Gopalakrishnan has been a professional manager for forty-two years. He serves as an executive director of Tata Sons Ltd and as a director on the board of Tata Power, Tata Technologies, AkzoNobel India, Castrol India and ABP Pvt. Ltd. In this book, A Biography of Innovations: From Birth to Maturity, he explores how concepts turn into ideas, which then become prototypes, models and products.
Let’s look at 5 ways in which one can keep their ideas relevant.
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Coffee Can Investing The Low Risk Road to Stupendous Wealth – An Excerpt
Most people invest in the usual assets: real estate, gold, mutual funds, fixed deposits and stock markets. It’s always the same four or five instruments. All they end up making is a measly 8 to 12 per cent per annum. What if there was another way? In Coffee Can Investing, Saurabh will show you how to go about low-risk investments that generate great returns.
Here’s an excerpt from this book.
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“The ancient Romans were used to being defeated. Like the rulers of history’s great empires, they could lose battle after battle but still win the war. An empire that cannot sustain a blow and remain standing is not really an empire.” – Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind 18 (2011)
Many historians take the view that the “greatness” of a kingdom or an empire should be measured by its longevity. How long did the empire sustain? How durable was the empire? By this measure the first great empire was arguably the Persian Empire. Founded around 550 BC, it lasted for around 200 years until Alexander the Great brought it to an end in 330 BC by defeating King Darius III. However, if longevity is the measure of a great empire, then the Roman Empire is by some distance the greatest empire that the world has ever seen. Whilst the first Roman republic, headquartered in Rome, lasted from 100 BC to 400 AD, the imperial successor to the Republic lasted for a staggering 1400 years before falling to the Ottoman Turks in 1453. So ubiquitous is the influence of this empire, the language in which we are writing this book, the legal system which underpins the contract between the publisher and the authors of this book, the mathematical concept of compounding which underpins much of this book, all of them come more or less directly from the Roman Empire!
When it comes to investing in stock markets, greatness is defined as ‘the ability of a company to grow whilst sustaining its moats over long periods of time’. This then enables such great companies to sustain superior financial performance over several decades. The Coffee Can philosophy of investing is built using the twin filters to identify great companies that have the DNA to sustain their competitive advantages over 10-20 years (or longer). This is because ‘greatness’, which the coffee can portfolio seeks, is not temporary and it is surely not a short-term phenomenon. Greatness does not change from one quarterly result to another. In fact, great companies can endure difficult economic conditions.
Their growth is not beholden to domestic or global growth – they thrive in economic down cycles as well. Great companies do not get disrupted by evolution in their customers’ preferences or competitors or operational aspects of their business. Their management teams have strategies that deliver results better than their competition can. These great companies effectively separate themselves from competition using these strategies. Over time, they learn from their mistakes and increase the distance between themselves and their competition. Often, such companies appear conservative. However, they do not confuse conservatism with complacency – these companies simply bide their time for making the right moves. These traits are common among great companies and rarely found outside great companies.
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How to Plot a Psychological Thriller; Juggi Bhasin spills the beans
Before one plots a novel, a story or in a macabre sense even a heist or a murder, one must think of the idea leading to the plot. The plot in a sense is the body but the idea is the life breath, the very soul of the thriller.
In a psychological thriller, the psychology or the innermost workings of the mind creates the idea and the ecosystem of the novel. The idea in a psychological novel is in that sense very different from horror, action or the romantic genre where a certain degree of physicality of action is required to flesh out the story.
I would even go to the extent and say that the psychological thriller is a kind of elite art form because the challenge here is to hold the reader’s attention by action that to a large extent takes place in the mind rather than the physical world. This is no easy task because we live in a day and age where there are hundreds of short and crisp distractions offered by television, cinema, the net and various other channels of entertainment and information.
The psychological thriller can only compete with these art forms if the writer is both a skilled practitioner of plot as well an astute observer of human behaviour. A psychological thriller in the hands of a skilled writer is like mining a vein full of inexhaustible precious material. The same novel in the hands of a writer who pretends to understand human behaviour is like jumping in the sea with lead weights.
So, the idea of the novel and a sharp analysis of human behaviour are good enough to get one started with the psychological thriller. The next step is to create a narrative that is sure but unusual, simple but impregnated with complex ideas and the love for thrill, probably at the end or the beginning of each chapter.
The trick in the narrative is to constantly intrigue the reader and force him to guess or speculate what will happen next.
This method is relatively simple in an action or adventure novel. But we are dealing with mind games in the psychological thriller and an abundance of action or violence or blood and gore takes the impact out of the psychological genre.
So then how to meet this challenge? There are three ways we can rise to the challenge.
We deploy in a chapter the right mix of conversation, description and imagery to build an atmosphere of intrigue, uncertainty and dread. We polish our craft to such a degree that we hold back more than what we reveal. This is the key to a great psychological thriller. We must resist excess. We have to be frugal with our analysis and hold back unnecessary display of emotion. We need to leave the reader asking for more after each chapter.
One way we achieve all this is by the usage of economy of words. Sometimes to depict complex emotion and thought processes of the mind we need not give lengthy explanations. We can simply describe mundane action. The trick is that this mundane action should be written in a way that it sets the reader on an edge.
To give an example a woman highly stressed by her husband’s behaviour goes to the kitchen and sets the kettle to boil to make some tea for herself. To convey her state of mind I would write about how she selects the tea leaves and immerses them in the boiling water. I would show a single lock of her hair carelessly clouding her face. I would depict her pinched and determined face as she moves in the kitchen soundlessly making the tea. And finally, I would show her fill a cup with tea, stir it a bit longer than necessary and then with great deliberation throw the tea in the sink and quietly walk out of the kitchen. I would not comment on the situation or speak of her state of mind. Her mundane actions in the kitchen would do the talking for me. They would convey her state of mind.
The craft of writing a psychological thriller in a sense mirrors many aspects of fine cinema. The chapter should be broken down into many scenes. Each scene should make the reader walk a tightrope. This can be achieved when the scene is shot with tension, mundane but sharp description and cutting-edge, crisp, short and pithy dialogues relevant to the scene.
Many people erroneously believe that psychological thriller writing should be in a sense arid, lifeless to convey the workings of the human mind. I disagree. I am a great believer in using imagery in narrative. Use of imagery need not be florid or over the top. It needs evoke a multiplicity of emotions. Again, to give an example we can show in a conventional image a dead body floating in the water which evokes a feeling of sadness or revulsion. But the better way would be to show a tattered shirt or a saree minus the body, floating across the water. Such an image creates doubt, horror, fear and so many different emotions.
The plotting of the psychological novel therefore incorporates myriad elements of dialogue, description and imagery but constantly our endeavour must be to hold back and keep the reader guessing.
A reviewer for my new book, Fear is the Key, commented (views available on Amazon) that long after she had read my book she kept thinking of various ‘scenes’ from the book which were almost like troubling images that refused to go away.
Without sounding immodest, I think that should be the endgame and end goal of the writer who attempts a psychological thriller. In a single word if we can get the reader somewhat disturbed and contemplative after reading the book then in a certain psychological sense we have touched some deep chords in the reader and we might have just succeeded in our endeavour of writing a book of the mind.
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Juggi Bhasin was one of the first television journalists in India. He has worked with Doordarshan News and Lok Sabha Television as a reporter and anchor. Bhasin is the creator of the popular graphic novel Agent Rana, which appears in a major national daily.
His new book, Fear is the Key will continue to give you chills long after you have read it.
The Diary of a Domestic Diva by Shilpa Shetty Kundra – Recipe Excerpt
Shilpa Shetty Kundra is a renowned film and TV actor, businesswoman, author of The Great Indian Diet, entrepreneur and health enthusiast. With Shilpa Shetty’s quick and hassle-free methods, The Diary of a Domestic Diva makes cooking good food easy. These favourites of the Shetty-Kundra household have been created to give you variety, taste and the occasional food coma.
Let’s read this recipe which will give us a peek into the world of the Domestic Diva!
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Shilpa’s Treasure Pulao
This is a simple pulao recipe that I whip up when I am struggling to decide what to cook. It pairs well with cucumber raita, dal, chicken or any other curry. It’s a permanent fixture at all occasions, arties or pujas at my house and is always appreciated by guests.
Serves: 3
Nutritional value:
768 kcal (Carbs: 53 g,
Protein: 4 g, Fats: 60 g )
3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 big onion, julienned
1 bay leaf
3 star anise
2 black cardamoms
5 cloves
1 tsp coriander powder
1 tsp cumin powder
1 tbsp garam masala
Juice of ½ lemon
1 tsp salt
½ tsp cayenne pepper
½ tsp black pepper powder
½ cup fresh corn
1 tbsp ghee
1 cup basmati rice, washed and soaked for 15minutes
2 cups water
1 veg or chicken stock cube, soaked in 4 tbsp warm water
- Heat the vegetable oil in a wok on medium heat and fry the onions till they are golden brown. Next, add the bay leaf, star anise, black cardamoms and cloves. Mix well.
- Add the powdered spices and mix for a couple of minutes till they are fragrant.
- Add the corn, making sure it is partly cooked before you add the rice. You can also steam it separately if you want to save time.
- Mix in the ghee and the rice, along with water, vegetable stock and lemon juice. Cook for 15 minutes in a pressure cooker. If you want to cook it without pressure, then add 1¾ cup water. Season well and serve hot after removing the whole spices.
Variation: Check if the vegetable cubes are low in salt. Normally, stock cubes are pre-salted, so I hunt for the low-sodium ones. You can substitute corn with green peas or chicken. Nonvegetarians can substitute the vegetable stock cubes with chicken stock cubes.
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India in Slow Motion by Mark Tully – An Excerpt
Mark Tully worked for the BBC in South Asia for 25 years and now works as a journalist in New Delhi. His books include No Full Stops In India, The Heart of India and Lives of Jesus. In India in Slow Motion, Mark Tully covers subjects as diverse as Hindu extremism, bonded child labour, Sufi mysticism, the crisis in agriculture, the persistence of political corruption and the problem of Kashmir.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book.
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On the last Sunday we met another priest who had not found change easy. When we were sitting in a pew waiting for mass to start in Old Goa’s Se Cathedral, a small, elderly but remarkably spry priest came up to us wearing not the usual white cassock but an old fashioned, tight-fitting black one with a traditional high dog-collar. He asked whether I was a Portuguese speaker and when I told him I didn’t know a word of the language he said, ‘I usually ask foreigners that because I love speaking Portuguese but I don’t get much chance nowadays.’
I asked why the exterior of his cathedral was now yellow instead of the traditional Goan white and this provoked a diatribe against the Archaeological Survey of India which had taken over responsibility from the church for the monuments of Old Goa. ‘We can’t do anything to our own cathedral now,’ he fumed, hopping from one foot to the other in his anger. ‘We even have to get permission to put up a new collection box, and what do they do to preserve the church? Nothing.’ As evidence he took me to the west end and showed me piles of rubble where the plaster was peeling from the pillars.
I had noticed that his cassock had purple piping and purple buttons so I asked, ‘Does the purple mean you are a monsignor?’
‘No. But I am Father Adolpho Joviano Castro Viegas, a canon of the cathedral and the parish priest and that is just as senior.’
Having been put straight about that, I went on to ask, ‘In the cathedral, do you keep up the old traditions of worship?’
‘Of course I try to, but what can we do? We don’t have money to pay for the choirs and all that you need for proper ritual, and the bishop doesn’t care either. The Portuguese bishop used to come here regularly with full pomp and devotion. The present one only comes about four times a year. I love the full ritual and singing, it lifts your heart.’
The peppery priest then left me to robe for the chapter mass. The vast cathedral was far from full when Father Adolpho and six other equally elderly canons entered through the south aisle. Robed in splendid green copes they walked in a solemn procession, accompanied by just one server, to the altar at the top of the chancel steps. Six of the canons including Adolpho took their seats in high backed chairs behind the altar and one stood at the altar to celebrate the mass with dignity and solemnity. He was accompanied by a small choir in the organ loft.
Looking at the magnificent gilded reredos crowned by the figure of Christ on the cross just below the white-barrelled ceiling of the sanctuary, I couldn’t help but think of the Portuguese who had built this monument to impress Goans with the majesty of a God who lived on high. I knew that the church had to change, to bring God down to earth, if it was to survive in independent India, but I also acknowledged that I came from the old tradition, the tradition Father Adolpho was preserving. I found it easier to worship God in majesty, rather than God the social worker who battles for the poor, or God the personal pal of the charismatics.
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Six things you didn’t know about author Sara Naveed
Packed with romance, drama and tragedy, Sara Naveed’s most recent book, Undying Affinity is the story of a twenty-two year old girl who falls in love with the new finance professor in her university. Her previous book is titled Our Story Ends Here. She has finished writing her third book and is currently working on a fourth.
The author, who spent most of her adolescent years in Sharjah, UAE moved back to Pakistan where she now lives with her parents and two siblings. Here are some facts you didn’t know about the author:
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In the Name of God by Ravi Subramanian – An Excerpt
Ravi Subramanian, an alumnus of IIM Bangalore, has spent two decades working his way up the ladder of power in the amazingly exciting and adrenaline-pumping world of global banks in India. Four of Ravi’s eight bestselling titles have been award winners. His latest thriller, In the Name of God, revolves around the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram that safeguards within its sacrosanct walls centuries of customs and rituals, unimaginable wealth and an unwavering calm. Until a dead body turns up in its holy pond. . . and then another.
Let’s read an excerpt from this gripping novel.
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Nirav Choksi, a name the who’s who of Mumbai had on their speed dial, designed and manufactured customized jewellery for the rich and famous all over the world. He was often referred to as the Indian Joel Arthur Rosenthal, one of the world’s most exclusive jewellers whose high-flying clientele included Elizabeth Taylor, Elle Macpherson, Kim Kardashian, Michelle Obama and even the Princess of Jordan. Nirav Choksi’s client list boasted the marquee names on the social circuit—politicians, wealthy Indian businessmen, film stars. Choksi wielded a fair bit of clout on the jewellery trade in the country. A man with both contacts and influence, he was an extremely sought-after guy in the political circuit for skills which went beyond jewellery design.
Like Rosenthal, he too made fifty to sixty pieces of jewellery a year. Connoisseurs recognized an NC piece the moment they saw it. From traditional to contemporary, he designed them all, never repeating a design. A man with a huge ego, Nirav crafted his own designs and would get very upset if a client tried to dictate to him. He was once overheard saying that he preferred international clients to Indians, not because they paid more, but because in India every woman thought she was the best designer in the world. There were times when he had refused to sell a piece of jewellery because he felt the ornament would not look good on the client—such was his pride in his craft. Every stone is a canvas and every item of jewellery is a piece of art, he would say. Advertisements and self-promotion were not Nirav’s style. According to him, ‘word of mouth’ was what helped him get and retain clients. Even his office in Zaveri Bazaar was a thousand square-foot pigeonhole in the basement of Pancharathna Complex.
Zaveri Bazaar was the nerve centre of the jewellery trade not only in Mumbai, but the whole of India. Roughly sixty per cent of India’s gold trade passed through the narrow overcrowded lanes of the bazaar. The shabby buildings lining the sides of the main road held crores of rupees worth of gold, diamonds and jewellery, all stored in lockers built into the walls of the small stores, said to be strong enough to withstand any kind of robbery attempt, earthquake or bomb blast. The Government of India’s attempts to move the diamond and jewellery trade to a snazzy new building in Bandra Kurla Complex, an upmarket suburb in Mumbai, had been met with resistance. Many jewellers, led by Nirav Choksi, were Zaveri Bazaar loyalists and unwilling to move to the government-sponsored yet privately owned BKC Diamond Bourse.
Nirav had one more office in the neighbourhood. Apart from the basement office in Pancharathna Complex, he also had a small workshop a few buildings away where his trusted and most skilled workers crafted the pieces that he so painstakingly designed.
That day, he had just stepped into his basement office when his phone rang.
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Code Name God by Mani Bhaumik; An Excerpt
Mani Lal Bhoumik is an Indian-born American physicist and writer. Enriching and inspirational, his bestseller, Code Name God: The Spiritual Odyssey of a Man of Science, strikes a perfect balance between spirituality and science to explain the deep concepts that seem to be giving shape and meaning to our lives.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book which the author terms as his personal odyssey.
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After Friedrich Nietzsche’s proclamation that God is dead, humankind seemed to sink into a slough of despair, sometimes bordering on panic, since we were fearful that we had lost all sense of direction. Sigmund Freud, the father of modern psychology, urged people to regard God as an illusion, nothing more. He said our concept of God only symbolized an infantile desire for a father figure, and we should outgrow this desire. Science should replace God, Freud decreed, explaining: “Science is not an illusion. But it would be an illusion to suppose that we could get anywhere else what it cannot give us.”
But science also proved to be a false god, and its worldview left many despondent, among them even the atheistic philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, who wrote of “the Godshaped hole in the human head” through which the Creator had been forcibly extracted. From the mind-matter dualism of Descartes to the iconoclasm of Nietzsche and Marx, from the existentialism of Sartre to the counterfeit reality of the Matrix movies, the split between man and maker has long been widening, and many acknowledged that the wedge was Science with a capital “S.” Specifi- cally, classical physics, with its mechanistic view of the cosmos, had cut God from man’s psyche, leaving in its postoperative haste an open wound of spiritual despair, tyranny, and endless war.
The truth is, both spirituality and science are essential to human beings and always have been. Strangely enough, the same scientific method that once compelled us to question the existence of God is now, by way of advanced physics and cosmology, developing evidence that tends to support our age-old belief in a transcendent power.
A sea change has occurred, though many readers of Time may not have oriented themselves yet to a quantum universe: where the same tiny particle may occupy two places at one time or react instantly to events light years away; where the net energy of the cosmos is zero, yet there is more energy in the vacuum of space than in all the stars; where physics is close to proving that material reality emerges from a common source, which I’ll refer to as the primary field. Is this the field where God has been at play all along? Can humankind tune in God’s frequency once again? I believe we can, in part by means of our own quantum leap in consciousness.
The ideas and observations I offer in the following pages surely cannot span the measure of that leap, for your own full participation is essential. Perhaps, though, my story will encourage you to take a further step on life’s greatest journey. (If you are reading this book, you’ve already embarked!)
This is the memoir of my quest for a new kind of faith. It is a faith in which mind and matter entwine, yet it is anchored in the empirical precepts of science. It is a belief system that says directed consciousness can promote spontaneous remission of a life-threatening disease, a personal quantum leap. It embraces a worldview wherein quantum leaps do occur, not just in the atomic and subatomic domain but in human existence itself— be it in the unfolding of an individual life, in a societal change, or in a country’s struggle for freedom.
I will not ask you to accept that view “on faith.” Let me offer a proof of it by way of my own life, starting at the point when I was the least certain of its meaning and value.
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If It’s Monday It Must Be Madurai by Srinath Perur – An Excerpt
Srinath Perur’s writings on travel, science and books have appeared in various national magazines. He lives in Banglore. As much about people as places, If It’s Monday It Must Be Madurai: A Conducted Tour of India is also a reflection on the nature of popular travel today marked by the packaging of experiences, the formation of tourist economies and compulsive picture-taking.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book.
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This is my first time on a conducted tour: eight days in a Tamil Nadu Tourism bus, moving south from Chennai in short hops along the coast to Kanyakumari, and back via Madurai and Trichy. Our tour guide is the industrious Mr N, who will prove ever-willing to provide unscheduled stops at places of religious significance.
I am on assignment for Outlook Traveller magazine along with photographer Jyothy Karat. She and I are by far the youngest of the twenty-one tourists on board. The rest are between fifty and sixty-five years old, many just-retired with ‘settled’ children. The bulk of our group is Telugu speaking—a few couples plus eight or ten members from a single family. There is an immediate division along linguistic lines with all the Telugu speakers forming a solid group. The outliers are Jyothy and I, a Bengali couple and an NRI woman who looks remarkably like Johnny Lever.
The men on the tour have worked in banks and public sector undertakings, one has been a headmaster. The women are mostly housewives. All this is revealed in a ‘self-introduction’ session organized by Mr N after we leave Chennai. We take turns to lurch up to the mike at the front of the coach to state—Mr N is always exact in his directions—‘name, place, what you are doing, and designation’. The men, to a man, speak for their wives. The Bengali gent delineates his identity in three crisp sentences: ‘I am from Calcutta. I am a Bengali. I am a retired government servant.’ Ms Lever says, ‘I’ve left my husband and come to tour India.’ The other women burst into applause, as eloquent a self-introduction as any. They also proceed to ignore Ms Lever for the rest of the tour.
Mr N has been a tour guide for close to twenty years, and he knows his flock eerily well. He’s brought along a stool that acts as a much-needed additional step while boarding the bus. He declares ad hoc restroom breaks that always have grateful takers. If he announces a medical shop, there are always people who’ve run out of their pills. It had struck me as odd that he specifically asked us to mention designation while introducing ourselves, but a day into the tour I’m beginning to see how much it matters. The headmaster is not simply a teacher, the Regional Manager did not just work in a bank. The official persona still lingers about the men, and travel takes the aspect of an inspection tour. ‘How was the food?’ one man asks me after lunch. I tell him I enjoyed it; what did he think of it? He grimaces and shakes his head: ‘Not up to the mark.’ Every aspect of the tour is up for comparison and assessment over the next week: food, the coach, rooms, the driving, sunsets, temples, even the gods.
In the bus I sit at a window seat near the back. The Regional Manager takes the aisle seat in front of me, reclines his backrest, and asks through the gap, ‘What do you write about?’ I tell him. ‘Economics is more interesting,’ he says, and embarks on an epic monologue. I learn, among other things, that the national savings rate is down from 23 per cent to 21 per cent and that the high point of RM’s professional life involved seeing the Allahabad GM pulled up for dozing off in a training session. I make strategic seating choices for the rest of the trip, but am cornered in various other places. One morning after breakfast RM comes up to me and points at Jyothy, who is taking pictures in the distance. ‘I have thought of a poetic name for your friend,’ he says. ‘She is Lens Lass.’
Lens Lass is less than half the age of the next youngest person on the tour (myself excepted), and realizes right on Day 1 that this tour may not have much to offer by way of fun. On the first evening of the tour we go boating in the mangroves of Pitchavaram, down the coast from Pondy. Seven of us in one rowboat, the ride is proving sedate, even somnolent, when the headmaster cries out to the boatman, ‘Slow! Slow!’ LL confesses she is feeling trapped. It doesn’t help that Ms Lever is developing a motherly crush on her, and even attempts to create a rift between us. LL is advised to be wary of me: ‘He appears to be a good person, but in this world you never know.’
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Indian Instincts by Miniya Chatterji – An Excerpt
Miniya Chatterji is a prominent intellectual and speaker, writer and businesswoman. She is the CEO of Sustain Labs Paris. She has also worked at the World Economic Forum in Geneva, Goldman Sachs in London and in the office of the President of France in Paris. Her book, Indian Instincts: Essays on Freedom and Equality in India, presents an accessible yet brilliant intellectual treatise about issues that affect Indians the most. It is a must-read for anyone who wants to know what makes an Indian.
Let’s read an excerpt from this book.
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The reasons for Indians living abroad are not too different from those of our domestic migrants who leave their homes. Many have migrated abroad for jobs. Approximately half of the total migrants are women who have followed such men after marriage, which is often arranged with a boy of the parents’ choice, just like mine nearly was. Indian migrants have moved to high-income countries, and, as of 2015, they are concentrated the most in the UAE, which is inhabited by around 3.5 million Indians, and in the US, where around two million Indians live. Overall, it is in search of a better life—emotionally, socially, financially—that we leave. The fact that India produces the largest number of migrants in the world, but hosts only about 5.2 million international migrants is an indicator of where migrants perceive the environment is conducive for a better life. The Middle East has offered migrants jobs, the United States has beckoned to them with its universities, and they’ve been attracted to the quality of life in Europe, Singapore and Hong Kong. But in the future, a change of political or economic scenarios in these countries could alter the factors that attract migrants to them. We are witnessing this already in Indian migration to the US, where President Donald Trump’s anti-immigration policies have resulted in Indian migrants hesitating to go to the United States since January 2017, and a larger number of Indians now seeming more likely to choose to live in Europe. In the medium to long term, the overall number of Indians moving out of India will not drastically reduce if the environment offered by the destination country is no longer attractive; they will find another destination. It will reduce only if the living conditions for Indians in India improve. Unless the fundamental reasons and situations— often exacerbated by economic and social inequality—that drive us out of India change, we will continue to find new destinations to move to. Also, a more equitable society for the boys and the girls of this land, and the rich and the poor, irrespective of caste and ethnicity, will offer a meritocratic platform for us to strengthen our roots here in India. The strength of our roots will determine our commitment and attachment to being an important stakeholder in India’s future. It will not matter then whether we leave or stay, because strong roots do not mean that the tree cannot have branches that reach out to the sky. Quite the contrary. Exploration and attachment are related, and in fact, the latter is a prerequisite for the former.
About five decades ago, researchers observed fifty infants in a situation that was new and not too frightening. In some cases, the infant’s mother was present, in others, she had left, and in yet others, she was replaced by a stranger. They found that exploration was greatest when the mother was present. Observation of young apes and monkeys and other studies of human infants in similar experiments since then have all supported the view that successful exploration takes place, ironically, when there is secure attachment. The establishment of attachment is an instinctual priority. When it is absent, the need for attachment is dominant and we engage in attachment-searching behaviour similar to that of a baby, who is likely to cry or seek its mother. When we are attached to our city or country of origin, attachment can be taken for granted. In this case, just as an infant would feel free to move out of its crib knowing the mother is always present, we feel more secure in leaving our home base to explore the new and often frightening world. Exploring other lands clearly does not just mean physically living elsewhere. It means being curious about and getting emotionally involved in those places. Strong roots in our home base liberate us to explore or engage more meaningfully with the world. Lacking this, we will move in large numbers but spend less time exploring, instead seeking the missing mother (land) anxiously in a place where she does not exist.
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