They can shatter their enemy, they can wring their foe,
they can crush legions of drunken elephants,
But without the grace of the One,
they too must depart this world.

 

Countless heroes and doughty warriors
who stand fast against the blows of iron,
Who conquer lands and enemies,
who crush the pride of drunken elephants,
Who raze sturdy castles, who gain the world by words,
They are all beggars at the divine Portal,
the almighty Ruler is the only Giver.

 

Gods, demons, serpents, and ghosts contemplate
Your Name in all time—past, present, and future.

All creatures of land and sea,
You instantly create and destroy.
Their virtuous deeds are heartily celebrated,
their piles of misdeeds utterly eradicated.
The devout go happily in this world,
their enemies sink in shame.

Rulers of mortals and mighty elephants,
leaders of the three worlds,
Performers of endless rituals and charities,
winners of brides in countless swayamvara rites,
Like Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu and Sachi’s husband,
they all end at last in death.
They who touch the feet of the Transcendent One,
they alone are freed from the cycle of birth and death.

 

How futile to sit in contemplation,
like a stork with both eyes closed.
While trying to bathe in the seven seas,
we lose this world and the next.
How futile to sink in misdeeds,
we only waste away our life.
I tell the truth, do listen to me,
they alone who love, find the Beloved.

 

Some worship stones, some bear them on their heads;
some wear phalluses around their necks.
Some claim to see the One in the south;
some bow their heads to the west.
Some worship idols, some images of animals;
some run to worship the dead and their graves.
The entire world is lost in false ritual;
none knows the mystery of the Almighty One.

Poetry from these highly revered texts is heard daily and at rites of passage and celebration in Sikh homes and gurudwaras, carrying forward the Sikh belief in the oneness and equality of all humanity.Read Hymns of the Sikh Gurus to know more about these.

The Bard of Ballimaran- Mirza Ghalib

Posted on by Penguin India

Emerging from the narrow lanes of Old Delhi, Mirza Ghalib’s couplets took wing on the hallowed reverence of millions of dreamers and became entrenched in public imagination. His words breathed fervour into many ardent professions of love and added depth to sombre musings on life.

Hidden behind the dazzling effulgence of his poetry was a man burnished by adversity. Reflecting the ironic duality that marked his life, Ghalib luxuriated in poetic verse and yet languished in material indigence.

‘Ghalib’s self-presentation was of one who lived a life of affluence and leisure, where he was respected as a thinker and honoured by the powerful. In reality, his poetic prowess was relatively unacknowledged in his own time, and his existence was marked by deep and constant financial insecurity exacerbated by the fact that he all too often backed the wrong horse in the context of a constantly shifting field of power.’ writes Raza Mir.

In Ghalib- A Thousand Desires, Raza Mir presents an illuminating account of Mirza Mohammad Asadullah Khan ‘Ghalib’s life and work. Read on for a glimpse-

 

    1. Born in 1797 in Agra to Mirza Abdullah Baig, Mirza Asadullah Khan belonged to a family of soldiers of Turkish ancestry. Losing his father in the early years of life left the young Khan and the Baig family in dire financial straits. Riling up contemporaries and benefactors with his sharp wit and cantankerous temper, the comfort of companionship and material rewards eluded Mirza for most of his life.

 

    1. At the young age of 9, Asadullah Khan began writing poetry in Persian with the pen name ‘Asad’ (lion). He later adopted the name ‘Ghalib’ (dominant) which went on to become synonymous with poetic genius. Lauded for his talent by the incomparable poet Mir, one of the few whom Ghalib admired, he went on to become the poet laureate of the court of Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar.

 

    1. Asadullah Khan- a young thirteen year old- married Umrao Begum who was eleven at the time. Setting course in an orbit of separation, the couple experienced the loss of their seven beloved children even as Ghalib gravitated towards the pinnacle of poetic fame. In Delhi, the couple shared their life with Umrao Begum’s family before moving into a house, gifted by Umrao’s cousin, in the charmingly chaotic Gali Qasim Jan of the Ballimaran neighbourhood.

 

    1. Divaan-e Ghalib, a collection of Ghalib’s poetry, was first published by Syed-ul Akhbar Press in Delhi and saw more re-prints than perhaps any other book of Urdu literature. He went on to write an account of the rebellion of 1857 in Ghalib’s Urdu letters are published in a book titled Ud-e Hindi (Indian Perfume)

 

  1. After his death in 1869, Altaf Husain Hali published Yaadgaar-e Ghalib (In the Memory of Ghalib), the first definitive biography of Mirza Ghalib. Such was the stature of the great poet that the Indian government issued a ‘Mirza Ghalib’ stamp in his honour while Ghalib’s grave was turned into a memorial and is still a place of reverence in the lanes of Ballimaran.

Mirza Ghalib, the most illustrious Urdu poet in English, continues to delight and inspire as the magic of his poetic genius lifts his words out of the yellowed pages of history to shine like a beam of luminous moonlight onto the harried hordes of our generation.

Read Raza Mir’s Ghalib: A Thousand Desires to capture the essence of Mirza Ghalib!

Your Daily Dose of Motivation: Get Inspired with Marie Forleo!

Posted on by Penguin India

Inspired by a line uttered by her mother, Marie Forleo’s Everything is Figureoutable is all that it promises to be and more! It makes self help and motivation fun by inserting anecdotes, personal stories and humour in its pages.

We share with you some quick quotes and stories from the book to that continue to inspire us and hope they will give you your daily dose of motivation too!

Oprah’s Story

‘When Oprah Winfrey was sixteen, she saw Barbara Walters on television. She was so deeply moved and inspired that she said to herself, “Maybe I could do that.” Oprah went on to share, “There’s no other woman that deserves more in terms of opening the door for my career.” In that statement, Oprah is not talking about Barbara Walters “opening doors” by recommending her for broadcasting jobs. She’s talking about the fact that merely witnessing another woman on televeision cracked open a possibility within Oprah’s consciousness about what was possible for her. It’s hard to become what you don’t see.’

~

Judging Failures

‘[…]When I bombed [the] Missy Elliott audition years earlier, Nike Elite Dance Athletes didn’t exist yet. There’s no way I could have dreamed to reach that specific goal, because no one had done it before! It simply had not been created.

But my Missy failure spurred a necessary shift in my focus, pushing me to spend the next few years unknowingly training in the exact mix of hip-hop, dance and fitness that prepared me to win that Nike position when it appeared!

Don’t be so quick to judge your supposed failure. A flop might be a cosmic redirect, guiding you to a better, bigger purpose.”

~

On Opinions and Criticism

“Let’s say you love chocolate, but you have a friend who despises chocolate. Does that mean chocolate sucks? No. It means one person doesn’t like chocolate. Chocolate makers don’t lose sleep over that. They’re not campaigning to convert the haters. They focus all their attention on chocolate lovers.”

~

Be You.

“Consider all the things that have brought you value, joy, or growth throughout your lifetime. Every song that’s made your head bop. Every movie that’s made you laugh, cry, or expand your point of view. Every athlete or artist who’s inspired you to reach for more. Every invention that’s made your life easier. Every restaurant that’s served a dish that made you moan with delight. […]

Imagine if all those beautiful people never followed the call of their soul – never “figured out” their dreams and created and contributed and shared. I say this at the end of eve MarieTV episode and I’ll say it to you now:

The world needs that special gift that only you have.”

~

Share the Shame

‘Most high achievers struggle with feeling like a fake, but never talk about it. It’s like a dirty little secret everyone’s afraid to admit. I’ll tell you right now – I still feel this way at times and I’ve been doing this work for almost two decades. Brene Brown says, “As a shame researcher, I know that the very best thing to do in the midst of a shame attack is totally counterintuitive. Practice courage and reach out!”

Bronte is on point. You know why? Because shame shrivels when you share it out loud.’

To make life a little more figureoutable, get your copy today!

An Excerpt from the Newest Jack Reacher Novel ‘Blue Moon’

Posted on by Penguin India

Lee Child’s Jack Reacher is back in Blue Moon!

Reacher is trained to notice things. He’s on a greyhound bus, watching an elderly man sleeping in his seat, with a fat envelope of cash hanging out of his pocket. Another passenger is watching too… Obviously hoping to get rich quick. As the mugger makes his move, Reacher steps in. The old man is grateful, yet he turns down Reacher’s offer to help him home. He’s vulnerable, scared, and clearly in big, big trouble. Will Reacher sit back and let things happen?

Read an excerpt from the book below:

The city looked small on a map of America.  It was just a tiny polite dot, near a red threadlike road that ran across an otherwise empty half inch of paper.  But up close and on the ground it had half a million people.  It covered more than a hundred square miles.  It had nearly a hundred and fifty thousand households.  It had more than two thousand acres of parkland.  It spent half a billion dollars a year, and raised almost as much through taxes and fees and charges.  It was big enough that the police department was twelve hundred strong.

And it was big enough that organized crime was split two separate ways.  The west of the city was run by Ukrainians.  The east was run by Albanians.  The demarcation line between them was gerrymandered as tight as a congressional district.  Nominally it followed Center Street, which ran north to south and divided the city in half, but it zigged and zagged and ducked in and out to include or exclude specific blocks and parts of specific neighborhoods, wherever it was felt historic precedents justified special circumstances.  Negotiations had been tense.  There had been minor turf wars.  There had been some unpleasantness.  But eventually an agreement had been reached.  The arrangement seemed to work.  Each side kept out of the other’s way.  For a long time there had been no significant contact between them.

Until one morning in May.  The Ukrainian boss parked in a garage on Center Street, and walked east into Albanian territory.  Alone.  He was fifty years old and built like a bronze statue of an old hero, tall, hard, and solid.  He called himself Gregory, which was as close as Americans could get to pronouncing his given name.  He was unarmed, and he was wearing tight pants and a tight T shirt to prove it.  Nothing in his pockets.  Nothing concealed.  He turned left and right, burrowing deep, heading for a backstreet block, where he knew the Albanians ran their businesses out of a suite of offices in back of a lumber yard.

He was followed all the way, from his first step across the line.  Calls were made ahead, so that when he arrived he was faced by six silent figures, all standing still in the half circle between the sidewalk and the lumber yard’s gate.  Like chess pieces in a defensive formation.  He stopped and held his arms out from his sides.  He turned around slowly, a full 360, his arms still held wide.  Tight pants, tight T shirt.  No lumps.  No bulges.  No knife.  No gun.  Unarmed, in front of six guys who undoubtedly weren’t.  But he wasn’t worried.  To attack him unprovoked was a step the Albanians wouldn’t take.  He knew that.  Courtesies had to be observed.  Manners were manners.

One of the six silent figures stepped up.  Partly a blocking maneuver, partly ready to listen.

Gregory said, “I need to speak with Dino.”

Dino was the Albanian boss.

The guy said, “Why?”

“I have information.”

“About what?”

“Something he needs to know.”

“I could give you a phone number.”

“This is a thing that needs to be said face to face.”

“Does it need to be said right now?”

“Yes, it does.”

The guy said nothing for a spell, and then he turned and ducked through a personnel door set low in a metal roll-up gate.  The other five guys formed up tighter, to replace his missing presence.  Gregory waited.  The five guys watched him, part wary, part fascinated.  It was a unique occasion.  Once in a lifetime.  Like seeing a unicorn.  The other side’s boss.  Right there.  Previous negotiations had been held on neutral ground, on a golf course way out of town, on the other side of the highway.

Gregory waited.  Five long minutes later the guy came back out through the personnel door.  He left it open.  He gestured.  Gregory walked forward and ducked and stepped inside.  He smelled fresh pine and heard the whine of a saw.

The guy said, “We need to search you for a wire.”

Gregory nodded and stripped off his T shirt.  His torso was thick and hard and matted with hair.  No wire.  The guy checked the seams in his T shirt and handed it back.  Gregory put it on and ran his fingers through his hair.

The guy said, “This way.”

Two rival criminal gangs are competing for control in Blue Moon. Will Jack Reacher be able to stop bad things from happening? Read to find out!

5 Specific Weaknesses that Have Prevented India from Realizing its Full Potential from ‘India: Still a Shackled Giant’

Posted on by Penguin India

India is one of the largest economies in the world today and it has been predicted that it would become the third largest economy by 2030. Yet, an average Indian is worse off than his counterpart in other developing nations like Algeria, Indonesia, Mongolia and Morocco. The tethers of corruption and fragility have prevented it from becoming an Asian Tiger.

In India: Still A Shackled Giant, Dev Kar, a former senior economist at the International Monetary Fund shines light on why India is still, even after 70 years of independence, unable to reach its full potential to join democratic giants like the United States, Germany, and Japan.

 

Fragility

Fragility is a state of affairs, consisting of many economic, social, demographic, political, environmental, and security-related pressure points that either strengthen or weaken a nation state. If fragility is left unchecked, the nation can slide towards civil war and break up. The overall fragile states index (FSI) is derived from twelve sub- indices which are: demographic pressures, economic inequality, economy, external intervention, factionalized elites, group grievance, human flight and brain drain, human rights, public services, security apparatus, state legitimacy, and refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs). (page 15)

India’s overall fragility increased from the ninety-third rank in 2006 to the seventy-second rank in 2018. India’s slide by twenty-one ranks over this period was mainly driven by uneven development (such as rising income inequality), human flight and brain drain, state legitimacy, demographic pressures and security apparatus.

Dirty Politics

There is no doubt that the source of corruption in India is its rotten politics. If politicians can use black money to get elected, criminals can contest elections and win, and if they can all play vote bank politics, what kind of example do they set for the rest of the country? These days, it seems every political party needs criminals to intimidate the opposition, suppress dissent, and extract rent in order to ensure its hold over power. Under the circumstances, there can be neither raj (rule) nor neeti (ethics) left in rajneeti (politics).

Another way of looking at this sad state of affairs is that many voters perceive the criminal politicians to be more effective in delivering government services. I think, either way, from the supply of criminal politicians to the demand for them, they pose a huge problem for any democracy and its governance.

A Taxing Problem

Ever since Independence, India has had two main problems with taxation—a narrow tax base and significant tax evasion. A narrow tax base means only a small portion of India’s population is paying income taxes. Out of a population of some 1.3 billion people, only about 4 per cent file pay income taxes, which make up the largest part of direct taxes. (page 141)

A country trying to raise adequate tax revenues from a narrow base ends up running large fiscal deficits given increasing government expenditures to meet multiple development objectives. Fiscal deficits in turn hamper economic growth and lead to economic instability through rampant inflation, higher interest rates, or increasing foreign debt. It is the poor who suffer disproportionately.

According to the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy (CMIE), nearly thirty-one million Indians are unemployed and looking for jobs. While economic growth has been humming along around 7–8 per cent per annum recently, the pace of job creation has been poor. While unemployment is naturally an emotive issue in a country of 1.3 billion people with a young workforce, the capacity to generate jobs is not in the hands of any politician, regardless of their promises. The bottom line is that for unemployment to come down during any period, the number of new jobs created must be greater than the number of people entering the labour market during that period. The problem of employment in India is twofold. First, India needs to invest in more education, vocational training and health. Second, there is a need to shrink the size of the informal sector by helping more workers to switch to jobs in the formal sector.

No Care about Healthcare

Healthcare in India still has a long way to go in terms of access to good facilities and reliable doctors, particularly in smaller towns and villages. While the rich in India can afford to get reasonable treatment at a price they can afford, the poor can’t. The quality of public hospitals is extremely poor and they pose serious risks to the life and well-being of patients. Moreover, the credentials of many doctors are suspect. To make matters worse, there are no independent regulatory bodies to accredit, monitor and disseminate reviews of medical providers.

Grab your copy of this book today to know learn about these barriers in detail and discover how India can find the road to redemption.

An Excerpt from Bibek Debroy’s Translation of ‘The Bhagavad Gita’

Posted on by Penguin India

As far as traditional Indian stories and lore go, The Bhagavad Gita is an enduring and nuanced reflection of the relationship between action and consequence, agency and choice. Bibek Debroy’s translation of the book is highly relevant and now accessible to a whole new generation of readers.

Here’s an excerpt that presents a glimpse into the insights this book has to offer!

 

‘Without performing action, man is not freed from the
bondage of action. And resorting to sannyasa does not
result in liberation.’

~

‘No one can ever exist, even for a short while, without
performing action. Because the qualities of nature force
everyone to perform action.’

~

‘The ignorant person who exists by controlling his organs of
action, while his mind remembers the senses, is said to be
deluded and is a hypocrite.’

~

‘O Arjuna! But he who restrains the senses through his mind
and starts the yoga of action with the organs of action, while
remaining unattached, he is superior.

~

‘Therefore, do the prescribed action. Because action is
superior to not performing action. And without action, even
survival of the body is not possible.’

~

‘O son of Kunti! All action other than that for sacrifices
shackles people to the bondage of action. Therefore, do
action for that purpose, without attachment.

~

‘Earlier, Prajapati created beings, accompanied by a
sacrifice and said, “With this, may you increase, and may
this grant you all objects you desire.’

~

‘Through this, cherish the gods and those gods will
cherish you. By cherishing each other, you will obtain that
which is most desired.’

~

‘Because, cherished by the sacrifice, the gods will give you all
desired objects. He who enjoys these without giving them
their share is certainly a thief.’

~

‘Righteous people who enjoy the leftovers  of sacrifices
are freed from all sins. But those sinners who cook only for
themselves live on sin.’

~

‘Beings are created from food and food is created from rain
clouds. Rain clouds are created from sacrifices and sacrifices
are created from action.’

Full of life-lessons and thought-provoking debates on morals, Bibek Debroy’s Bhagavad Gita is more relevant than ever.

Words of the Sage: Excerpt from ‘The Markandeya Purana’

Posted on by Penguin India

Celebrated author and scholar Bibek Debroy’s masterful translation allows a whole new generation of readers to discover Sage Markandeya’s wisdom. His narrative unfolds as a series of conversations with Markandeya that explore the deep, fundamental questions raised by the Mahabharata.

Join in the conversation through this excerpt:

“The Indra among men must not succumb to desire. The lord of the earth must first control himself, then the ministers, servants and citizens. It is only after he knows this has been done that he acts against the enemy. If a king tries to conquer the enemy without conquering these, he is conquered by advisers who have not conquered themselves. He is then bound down by arrays of the enemy. O son! Therefore, a lord of the earth must first conquer desire and the other vices. When he has conquered them, the king conquers. If he has not conquered them, he is destroyed. A wicked king is destroyed by enemies like desire, anger, avarice, insolence, pride and delight. It is remembered that Pandu was brought down because he was addicted to desire. Since he could not control his anger, Anuhlada killed his own son. Aila was killed because he was greedy. Because of his insolence, Vena was killed by brahmanas. The son of Anayusha was killed because of his pride. Puranjaya was destroyed because of delight. Having conquered these enemies, the great-souled Marutta  conquered everything. Remembering this, a lord of the earth must cast aside the six vices. A king must learn from the conduct of a crow, a cuckoo, a bee, a crane, a snake, a peacock, a swan, a cock and iron. Towards the enemy, a lord of men must behave like an owl. At the right time, the lord of the earth must act like an ant. His acts will be known as much as fire in kindling or seeds in silk-cotton. Like the sun and the moon, he must protect the earth through his policy. He must learn from a courtesan, a lotus, a sharabha, a shulika and a woman with heavy breasts. The lord of the earth must formulate policy on the basis of sama, dana, danda and bheda and protect the earth. Like a chandala woman, he must use his wisdom and serve. If he wishes to protect the earth, the lord of the earth must follow the conduct of the five—Shakra, Surya, Yama, Soma and Vayu. For four months, Indra sustains the earth through his showers. Like that, the lord of the earth must nurture the world through his generosity. For eight months, Surya draws up the water through his rays. In that way, the king must collect taxes through subtle means. When it is the right time, Yama acts against both friend and foe. Like that, the king must be impartial in his treatment of the virtuous and the wicked, regardless of whether he likes them or dislikes them. The sight of the full moon fills a man with delight. Like that, when all the subjects are satisfied, the king has followed auspicious conduct.”

Full of wit and enlightenment about life, Bibek Debroy’s The Markandeya Purana is a must-read for adults and children alike.

For the Love of Coffee: Excerpt from ‘Extreme Love of Coffee’

Posted on by Penguin India

In a lush green plantation in Coorg lurks a friendly ghost with a pocket watch, a mop of grey hair and a large, white mug of steaming hot black coffee. The apparition breathes in the deliciously deep aromas of medium roasted robusta coffee wafting from his mug as he waits, in anticipation, for a conversation with one who loves coffee as much as he did.

Read on for a whiff of the magic that transports Rahul and Neha to a world of dark brews and darker grudges!

The coffee was softly sweet and refreshing. And then, slowly, they sensed the nutty aroma—of walnuts, mild but deliciously bitter. Rahul knew from his readings about coffee that such a delicate sweetness could only come from a fully ripened coffee berry that had been carefully picked and pulped on the ground under bright, clean summer sunshine. Because then the richness of the raw soil would mingle with the golden heat of the sand and soak in the sun to create this rare, luxurious and nutty taste.

The myriad tastes of coffee continued to amaze him, each one so different from the previous and each teasing the senses so delicately. He decided to use this opportunity to educate Neha, who sat nice and close by his side.

‘How do you like the old lady’s coffee, Neha? Isn’t it so beautiful? Can you taste the walnuts?’

There was no response. So, he asked her again. He turned to find Neha sprawled across the cane sofa in deep slumber. She was awake a few minutes ago. When had she fallen asleep, that too so deeply? He shook her, but she was like a log, muscles locked and eyes shut.

Then, without any warning, he felt sleep overcome him too. From far away, it penetrated his body through his eyes, swimming in like a gentle cloud. It narrowed his eyes when it came in and brought a general sense of growing calm that wasn’t there seconds ago. There was a tender but overpowering silence that it cast on him, which was impossible to counter with words, hands or legs, because they were going dead too. In this twilight zone before deep sleep, the mind has no thoughts because it goes pleasantly numb in anticipation of the rest ahead. We love sleep, don’t we?

Rahul could feel himself levitating. He saw the coffee cup on the cane table going farther and farther away, initially a sharp image, but hazy after a few seconds. It then looked like the cup was being taken away by Pooviah or by someone else with a red and white turban; it did not really matter because within a few seconds he too was deep in sleep.

He woke up almost immediately, not in Cottabetta Bungalow or his familiar room in Mumbai, but in some place that looked like a very small café. There were people around him who looked like they were Japanese, seated on low wooden tables, speaking in Japanese and drinking coffee. The entire place smelt of coffee. Neha was there too, sitting by his side, her left hand resting softly on his lap. On the wall was a beautiful painting of a monkey on a horse, with Mount Fuji in the background. A lady in a red and golden kimono came around with white coffee mugs on a lovely looking oval wooden tray.

As the bright red of her dress approached them, she spoke in highly accented English. ‘Welcome back, Rahul-san and Neha-san. Will you have your usual coffee today?’ She then bowed before them. Are we in Japan? Rahul thought.

 

‘This story has its roots in my long-time love for coffee and a somewhat recent fascination for storytelling and magic realism.’ writes Harish Bhat, author of the bestselling book Tatalog and chairman of Tata Coffee Ltd.

Will Rahul and Neha’s intense love for the aromatic brew help them find their way on their bewildering quest? Read An Extreme Love of Coffee to find out!

Story of Trauma and Survival: Excerpt from ‘First, They Erased Our Name’

Posted on by Penguin India

In First, They Erased Our Name, for the first time, a Rohingya speaks up to expose the truth behind a global humanitarian crisis. Through the eyes of a child, we learn about the historic persecution of the Rohingya people and witness the violence young Habiburahman endured throughout his life until he escaped the country in 2000.

The narrative is an intimate and personal portrayal of trauma that endures even today. Here is a glimpse into Habiburahman’s story of survival and his struggles to exist:

“The dictator U Ne Win has presided over a reign of terror in Burma for decades. In 1982, he has a new project. He is planning to redefine national identity and fabricate an enemy to fuel fear. A new law comes into force. Henceforth, to retain Burmese citizenship, you must belong to one of the 135 recognised ethnic groups, which form part of eight ‘national races’. The Rohingya are not among them. With a stroke of the pen, our ethnic group officially disappears. The announcement falls like a thunderbolt on more than a million Rohingya who live in Arakan State, our ancestral land in western Burma. The brainwashing starts. Rumours and alarm spread insidiously from village to village. From now on, the word ‘Rohingya’ is prohibited. It no longer exists. We no longer exist.

I am three years old and am effectively erased from existence. I become a foreigner to my neighbours: they believe that we are Bengali invaders who have entered their country illegally and now threaten to overrun it. They call us kalars, a pejorative term expressing scorn and disgust for dark-skinned ethnic groups. In a different time and place, under different circumstances, kalar would have meant wog or nigger. The word is like a slap in the face; it undermines us more with each passing day. An outlandish tale takes root by firesides in thatched huts across Burma. They say that because of our physical appearance we are evil ogres from a faraway land, more animal than human. This image persists, haunting the thoughts of adults and the nightmares of children.

I am three years old and will have to grow up with the hostility of others. I am already an outlaw in my own country, an outlaw in the world. I am three years old, and don’t yet know that I am stateless. A tyrant leant over my cradle and traced a destiny for me that will be hard to avoid: I will either be a fugitive or I won’t exist at all.”

Habiburahman’s First, They Erased Our Name is an urgent, moving memoir about what it feels like to be repressed in one’s own country and a refugee in others. It gives voice to the voiceless.

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