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Chai Spiced Cake? Tea Time Just Got Interesting With This Recipe

Posted on by Penguin India

From Saffron and Chocolate Macarons to Apricot and Jaggery Upside Down Cake to a Rooh Afza Layer Cake, Uparwali Chai is an original mix of classic and contemporary desserts and savouries, reinvented and infused throughout with an utterly Indian flavour.

‘The recipes in this book reflect the baking I grew up with, the hug-in-a bowl fare of mothers, grandmothers and aunts.’- Pamela Timms, Author.

Check out this recipe from the book below:

Banana Loaf Cake with Chai-spiced Icing ( Serves 6-8 people)

For me[Pamela Timms], baking is a great stress buster, and in times of need I find I gravitate towards quite specific types of recipes. I’m not looking for complicated, fancy, lavishly decorated cakes. I want something that can be made quickly from a few kitchen staples but will yield something delicious and sustaining—that will help get me back on an even keel quickly.

Banana Bread is one such recipe, a faithful and comforting standby which can be rustled up at almost any time and is the cake equivalent of someone giving you a great big hug. The chai-flavoured icing is like the hugger giving you a bunch of flowers too.

Incidentally, cakes like this are called loaf cakes because they are usually baked in a loaf-shaped tin—you could, of course, use a round cake tin and bake for about 25 minutes.

For the cake:

250 g plain flour

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

125 g soft unsalted butter

175 g soft brown sugar

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 tsp vanilla extract

400 g bananas, weighed without their skins (bananas that have gone a bit soft are ideal here)

For the chai-flavoured icing:

50 g icing sugar

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp ground cardamom

¼ tsp ground ginger

¼ tsp ground cloves

100 g soft butter

Splash of milk

You will need measuring scales, a 22 x 12 cm loaf tin and baking parchment.

  • Preheat the oven to 180°C. Line a 22 x 12 cm loaf tin with baking parchment.
  • Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt into a bowl and set aside.
  • In another bowl, cream together the butter and sugar with an electric mixer or wooden spoon until pale and fluffy.
  • Gradually mix in the eggs and vanilla extract, adding a little flour between additions to stop the mixture curdling.
  • Mash the bananas in a bowl, then stir into the mixture.
  • Finally, with a metal spoon, gently mix in the flour mixture.
  • Spoon into the lined tin and level the surface a little. Bake in the centre of the oven for about 45 minutes or until the loaf has risen, is nicely browned and a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Leave to cool.
  • To make the icing, mix the icing sugar, spices and butter until soft and fluffy. When the cake is cool, cover the top with the icing.

The cake keeps well for a couple of days.

Uparwali Chai is the ultimate teatime cookbook, with an Indian twist.  The book is available now.

8 Reasons Samra Zafar is an Inspiration to ALL Women

Posted on by Penguin India

Samra Zafar, the author of  A Good Wife, witnessed the perils of an abusive marriage early in her life. Being married at 17, when still in school, Samra longed to study in a university abroad and her husband’s family’s promises to support her aspirations soon turned out to be a trap. As soon as she got married and shifted to Canada, her controlling in-laws and abusive marriage weighed heavily on her with every passing day.

When Samra became pregnant with her second child, she made a few futile attempts at running away from the abusive household. However, the diminishing prospect of studying in a university and her father’s death made her realise that her struggle is hers to fight. Samra is an inspiration to all women battling to keep their head above the murky waters of conventional marriage.

Here are some excerpts from inspiring lessons and incidents from Samra’s fight ––

While playing cricket in school one day, a male student who was officiating took a bad call and dismissed Samra and her friends. This called for a punch in the nose by Samra. Soon she was summoned to the principal’s office…

‘When we finally exited the principal’s office, my head was bowed and my shoulders slumped. All of the satisfaction I’d felt at putting that stupid boy right was overshadowed by feelings of guilt and shame. But as we walked outside into the sunshine, my father smiled and bent his head towards mine. … I had forgotten. If fearfulness was to be resisted, so was meekness. “Way to go,” he whispered in my ear.’

Resisting the sexual passes often made at her, she learned to fight back…

‘Suddenly I felt a hand press against my bottom. I whirled around to face the man who had just caressed me. Without a thought, I slapped him across the face—hard. His mouth dropped open as he raised his hand to his burning cheek. His friends burst out laughing as my sisters and cousins gasped in surprise and delight. They had felt the man’s touch too but had been too scared to do anything.’

With the everyday struggle of living in an abusive household, her biggest learning from her husband was how not to treat people…

‘Ahmed would pick me up in the car at the end of my shift. … One day, I couldn’t wait until we got home to go to the washroom. I ducked into the toilets and got back out as soon as I could, but this tiny delay meant that other employees were already exiting into the parking lot. … Before I could even shut the door, however, Ahmed was interrogating me. “Why were others out before you? Where were you?” I tried to say something but he cut me off. “Who were you talking to? What guy were you flirting with?” “Ahmed, I just stopped to go to the washroom!” “Stop lying to me,” he came back. “You love talking with other men. You’re just a shameless whore.” ’

Samra learned that she was brave and confident to take responsible decisions…

’As I packed my suitcase, I made sure to take every bit of paper- work I had—school report cards, Aisha’s birth certificate and vaccination records, bank account information and anything else I thought I might need in the future. Slipping the papers under my folded clothes, I reminded myself not to give Ahmed any hint that I wanted to remain in Ruwais. A week’s worth of relative peace had not expelled my thoughts of escape.’

Often overcome with suicidal thoughts, Samra realized that her past shouldn’t take away her daughters’ right to pursue their goals and dreams…

‘The image of Sonia[my daughter][ hunkered down in the closet, praying for her mother’s safety, just as I had done as a girl, was shattering. Cherri was right. The only way I could prevent the girls from travelling the same road I had was to stay in their lives.’

She never let go of her dreams…

‘All the times I had walked around my bedroom, pretending that I was moving towards a university provost offering a hand and a diploma. And now it was better than I had ever imagined. As I crossed the stage, I could hear Sonia and Aisha hooting and hollering from the audience. I wished so much that they could have been joined by my mother, my sisters, my father. Papa had always said, “One day, my daughter will be a top student at a top university.” If only he could have seen his prediction come true.’


She chose to do the right thing…

 ‘I had suffered at Ahmed’s hands for nearly a decade, and yet despite the hurt and humiliation I had protected his image with my extended family and his. I had acted the good wife with all his friends. I had done what I was told. But why should I continue to pretend? Why did he deserve this kind of compassion from me? I had been told by the helpline and my counsellors that reporting abuse was important. Now I wanted to do the right thing.’

Despite the troubles that Samra was put through, she realized the power of forgiveness…

‘Through all the years of our marriage, it had been Ahmed who did the talking. I had had no voice in our relationship. But those times were truly past. I was no longer afraid, but what surprised me more, I was no longer angry. All the resentment, the hurt, the humiliation had somehow slipped away. And in its place—a peaceful confidence and the power of forgiveness.’

Even in trying times when life seemed less and less hopeful, Samra took every blow in her stride and kept resisting. Pick your copy of A Good Wife to be inspired by her struggle!

Meet Rajesh Srivastava, who Insists Happy Employees Make Happy and Loyal Customers.

Posted on by Penguin India

Here’s a fact: Treating your customers well is no longer enough. The new rule is: employees too, have to be treated as well, if not better, than the customers. Happy employees make happy customers, and happy customers tend to be loyal.

And here’s one more: You don’t need to spend money in advertising to create awareness about your product any longer. The new rule is: invest in making your product so good that it does its own marketing. New Age companies, Amazon and Flipkart, Uber and Ola, and Netflix, among others, are dismantling the old rules of business and installing new rules in their place.

Rajesh Srivastava’s new book, The New Rules of Business unfolds the mysteries of these new ways of doing business which most companies try to keep under wraps.

He says, “The rules of business have well and truly changed. The New Rules of Business will introduce you to new thoughts, ideas, tools, techniques, and frameworks which will help you come up with impactful answers to business challenges.”

But first, let’s meet the author!

Rajesh Srivastava is an alumnus of IIT Kanpur and IIM Bangalore, and has over three decades of corporate and academic experience.

~

At United Spirits (now Diageo India), he played a significant role in creating some of India’s most recognized, beloved and enduring alcohol brands that include McDowell’s Signature, Royal Challenge, Bagpiper and Blue Riband Duet.

~

He later became the president of J.K. Helen Curtis Ltd, where he re-energized the company and the deodorant category by relaunching Park Avenue deodorant as a perfume. Today, ‘perfume’ has become a generic benefit for the deodorant category.

~

Since 2008, he has directed his focus towards teaching and conducting corporate workshops. As an educator, he has taught at IIM Indore and S.P. Jain School of Global Management.

~

As a corporate trainer, he has worked with prestigious companies like Siemens India, Mercedes-Benz Research Centre and Rehance Industries, amongst others.

~

Throughout his career, his writings have appeared in various publication, including Outlook, the Telegraph, Mid-Day, Business Standard and Mint.

~

He lives in Mumbai with his wife, Shaily, and their son, Kautuk. This is his first book.

Compellingly written with several anecdotes, The New Rules of Business is a gripping book full of incredible insights. Get your copy now!

 

 

A Chat with War Photographer Maali Almeida…in the Afterlife

Posted on by Penguin India

Renegade war photographer Maali Almeida has to solve his own murder. Does that sound fun? It would be if there wasn’t so much bloody red-tape to get through. It’s also doesn’t look like anyone alive is actually missing him. Worst of all, it’s all those goddamn memories of war, constantly interrupted by the overly chatty dead folks breezing through the afterlife. Besides, he’s so busy solving his ethical dilemmas that there’s barely any time to solve a murder-even if it’s his own. 

As we meet the photographer in the afterlife in Chats with the Dead, we discover there is so much more to him than just a name. As well as to the stories of all the people who are dead and gone.

Meet (late) Maali Almeida in an excerpt below:

 

Say My Name

You want to ask the universe what everyone else wants to ask the universe. Why are we born, why do we die, why anything has to be. And all the universe has to say in reply is I don’t know arsehole stop asking. The After Life is as confusing as the Before Death, the In Between is as arbitrary as the Down There. So, we each make up stories because we’re afraid of the dark.

The wind brings your name and you follow it through air and concrete and steel. You float through a Slave Island alley and you hear the whispers in every doorway. ‘Almeida . . . Malinda . . .’ Then the wind blows through busy Dehiwela streets and you hear more voices. ‘War photographer . . . activist . . . Almeida . . . Maali . . . missing . . .’

From slave to Dehiwela in one breath, faster than a helicopter ride. At least death frees you from Galle Road traffic, Parliament Road drivers and checkpoints on every road. You ride past the faces of oblivious people ambling through Colombo’s shabby streets, the mortal brothers and sisters of the dearly departed and quickly forgotten. You are a leaf in a gale, blown by a force you can neither control nor resist.

Lankan visionary Arthur C. Clarke said thirty ghosts stand behind everyone alive, the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living. You look around you and fear the great man’s estimate might have been conservative.

Every person has a spirit crouching behind them. Some have guardians hovering above and swatting away the ghouls, the pretas, the rahu and the demons. Some have distinguished members of these latter groups standing before them, hissing idle thoughts in their faces. A few have devils squatting on their shoulders and filling their ears with bile.

Sir Arthur has spent three decades of his life on these haunted shores and is clearly a Sri Lankan. Austria convinced the world that Hitler was German and Mozart was theirs. Surely, after centuries of armed plunder, courtesy the sea pirates from London, Amsterdam and Lisbon, may we Lankans at least help ourselves to one sci-fi visionary?

At Borella junction, a woman in white walks the edge of your periphery and disappears when you focus; a demon toddler squats in a corner and hisses at the young girls waiting for buses; a clovenhoofed ghoul stands at the headlights looking for a motorcyclist to impale. It appears that too many in Colombo have died unwillingly and too few are ready to leave.

One by one, the figures look at you, each pupil a different shade, each iris with its own sheen. The angry flash greens and yellows, the lost glimmer in browns and in blues. The hungry blink in famished purple, the helpers wink in pretentious white. There are also those with red eyes and black eyeballs whose gazes you dare not meet.

Bestselling author of Chinaman, Shehan Karunatilaka is back with a darkly comedic story of life and death – with a brilliant twist. Infused with moments of staggering humanity, this one is a powerful read that exposes the plight of Sri Lanka in the aftermath of a civil war.

 

Could reforms bolster India’s financial fault lines?

Posted on by Penguin India

Upendra Kumar Sinha has contributed significantly to shaping India’s capital markets in multiple roles, including as chairman of UTI Mutual Fund and head of the Capital Markets division in the Ministry of Finance. Credited with the revival of the mutual funds industry and bringing in reforms to protect the rights of investors, Sinha has spent decades leading the financial front of the country towards growth and stability. In Going Public, he shares the landmarks on the journey of a nation striving for economic progress and prosperity.

Read on to know about  four reforms that shaped India’s financial landscape:

 

The UTI[Unit Trust of India] Act and the changing role of the government –

Even though the government had no shareholding or operational control in UTI, it was still perceived to be a government institution on account of its association with IDBI, its tax exemption schemes and other contributing factors vis-a-vis the UTI Act, 1963. The already limited role of the government was curtailed further when, in 1997, the practice of having government nominees in the trustee board of UTI was discontinued on the rationale that UTI should be run by a board of experts.

‘Thus, when the crisis developed in 2001, it came to light that the government had no mechanism for timely and first-hand knowledge. In fact, it was the stand of the government that UTI had kept it in the dark. On this, the JPC[Joint Parliamentary Committee] lamented that the government did nothing to emerge from the darkness. After the crisis, Yashwant Sinha reversed the decision over government nominees…’

 

Amendment to the SEBI[Securities and Exchange Board of India] Act in 2002

The SEBI Act, 1992 allowed the organization to demand records or information from only a limited set of entities but its powers were restricted when it came to prohibiting and investigating misconduct. A game-changing move that strengthened the position of both SEBI and investors was made in the form of the 2002 amendment in the SEBI Act which increased the power of SEBI to deal with misconduct or fraud and led to a crackdown on notorious entities.

‘SEBI could then designate one of its officers as an investigation authority who could not only demand the production of records from  “any person associated with the securities market in any manner” but also keep such documents in its custody upto six months. In case of reasonable suspicion that documents may be destroyed, SEBI was also authorized to conduct search and seizure after getting approval from a court.’

 

 Allowing reforms to allow debt to be raised from the market

In order to reduce dependence on banks it is essential to create alternative sources of funds. One way of facilitating growth is making reforms to allow debt to be raised from the market. SEBI, the RBI and the government have been continuously trying to make provisions for the same by simplifying procedures and bringing in uniformity and transparency.

‘Rules regarding credit rating agencies were made stronger and uniformity was implemented in the rating symbols. At the same time, rules about debenture trusts were tightened. Since credit rating agencies and debenture trustees are also supervised by SEBI, better coordination amongst different players in the chain could be established. The government also helped by allowing pension funds to invest in corporate bonds.’

 

Front Cover of Going Public
Going Public | U.K. Sinha

 

Entrepreneurship with Alternative investment funds (AIFs)

Across the world, a popular method of raising funds for start-ups and new generation companies is Alternative investment funds (AIFs). This unique class of investors raise money from different sources and invest in new and promising private companies based on a prediction of future growth potential. To promote this method of funding, SEBI formulated an AIF Regulation in 2012 and saw positive results.

 ‘In 2016, AIFs invested more than $16 billion in different companies. In 2018–19, the total funds invested were close to $32 billion. Now, even corporates and rich individuals are setting up funds to invest in start-ups. Many of them are also mentoring the assisted companies, besides making financial investments.’

 

 

 

‘It is not unique to India that changes in the laws governing stock exchanges and share market have been enacted only after major incidents of misconduct have taken place, and not preemptively or when these problems were still much smaller and more manageable,’ writes Sinha. However, scams and deficiencies that challenged India’s financial systems led to reforms that strengthened the economy.

 

 

The anonymous letter

Posted on by Penguin India

Celebrated writer and festival director Namita Gokhale is back with her latest novel, Jaipur Journals. This time, she offers us a diverse cast of characters whose worlds collide in the Jaipur Literature Festival: an author who receives a threatening anonymous letter, a burglar with a passion for poetry, a twelve-year-old prodigy, an American woman looking for the vanished India of her youth, a lonely writer who carries her unsubmitted manuscript everywhere with her, and a historian who reunites with a past lover.

As rich as the Festival itself, Jaipur Journals is a metafictional ode to literature. A nod to the millions of aspiring authors carrying unsubmitted manuscripts in their bags, the book is an intimate look into the pretensions and pathos of the loneliest tribe of all: the writers.

In the excerpt below, we give you a glimpse of one of these stories.

*

A volunteer with a round smooth face and dark shining eyes stepped forward to address the group. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘please excuse me, but which of you is Ms Zoya Mankotia?’

Zoya swished her mane of grey flecked hair and lifted one grey black eyebrow in interrogation. ‘You mean me?’ she asked, almost girlishly, almost coquettishly.

‘One of your fans was waiting for you—he left this card which he wanted delivered to you,’ the smooth-faced volunteer said. ‘And I must tell you, Ms Mankotia, that I too am a great fan of yours … I would love you to sign a copy of The Quilt for me.’

Front Cover of Jaipur Journals
Jaipur Journals || Namita Gokhale

She handed over a pale purple envelope, which had Zoya Mankotia’s name written with a purple marker, in a neat italic hand. Inside was a card with a photograph of a kitten wearing a purple ribbon around its neck.

The message was written in capital letters, in purple ink. It was brief and brutal. ‘Miaow Ms Mankotia!’ it said. ‘I can see through you. You faithless bich, I know what you have been up to, how many women you have betrayed. And your pathetic intellectual pretenshuns leave me speechless! And your novel, The Quilt, is a copycat version of Ismat Chughtai’s Lihaf. You plagiarizer, you pornographer . . . Your time is up.’

Zoya’s expression did not change when she read this, although the set of her jaw tightened visibly. She put the card back into the purple envelope and passed it wordlessly to Geetha Gopalan.

‘So who is this mysterious fan?’ Geetha asked in her jolly booming voice. ‘May I read it?’

Zoya nodded. Geetha Gopalan opened the envelope. ‘What on earth is this?’ she asked in surprise.

‘It is an anonymous letter,’ Zoya replied, lifting first one eyebrow, and then the other. ‘Or an anonymous card, to be accurate, a deeply critical pretty kitty card.’

‘An antediluvian troll,’ Geetha Gopalan responded. ‘What a nasty man he must be!’

‘He could be a woman,’ Shonali Sen ventured. The card had been circulated to her and Leila Nafeesi as well.

‘I can never make out if men hate women more, or women themselves,’ Zoya Mankotia said.

‘Purple is a woman’s colour, somehow,’ Geetha Gopalan observed thoughtfully.

‘Oh, don’t please get into these tired gender stereotypes,’ Zoya snapped, her voice combining weariness and anger.

Leila Nafeesi had been quiet all this while. She spread out her fingers to display her long nails, which were painted purple. She had beautiful, pale ivory hands with rings set in silver on all her fingers lapis lazuli, turquoise, jade, topaz. ‘The colour purple,’ she said. ‘By the way, I don’t believe someone with such an elegant italic handwriting doesn’t know how to spell—it’s a pose.’

*

To find out more about the letter, and to meet all the other attendees, step into Namita Gokhale’s literary world today!

Escaping the Life I Never Chose- An Excerpt from ‘A Good Wife’

Posted on by Penguin India

At fifteen, Samra Zafar had big dreams for herself. Then with almost no warning, those dreams were pulled away from her when she was suddenly married to a stranger at seventeen and had to leave behind her family in Pakistan to move to Canada.

In the years that followed she suffered her husband’s emotional and physical abuse that left her feeling isolated, humiliated and assaulted. Desperate to get out, she hatched an escape plan for herself and her two daughters.

A Good Wife tells her inspiring story.

Read an excerpt from the book below:

—

I wake to the crackling of bird calls outside my bedroom window, the anemic light of a Canadian spring morning seeping through the curtains. I lie very still, listening. The house is quiet. My in-laws are in the bedroom down the hall. My husband sleeps ten feet below me, in the den. My infant daughter slumbers peacefully beside me. At first, I’m surprised to see her. Why didn’t I put her in her crib in the room next door last night? Why is she still here with me? And then I remember. I rub a painful spot on my upper chest. My heart aches almost every morning, but today my ribs are sore as well.

As my drowsiness falls away, another feeling works its way through my body. A frayed, rippling tension, a growing brittleness: anticipation and fear. At any moment, the cold brick house will come alive, and I will be thrown together with the rest of the inhabitants. If all goes well, Ahmed will take his lunch and walk wordlessly out the front door, and I will start on a long, dull day, locked here in the house with his mother and my daughter. The hours will creep by, broken only by chores, television, empty chat.

But perhaps it won’t be dull. Yesterday was not dull. Or at least it didn’t end that way. And I have come to understand that in this new world of mine, anything other than grey monotony is scary. Anything else is dangerous.

My daughter shifts. I can hear my mother-in-law’s slippers as she begins to pad about her room. It is time for me to go in to say salaam. It is time for me to head downstairs with the baby. It is time for me to make my husband’s lunch. It is time for me to start my dreary routine.

As I rise, I realize that I am saying a little prayer. I am praying for luck. I am praying for another dull day.

Intrigued about what happens next? You will have to read  A Good Wife  to find out!

The Generous Nawab- An Excerpt from ‘Bahawalpur’

Posted on by Penguin India

In the seventy or so years since Independence, much less has been written about the Princely States which acceded to Pakistan than those that remained in India. The name of the once great State of Bahawalpur is no longer remembered among its well-mapped peers over the border in Rajasthan.

Bahwalpur by Anabel Loyd is a record of the conversations between the author and Salahuddin Abbasi who reminisces about his family and sheds light to stories of Bahawalpur’s princes from old records, letters, and the accounts of British travellers and civil servants. The following is an intriguing excerpt from the book:

—

Nawab Bahawal Khan had ruled for long enough to see his enemies fail, fall or die off. He had avoided confrontation with Ranjit Singh through judicious advice to the Sikh leader during his siege of Multan, being rewarded with gifts of an elephant and a shawl, added to several instalments of ‘friendly messages’.

 

Bahawal Khan’s most inveterate enemy, the makhdoom of Uch, died and was succeeded by his son, Makhdoom Shams ud-din and his brother who was recognized by the nawab when he rode to Uch in person to perform the ceremony of placing the ‘Turban of Recognition’ on his head. In 1808, Mountstuart Elphinstone came to Bahawalpur en route to Kabul on the exploratory journey he described  in An Account of The Kingdom of Caubul and Its Dependencies in Persia, Tartary and India.

The Treaty of Tilsit in 1807 between Napoleon and Tsar Alexander I had raised, for the first time, the fear of overland invasion of India by Russia in alliance with the French bogeyman, and the governor general, Lord Minto, sent Elphinstone to Afghanistan, with other envoys to Persia and to Ranjit Singh, to gain promises of cooperation in the event of French incursions.

It is unsurprising that Elphinstone was impressed by Bahawal Khan. He must have been impressive to have successfully maneuvered a path through the hurdles, both of the tribal enmities of his times and greater invading powers. Before ‘we enter on the narrative of the passage of an embassy from the British Government’, it is too irresistible not to digress to Shahamet Ali’s rose-tinted description of England, where the roads of London are ‘paved with stones of various colours’, the town always kept in ‘clean order’ while the suburbs ‘are said to be covered with delightful gardens and noble buildings’ and ‘it is a fixed rule with every citizen, rich or poor, to whitewash his dwelling once a year’. That cloudless image might have surprised those breathing in the Great Stink and living through the cholera pandemic of the time.

Elphinstone described Bahawal Khan when he first met him on 1 December 1808 as a ‘plain, open, pleasant man, about forty-five or fifty years of age, he had on white tunic, with small gold buttons, over which was a white mantle of a very rich and beautiful gold brocade and over it a loongee. About six of his attendants sat; the rest stood round and were all well dressed and respectable’. The following day, ‘the Khan received us in a handsome room with attic windows and ‘conversed freely on all subjects’. He ‘praised the King of Caubul’ but had never seen him and ‘please God he never would’. He was a ‘desert dweller and feared the snows of Caubul’. Instead, ‘he could live in his desert, hunt his deer, and he had no desire to follow courts’. The nawab then demonstrated the skills of his people with a ‘curious clock’ made in Bahawalpur and gave Elphinstone parting gifts of greyhounds, two horses, ‘one with gold and one with enameled trappings’ and a very beautiful matchlock ‘with a powder flask in the English fashion’.

Elphinstone added, the nawab ‘has been liberal and kind to us without over-civility or ceremony’, with ‘an appearance of sincerity in everything he said’ and had shown ‘a spirit of kindness and hospitality which could not be surpassed’. Elphinstone was astonished that, unlike other princes he had encountered, they did not have to ‘struggle against the rapacity of the Nawab’, who, on the contrary, ‘would take nothing without negotiation’ and was himself almost embarrassingly generous in his gifts, sending a profusion of sweetmeats, flour, nuts and raisins, ‘a vast number of baskets of oranges’ and, most difficult to accept, five bags of rupees to be divided amongst the servants. 

It appears the ambassador and the nawab were pleased with each other—certainly this meeting and the first treaty of friendship between Bahawalpur and the British was the start of a remarkably close friendship.

Anyone with a penchant for history and politics would definitely consider the book, Bahawalpur an insightful read, shedding light on the troubled history of Pakistan which has clouded a clear picture of it and shrouded its component parts. Give it a read tell us what you think!

 

So Many Gods! Richard Dawkins’ Quest into Faith and Spirituality

Posted on by Penguin India

Author Richard Dawkins was fifteen when he stopped believing in God. Deeply impressed by the beauty and complexity of living things, he felt certain they must have had a designer. Learning about evolution changed his mind.

In Outgrowing God, Dawkins, as a bestselling science communicator, gives young and old readers the same opportunity to rethink the big questions.

Find an excerpt from the book below, where he introduces the historic and current frameworks of god and religion within which we need to rethink questions of faith, religion, and spirituality.

 

Do you believe in God?

Which god?

Thousands of gods have been worshipped throughout the world, throughout history. Polytheists believe in lots of gods all at the same time (theos is Greek for ‘god’ and poly is Greek for ‘many’). Wotan (or Odin) was the chief god of the Vikings. Other Viking gods were Baldr (god of beauty), Thor (the thunder god with his mighty hammer) and his daughter Throd. There were goddesses like Snotra (goddess of wisdom), Frigg (goddess of motherhood) and Ran (goddess of the sea).

The ancient Greeks and Romans were also polytheistic. Their gods, like the Viking ones, were very human-like, with powerful human lusts and emotions. The twelve Greek gods and goddesses are often paired with Roman equivalents who were thought to do the same jobs, such as Zeus (Roman Jupiter), king of the gods, with his thuderbolts; Hera, his wife (Juno); Poseidon (Neptune), god of the sea; Aphrodite (Venus), goddess of love; Hermes (Mercury), messenger of the gods, who flew on winged sandals; Dionysos (Bacchus), god of wine. Of the major religions that survive today, Hinduism is also polytheistic, with thousands of gods.

Countless Greeks and Romans thought their gods were real – prayed to them, sacrificed animals to them, thanked them for good fortune and blamed them when things went wrong. How do we know those ancient people weren’t right? Why does nobody believe in Zeus any more? We can’t know for sure, but most of us are confident enough to say we are ‘atheists’ with respect to those old gods (a ‘theist’ is somebody who believes in god(s) and an ‘atheist’ – a-theist, the ‘a’ meaning ‘not’ – is someone who doesn’t). Romans at one time said the early Christians were atheists because they didn’t believe in Jupiter or Neptune or any of that crowd. Nowadays we use the word for people who don’t believe in any gods at all.

 

Outgrowing God asks pertinent and highly relevant questions on life and human connection. Concise and provocative, it is a crucial guide to thinking for yourself.

Standing By One’s Principles- An Excerpt from ‘Excellence Has No Borders’

Posted on by Penguin India

Have you ever hit a point so low where hope was your only option? Dr B.S. Ajaikumar did too. He lost twenty million dollars and he almost lost his son. He hit a point where he stopped feeling that life was worth living but what brought him back was his zeal to never give up. His innate tendency to test the limits of his mental endurance. His tenacity for his principles. His family. Himself.

Meet Dr. Ajai Kumar in Excellence Has No Borders: 

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As a young adult, I was not immune to these social upheavals. With my tendency to stand up for the underdog, my internal volcano seemed to bubble up at the slightest hint of injustice. At St John’s, I was known to be an unapologetic leftist who stood for values. I was just over sixteen years old, the youngest in my class. I do understand that sixteen years was very young to get into medical college. Fortunately, I was able to get several double promotions in my primary and middle school due to new educational rules. I used to sit in the second bench and was very nervous, since it was my first year at university. All the other students in my class were adults, street-smart and hostel boarders.

 

One incident that transpired among the hallowed portals of St John’s changed things considerably. The physics teacher had a bit of an accent and used to pronounce ‘cc’ (cubic centimetres) as ‘sheeshee’. One day, unable to control myself, I ended up covering my mouth and laughing. Face contorted with anger, the lecturer strode up to me.

 

‘Take your books and get out!’

 

I sat there in silence, without moving.

 

‘I said take your books and get out,’ he repeated.

 

Finally I found my voice. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. When I’m not guilty, I won’t go out.’

 

Anger turning to mortification, the lecturer blurted, ‘I will report you to the Father, who is the head of the department of physics!’

 

‘Please do.’ I felt strangely calm.

 

I was reported to the head of the department and summoned by the Father. This was a matter of principle for me. I was ready to stand up for it. 

 

I told the principal, ‘Father, I will not leave the classroom when I’ve done nothing wrong.’

 

I was able to hold my ground, and no action was taken against me. My older classmates began to treat me with respect after this incident. It crystallized for me the importance of standing like a rock by one’s principles. Coupled with my internal volcano of tenacity and my hunger for challenges, this gave my emerging personality multiple dimensions. I would no longer stand with my head bowed when injustice slapped me in the face. I would not take indignities lying down. I would not shy away from taking someone on when they threw down the gauntlet to me. In the coming years, it would be one or more of this triad of personality traits that would come to the fore when it came to life decisions or whenever I found myself at a crossroads.

Dr. Ajaikumar has always stood for what he believes in and has had a tactful, problem solving approach to every hurdle that has stood between him and his goals. His book reflects the strength he’s had to gather to face every hurdle that has been thrown at him.

Read more about him and his experiences in his book, Excellence Has No Borders.

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