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Category: Features

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The Secret Behind India’s Mega Growth – Uncovered in Behold the Leviathan!

Posted on by vanshika

In Behold the Leviathan: The Unusual Rise of Modern India, Saurabh Mukherjea and Nandita Rajhansa provide a gripping picture of how 1.5 billion Indians are combining to spectacular effect to create a range of social and economic outcomes which have no precedent in any emerging economy.

Read the excerpt to find out more.

Front Cover Behold The Leviathan
Behold The Leviathan || Saurabh Mukherjea, Nandita Rajhansa

 

“India Today News Desk
Maharajganj, UPDATED: Jul 10, 2024 17:13 IST
Edited By: Vadapalli Nithin Kumar (With inputs from Amitesh Tripathi)

 

Around 11 married women have gone missing from different villages in Uttar Pradesh’s Maharajganj district after receiving the first instalment of the PM Awas Gramin Yojana. One of them has allegedly eloped with her lover.

 

The government scheme provides financial assistance to poor and middle-class families in building a permanent home. The issue came to light after a man, Sanjay, reported that his wife, Suniya, was missing after she received the first tranche of Rs 40,000 of the scheme.

 

Preliminary investigation by the Block Development Officer revealed that Suniya had eloped with an unknown person, taking the Rs 40,000 installment recently released by the government…

 

Subsequently, 10 other similar cases came to light, where husbands reported their wives to be missing.

 

Suniya’s father-in-law requested the government to transfer the remaining two instalments to his son Sanjay’s account.

 

“The money was sent to our daughter-in-law’s account, and we later found out she had run away with a boy. We demand the government send the money to my son’s account,” he said…

 

However, this is not the first such incident. Previously, four women from Barabanki district ran away with their lovers on receiving Rs 50,000 as part of the scheme.” 

 

The rise of an entrepreneur from Jail Road Market, Delhi

 

Nestled in the crowded bazaar of Jail Road Market in New Delhi is a tiny shop selling colourful kurtas and pants for women, a common business in this neighborhood and in hundreds of similar markets across northern India. However, the owner of this shop and her story are anything but common. The owner is Jasmeen Kaur, creator of the now famous words ‘So beautiful, so elegant, just looking like a wow!’

 

Kaur shot to fame with this catchy phrase when Bollywood star Deepika Padukone recited it on social media and made
it famous. The rise of Instagram and social media, as well as their accessibility to millions of Indians, ensured that the phrase ‘looking like a wow’ became ‘viral’ and made Kaur a celebrity, potentially creating a pan-India—as opposed to local—market for her wares. She signifies the rise of a new India; an India where polished English and high-profile university degrees and MBAs are no longer a prerequisite for success.

 

Today India has millions of successful women entrepreneurs like Kaur. In fact, According to Bain and Co, there are approximately 15.7 million women-run enterprises in India, constituting 22 percent of the overall entrepreneurial landscape, a figure that has the potential to rise to 30 million with further support and encouragement.  For example, 500 km from Mumbai, in the buzzing industrial town of Dewas in Madhya Pradesh (with a population of approximately 2 mn),84 a mother earns a livelihood by making and selling papads on Meesho, an online marketplace for consumer goods, especially popular in tier-3 and tier-4 cities. The profits she generates from selling this humble Indian snack enables her to not only pay for her daily expenses but also for her son’s tuitions, thus making her financially independent of the men in her family.

 

Rather than being exceptions, such stories are the norm today in India. Women throughout the country are successfully launching their own businesses. According to Periodic Labour Force Survey (PLFS) data, women’s share in self-employment has been steadily rising in India, especially in rural areas, whereas men’s share in self-employment has been falling.

 

While the self-employed category is vast and includes unpaid labour too, if we go one level deeper and see the stratification within the self-employed, the rise of women entrepreneurs (rather than ‘woman unpaid’ labour) is evident. In the exhibit below, for women, the share of “self-employment by own account” (i.e. running an enterprise of one’s own) and “self-employment as an employer” (i.e. running a business in which the owner is an employee and, in addition, employs others) has increased between 2017-18 (when PLFS started) and 2022-23. It is notable, that the same trends are not visible for male workers. Even more remarkably, the share of women performing unpaid labour has gone down during this time period.

 

So, what is going on here? What are the drivers of the rapid rise in entrepreneurship among Indian women? We believe there are several forces at work here, including rising education levels among women, greater access to financing for women and greater female political participation.

 

***

 

Get your copy of Behold the Leviathan by Saurabh Mukherjea, Nandita Rajhansa on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

Ambedkar’s Legacy: A Deep Dive into His Life and Impact

Posted on by vanshika

In Iconoclast, Dr Anand Teltumbde, a distinguished public intellectual and leading authority on the Dalit movement, presents a groundbreaking biography of Dr B.R. Ambedkar.

Read the excerpt to know more.

Front Cover Iconoclast
Iconoclast || Anand Teltumbde

 

Ambedkar did not have any use of temple entry. He was convinced that if the untouchables made progress in the economic, educational and political fields, temple entry would follow automatically. On 12 February 1933, Ambedkar issued a famous statement on the temple entry Bills. In the statement, Ambedkar observed, ‘[T]he surest way for their [Untouchables’] salvation lies in higher education. higher employment and better ways of earning a living. Once they become well placed in their social life, they would become respectable; and Once they become respectable the religious outlook of the orthodox towards them is sure to undergo a change and even if this does not happen it can do no injury to their material interest.’50 He further said, ‘What is required is to purge it [Hinduism] of the doctrine of Chaturvarnya. This is the root cause of all inequality and is also the parent of the caste system and untouchability which are merely other forms of inequality. Unless it is done, the Depressed Classes will reject not only the temple entry but also the Hindu faith. For to accept the temple entry and be content with it, is to compromise with evil, and to barter away the sacredness of human personality that dwells in them.’ In response, Gandhi simply said that he was unable to agree with the statement.

 

Kamptee Congress

 

The political movement for Independence from British imperialism had picked up momentum during 1928–30. However, the Congress that led the movement was not prepared to concede the demands of the Untouchables for religious and social freedom.

 

In order to explain the developments, he organized the All India Depressed Classes Congress at Kamptee from 8 to 9 August 1930. It was widely attended by representatives of the Untouchables from different provinces of British India. He delivered a pre-printed thirty-four-page-long presidential address.52 It exhaustively dealt with issues faced by the Depressed Classes under eight sub-heads: 1) the problem of self-government in India; 2) conditions of the problem; 3) safeguards for the Depressed Classes; 4) depressed Classes and the Simon Commission; 5) Depressed classes and Swaraj; 6) Depressed Classes and Civil Disobedience; 7) Organization of the Depressed Classes; and 8) Uplift of the Depressed Classes. He posed the question—whether India could become a united self-governing community and answered it himself affirmatively. Giving examples of many countries in Europe that came into being after the close of the First World War—such as Latvia, Rumania, Lithuania, Yugoslavia, Estonia, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, etc.—each one of which had multidimensional heterogeneity of population, not unlike India, he averred, ‘. . . if the ideal is that India should be a united nation, I venture to say, self- government would be the most potent instrument for the realization of this ideal.’ He, however, cautioned that ‘if India did not recognize the hard facts of Indian society, the strings of political power will be in the hands of the ambitious members of the upper strata of Indian society drawn from the high-placed, well-educated and opulent castes, i.e., in the hands of aristocracy of wealth, education and social standing’. In this determinism, there would be no place for merit or ability as what counted was kinship. Its effect, he forewarned, was bound to put members of the smaller communities at a formidable disadvantage and might indeed shut them out from political power forever. It would be most pernicious to the Depressed Classes. Internalization of such an order of ‘the ascending scale of reverence and a descending scale of contempt’, will have a disastrous impact on their struggle for political power.

 

Ambedkar exhorted the Untouchables to prevent it by all means, consistent with their aim. Referring to the movement for Independence spearheaded by the Congress, he argued that the Depressed Classes should not be content with the ‘mere change of masters’. Referring to the ethos of the Independence movement that ‘no country is good enough to rule over another, he stressed that the proposition extends to say that no class is good enough to rule over another’. He explained his apprehension that the aristocracy could not be trusted with political power as ‘the root notions of democracy on the operation of which alone self-governing India can be safe for the masses, run counter to all the ideas which for thousands of years have formed and do form even today the common stock of their beliefs’. He castigated the aristocracy in India for its insensitivity towards fifty to sixty million Untouchables, who endured the curse and calamity unknown in any part of the world, and a similar population of aboriginals and hill tribes who are left to roam about in a nomadic and barbarous state. He therefore emphasized the scheme for the protection of minorities to be instituted in the Constitution as was done by most countries that were born after the First World War.

 

***

 

Get your copy of Iconoclast by Anand Teltumbde on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

Is Modern India Upholding Gandhi’s Vision for the Nation?

Posted on by vanshika

What happens when a bureaucrat’s untold story, a tragic chapter of India’s history, and the timeless teachings of Gandhi converge into one compelling narrative?

Read the excerpt of Thank You Gandhi to know more.

Front Cover Thank You Gandhi
Thank You Gandhi || Krishna Kumar

 

The parliamentary model rests on deference to the majority view. It is a crude notion, and that is why Gandhi disapproved of it. The idea that a numerical majority can decide things did not match his favourite totem—truth, a strange, elusive, almost funny word. It’s funny because it takes so many forms, the way a magician conjures colours in the sky. Early at school one learns to call it ‘the’ truth—as if there is just one truth whereas lies are always many. I didn’t know before entering college that when truth is under dispute, it is a lawyer’s job to establish it. As a young boy, I was attracted to law because I had read that Gandhi and Nehru were lawyers before they became political leaders. It must be a great profession, I thought, but K.’s father, who was an eminent lawyer in our district, dissuaded me from studying law. You may work hard as a lawyer, he said, but you can’t win a case if the judge has received a bribe. I was quite shocked when I first heard this, but later on when I joined the civil services, I understood why K.’s father had warned me against studying law. Soon after joining the civil services, I learnt how truth-hiding became, at times, as important as truth-seeking. As a small boy, I had seen the dead body of a dacoit, stretched out in the hockey ground of my home town. My elder sister had whispered in my ear: ‘The minister wouldn’t know . . . It’s a farmer.’ Her whisper made no sense for years; then, one day the meaning dawned on me, that liberties can be taken with the truth to impress a VIP.

 

‘Truth’ has proved to be the trickiest of all the values that Gandhi espoused for his enemies to dent or erase, but its meaning has been shifting all along. When young people today are told that Gandhi died for truth, they are puzzled. If they hear that a film is based on a true story, it is assumed that the story is real. When they watch something strange on the screen of their smartphone or television, how often do they stop to ask if it is real, I wonder. And who would they ask? They know that it might be fake, but how can anyone be sure of that? True or fake, it hardly matters so long as it is amusing. That is more important now than truth.

 

Gandhi’s idea of truth was probably different. People rarely consider it necessary to explain it, but one of my primary school teachers did. He said, ‘It meant the right way—one can call it goodness.’ That left a lot of scope for confusion, I thought, much later. If truth is goodness, can a newspaper story be true or otherwise? An account of what is going on may be real or fiction. Perhaps my primary teacher and Gandhi meant that a story is true when the object of describing something has the potential to do some good. It helps to think like that, but it doesn’t calm my present rage. My despair sits deep within me. My mind wanders. The Congress is paying for its various sins, but its vanquishers have exceeded all previous records of propagating falsehood. The ‘facts’ they flaunt about their achievements last a few weeks, mostly a few days before a lost soul challenges them. The figures given out for marking India’s economic growth and prospects were dummies. The real figures had to wait for the long election spring and summer to pass. Slogans and promises don’t sit well with truth, but the vast voting public didn’t seem to mind.

 

I am surrounded by these falsehoods—and I am not a part of the so-called social media where fakery roams free. Day in and day out, I endure the untruth. It serves as a cover for hate—the real agenda of the new regime. What the British learnt to practice bit by bit—how to dig trenches between communities—has swollen into the theatre of the grotesque. It is beamed every evening to every region of the waiting nation. It numbs and terrifies as you watch. Hating its actors and directors restores my sanity for a moment, but I can still hear myself talking as if I am deranged, to Gandhi.

 

‘Is it all right to hate some people? Will you let me hate the men in power now?’

 

‘So, you hate them . . . do you?’

 

‘Yes, but I feel you will not be pleased . . . You never hated anyone it seems. Is that true?’

 

‘I tried not to.’

 

‘I also try but I don’t succeed.’

 

‘You must ask yourself why you don’t.’

 

***

 

Get your copy of Thank You Gandhi by Krishna Kumar on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

Secrets and Betrayal – Ponniyin Selvan Continues

Posted on by vanshika

Ponniyin Selvan continues its epic tale of ambition and betrayal, beautifully translated by Gowri Ramnarayan. Don’t miss the exclusive excerpt!

Front Cover The Cyclone: Ponniyin Selvan 2
The Cyclone: Ponniyin Selvan 2 || Kalki, Gowri Ramnarayan

 

It is the twilight hour at Kodikkarai. Peace reigns on land and sea. Fishing boats and catamarans are returning to the shore. The seabirds are flying home after ranging over the coastal waters in search of prey.

 

The beach is carpeted with white sand. Beyond the sandy stretch, the wilderness spreads thick and far. No branch moves on the trees, no leaf stirs. Silence prevails everywhere. The reddening sun hastens to sink on the horizon, while still lighting up the few clouds trying to hide his crimson rays.

 

A small boat floats on the waters close to the shore. Little waves rock the boat like an infant’s cradle.

 

A young girl is seated on the boat. As soon as we set eyes on her, we are reminded of Sendan Amudan’s description of his uncle’s daughter. Yes, she has to be Poonkuzhali—the girl with the flower in her hair. True to her name, a single screw pine petal is tucked into her long black tresses cascading over her strong, chiselled shoulders. She wears a necklace of shells and conches that had been washed ashore. These adornments gain in beauty because she is wearing them.

 

Leaning lithely on the boat, Poonkuzhali begins to sing. Does the sea lull its waves to hear her song? Do the gusting breezes waft in slow motion to catch those strains? The trees in the distant woods cease rustling, while the earth and sky remain unmoving. Entranced by her song, the sun halts on the horizon unwilling to sink into the sea. Let us listen to the song as it comes floating on the breeze.

 

When the restless ocean lies tranquil,
why do inner tides seethe and churn?
When the earth is buried in slumber,
why does a cussed heart heave and burn?

 

See, how birds of the wilderness
now wing their way to their nests.
See, how the hunters and tribesmen
turn homeward for a night of rest.

 

They lie plunged in an ancient silence,
both land and sky in a swoon.
Why then is a doe-eyed woman’s heart
seized by a nameless typhoon?

 

The sea is swathed in stillness
and the breezes blow, tender and balmy.

Why then is a woman’s heart battered,
by these night gales, swirling and stormy?

 

When the restless ocean lies tranquil,
why do inner tides seethe and churn?
When the earth is buried in slumber,
why does a cussed heart heave and burn?

 

The grief in her heart remains unknown. The pain in her voice remains untold. Was the song shaped with tears? Why should her melody overwhelm us? Why does it break our hearts? Poonkuzhali ceases singing. She plies the oars until the boat reaches the shore. She skips out, drags her boat towards the catamarans heaped together on the beach and props her boat against them.

 

There! The fire has been lit on top of the lighthouse. The flames will keep burning all night to warn the ships to keep off the coast. The waters are extremely shallow all along the Kodikkarai shore. Only small boats and catamarans can land there. Large ships would be mired in the sands. And if they approached at a high speed, they could run aground and be splintered. The Kodikkarai lighthouse renders a great service to seamen.

 

In the middle of the woods on the other side, a temple spire rises above trees squat and thick. The god Kuzhagar is enshrined under it. Two hundred years before our story begins, the poet Sundarar had visited Kodikkarai, worshipped the god who dwelt in the lonely woods and sang in distress, ‘Alas! Lord! Why do you dwell in the middle of these mangrove woods, alone, with no one for company? When there are scores of sacred towns, thronged by crowds of pilgrims singing your praises, why have you chosen to remain in this dreadful forest, in utter solitude?’

 

In the wild, beside the sea
Where biting winds do sharply blow
My sinful eyes are forced to see
You standing still in solitude
Forlorn—
With none to bear you company
My Lord!

 

What’s the harm if you should dwell
In bustling towns with devotees,
Whose chants and songs and praises swell
In joyful bursts of jubilance?
But you—
Still linger in this thorny dell
Dear Lord!

 

The grief in her heart remains unknown. The pain in her voice remains untold. Was the song shaped with tears? Why should her melody overwhelm us? Why does it break our hearts?

 

Poonkuzhali ceases singing. She plies the oars until the boat reaches the shore. She skips out, drags her boat towards the catamarans heaped together on the beach and props her boat against them.

 

***

 

Get your copy of The Cyclone: Ponniyin Selvan 2 by Kalki on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

The Epic Saga You Can’t Miss – Ponniyin Selvan Is More Than Just a Film!​

Posted on by vanshika

As Sundara Chozha, emperor of the Chozha kingdom, lies unwell, powerful minister Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar plots to deny Crown Prince Aditta Karikalan the throne. Aditta sends his friend Vandiyatevan to warn the emperor and his sister Kundavai Devi. Will Vandiyatevan outsmart the conspirators, and can Kundavai protect her family? Start with Fresh Floods — don’t miss the exclusive excerpt!

Front Cover First Flood: Ponniyin Selvan 1
First Flood: Ponniyin Selvan 1 || Kalki, Gowri Ramnarayan

 

At times, a trifling incident sets off events of great significance. Such an incident occurred in Vandiyatevan’s life at that very moment.

 

Vandiyatevan had been standing by the street and watching Pazhuvettaraiyar’s retinue go by. The last few troopers happened to catch sight of his horse, standing at a little distance.

 

One of them exclaimed, ‘Dei! Look at that horse!’ A jester among them quipped, ‘First of all, make sure whether it is a horse or a donkey.’

 

‘We will,’ said another as he approached the horse and tried to mount it. Recognizing that the man was not his master, the intelligent animal bucked and shied, refusing to allow the stranger to get on its back.

 

‘Cranky beast! He will allow only a member of an ancient royal clan to mount him! In that case, Tanjavur Mutharaiyan will have to return to ride this horse!’ This wisecrack drew much laughter as the Mutharaiyan clan had been extinct for well over a century. The Chozha flag with its tiger emblem flew over Tanjavur now.

 

Another gagster interposed, ‘Tandavaraya! Make sure that he’s a real horse and not the dummy horse from the temple festival!’

 

‘Let me check it out,’ Tandavarayan retorted as he twisted the animal’s tail. The horse kicked its hind legs and galloped away.

 

‘He is running! A real horse after all!’ The men’s cries incited the horse to run faster through the crowd of pilgrims gathered for the temple festival. A stampede ensued as people tried to save themselves from being trampled under the horse’s hoofs. But a few people did get hurt as the animal ran amok in a wild frenzy.

 

All this happened in a twinkling. From the look on his face, Azhvarkadiyan guessed that the horse belonged to Vandiyatevan.

 

‘Tambi! See what the Pazhuvur louts have done! Why don’t you show them the bravado you showed me?
Vandiyatevan was roused to fury but managed to keep it under control. The Pazhuvur men were large in number. It would be folly to attack them. Nor did they wait to engage with him. They moved on, guffawing over the runaway horse.

 

Vandiyatevan followed the horse in the direction it had taken. He knew that it would come to a halt after a short sprint. But the thought impressed itself firmly on his mind that, one day, he should teach a sharp lesson to the arrogant men of Pazhuvettaraiyar’s company.

 

He found the horse standing sadly all by himself in a deserted tamarind grove. The animal neighed at him in reproach. ‘Why did you abandon me to face this trouble?’

 

Vandiyatevan led it back to the road with a comforting pat. Several voices upbraided him, ‘Why did you bring this wild horse into the crowd? It kicked so many people to the ground!’ Others tried to mollify the accusers by saying, ‘What can this young man do, or the horse for that matter, when the mishap was caused by the Pazhuvur men?’

 

Azhvarkadiyan was still waiting on the street. Vandiyatevan scowled in exasperation, thinking, ‘What a pain! Why won’t he leave me alone?’

 

‘Where are you going?’ Azhvarkadiyan asked.

 

‘I? Well, I go west, take a turn to the south, go around to the east, then move along to the southwest.’

 

‘All I want to know is, where are you spending the night?’ ‘Why do you want to know?’

 

‘I have something to do in Sambuvaraiyar’s mansion at Kadambur, in case you are planning to stay there.’

 

‘Are you a magician? How do you know I am going to the Kadambur palace?’

 

‘You don’t need magic to know that! Guests from many different places are bound for Kadambur today. Why, Pazhuvettaraiyar and his retinue are going there.’

 

‘Is that so?’ Vandiyatevan exclaimed in surprise.

 

‘Didn’t you know? The elephant, palanquin and other gifts of honour have been dispatched from the Kadambur palace to welcome Pazhuvettaraiyar.’

 

Vandiyatevan fell into a reverie. To lodge anywhere with Pazhuvettaraiyar as a fellow guest was by no means an everyday occurrence. He might even find a chance to get acquainted with the great warrior. However, he could not get over his bitterness in his encounter with the Pazhuvur troopers.

 

‘Tambi! Will you do me a favour?’ Azhvarkadiyan pleaded.

 

‘What can I do for you? I am new to these parts.’

 

‘I am not asking for anything you cannot do. Take me with you to the Kadambur palace today.’

 

‘Why? Is some Saiva to be found there with whom you can argue about whether Siva or Vishnu is the greater god?’

 

‘No. Don’t think I am interested only in wrangling. A grand dinner will be served at the Kadambur palace tonight. Various entertainments will be showcased after dinner. I want to see the kuravai koothu12 performance!’

 

***

 

Get your copy of First Flood Ponniyin Selvan 1 by Kalki  on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

Listen to the Legacy of Tata – A Walk Down Memory Lane

Posted on by vanshika

There’s nothing like the joy of immersing ourselves in a good story especially when we can listen to it on-the-go or in the comfort of our homes. This carefully curated selection of audiobooks offers a rich selection of tales that transport us to new worlds, deepen our understanding, and fill our days with inspiration and excitement. Plug in, sit back, and let these stories keep you company as we remember the Tatas and their contribution to the nation.

 

Audiobook Cover Tatalog
Tatalog || Harish Bhat

 

Tatalog presents eight riveting and hitherto untold stories about the strategic and operational challenges that Tata companies have faced over the past two decades and the forward thinking and determination that have raised the brand to new heights. From Tata Indica, the first completely Indian car; to the jewelry brand Tanishq; and Tata Finance, which survived several tribulations, Tatalog, written by a Tata insider, reveals the DNA of every Tata enterprise – a combination of being pioneering, purposive, principled, and “not perfect”.

Audiobook Cover Beyond the Last Blue Mountain
Beyond the Last Blue Mountain || R M Lala

 

“His vision made giants out of men and organizations.” A pioneer, an adventurer, a great industrialist and a caring, courageous human being…the story of J.R.D. Tata is fascinating. His biography is the tale of determination, integrity and prodigious intelligence.

Audiobook Cover The Story of Tata 1868 to 2021
The Story of Tata 1868 to 2021 || Peter Casey

 

One day, the headlines boldly declared that the chairman of the board of Tata Sons, Cyrus Mistry, had been fired. What went wrong? In this exclusive and authorized book, insiders of the Tata businesses open up to Peter Casey for the first time to tell the story. From its humble beginnings as a mercantile company to its growth as a successful yet philanthropic organization to its recent brush with Mistry, this is a book that every business-minded individual must hear.

Audiobook Cover The Learning Factory
The Learning Factory || Arun Maira

 

Founded in 1868 by Jamshetji Tata, the Tata Group symbolizes the great Indian story of hope, growth and phenomenal success.The group played the role of a nation builder in post- independent India. In The Learning Factory, Arun Maira narrates people-centric episodes that bring alive the values of the Tata Group, standards that combine the high-velocity practices as well as the old-fashioned principles that make the Tata Group the giant it is today.

Audiobook Cover The Tata Group
The Tata Group || Shashank Shah

 

With over 100 companies offering products and services across 150 countries, 700,000 employees contributing a revenue of US $100 billion, the Tata Group is India’s largest and most globalized business conglomerate. A deepdive into the Tata universe, The Tata Group brings forth hitherto lesser-known facts and insights. It also brings you face-to-face with the most intriguing business decisions and their makers. How did Tata Motors turn around Jaguar Land Rover when Ford failed to do so? Why wasn’t TCS listed during the IT boom? Why wasn’t Tata Steel’s Corus acquisition successful?

Audiobook Cover #Tata Stories
#Tata Stories || Harish Bhat

 

The Tatas have a legacy of nation-building over 150 years. Dancing across this long arc of time are thousands of beautiful, astonishing stories, many of which can inspire and provoke us, even move us to meaningful action in our own lives.#TataStories is a collection of little-known tales of individuals, events, and places from the Tata Group that have shaped the India we live in today.

Audiobook Cover Jamsetji Tata
Jamsetji Tata || Harish Bhat, R. Gopalakrishnan

 

Jamsetji Tata pioneered modern Indian industry. He has been a key catalyst in the economic growth and development of the country. In this carefully researched account, R. Gopalakrishnan and Harish Bhat provide insights into the entrepreneurial principles of Jamsetji that helped created such a successful and enduring enterprise. Interwoven with engaging real-life stories and interesting anecdotes that went into the making of India’s popular brands such as Tata Tea, Tata Motors, Titan and Tanishq, this unique account brings alive the vision of Jamsetji Tata and what we can learn from it.

 

India on the Move – Protests, Politics, and a Nation in Transition

Posted on by vanshika

When protests erupted at JNU, students found themselves labeled as “anti-nationals,” sparking a nationwide debate on patriotism. Slogans like Bharat Mata Ki Jai and Jai Shri Ram transformed from symbols of pride into charged political expressions. This book explores these events, from JNU to the farmers’ protests, unearthing the deepening divides over what it means to be truly patriotic.

Read the excerpt below for a powerful glimpse into India’s evolving identity.

Front Cover India on the Move
India on the Move || Marya Shakil, Narendra Nath Mishra

 

Time: Sometime in 2019

Place: A WhatsApp group of friends

 

Adnan: Not sure how all of you will take my comments but the political situation really worries me. Over the last five years the BJP has polarized votes to such an extent that political parties are shying away from giving tickets to Muslim candidates. I mean they feel just by doing it, it will cost them the Hindu vote bank.

 

Ahmed: You are right, the Congress, in particular, has reduced the number of tickets to Muslims due to fear that it will backfire electorally. No one is really willing to confront the BJP on its practice of exclusion of Muslims. They are afraid of being branded pro-Muslim, and therefore anti-Hindu.

 

Mohammad Sajjad: Truly. I believe this whole concept of Hindu majoritarianism is aimed at making India’s Muslims electorally irrelevant.

 

Ahmed: I think the fault also lay in the fact that the Congress looked at Muslims only as a ‘vote bank’ and did little to promote leadership within the community.

 

Mohammad Ashfaq: I don’t even think it is just a Muslim issue. I think the Congress, for one, needs to rethink its politics not just for the sake of Muslims but to salvage its own image as a party that is committed to the constitutional principles of secularism and pluralism.

 

Hasan: Whatever it is, I hope good sense prevails sooner rather than later and as a country we do not lose our pluralistic ethos.

 

* * *

 

Hobson’s Choice

‘Some sections of society have an impression that the party is inclined to certain communities or organisations. Congress policy is equal justice to everyone. But people have doubts whether that policy is being implemented or not. This doubt is created by the party’s proximity towards minority communities,’ A.K. Antony, veteran Congress leader, said.

 

After the Congress Party faced a resounding defeat in the 2014 Lok Sabha elections, being relegated to as low as forty-four seats, a review committee set up under A.K. Antony’s leadership found minority appeasement to be one of the major causes of its electoral loss. It was found that a significant section of Hindus felt that most non-BJP parties overlooked their interests and focused mainly on minorities. It didn’t help that the BJP seemed to be advancing the notion that the Congress Party and the other so-called secular parties engaged in religious pandering to secure their Muslim vote bank in the garb of secularism.

 

Post the 2014 elections, it stands to reason then that there was little talk of secularism by parties as there was the potent fear of being labelled ‘minority appeasers’. From the A.K. Antony report to the more recent Raipur Plenary of the Congress Party (the 85th plenary session of the Congress that concluded in Raipur in Chhattisgarh outlined a strategy for the 2024 Lok Sabha election) ‘how to remove the anti-Hindu tag’ has been a key focus area within the Congress. The obvious solution was to pivot to brandish their own Hindu credentials to blunt the BJP’s appeal. In the words of political activist Yogendra Yadav, ‘Secular politics faced a Hobson’s choice: it could take a “hard” line and face electoral marginalization. Or it could go for “soft Hindutva” and betray its cause.’

 

Whether it meant betraying their cause or not, most opposition parties chose the latter. While it may seem ironic that the cure for the BJP’s marginalization of the Muslims was to make the Congress more Hindu, the Congress Party’s manifesto in Madhya Pradesh in 2018 included setting up gaushalas, or cow shelters, in each of the state’s 23,000 panchayats; it also committed itself to developing the Ram Van Gaman Path, or the route that was taken by Lord Rama on his way to exile that was widely revered by Hindus.

 

Despite these sporadic efforts, the 2019 Lok Sabha polls turned out to be an encore for the BJP, with it garnering the highest-ever national vote share. According to Lokniti-CSDS’ post-poll survey for the 2019 elections, the BJP and its allies managed to secure close to 52 per cent of the Hindu votes all over India, the highest consolidation of Hindu votes nationally in three decades. Intriguingly, the oath-taking ceremony for members of Parliament to the seventeenth Lok Sabha was drowned in shouts of ‘Jai Shri Ram’; the chant particularly gaining decibels during the oath-taking of specific members of the Opposition.

 

***

 

Get your copy of India on the Move by Marya Shakil, Narendra Nath Mishra on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

 

She’s the World’s Best Ex-Girlfriend – But Wait Until You Find Out Why!

Posted on by vanshika

What if the love of your life slipped away, leaving only a quiet ache and an unfillable void? World’s Best Ex-Girlfriend explores the bittersweet pull of unresolved love as Daksh and Aanchal, after a brief spark at a wedding in Dubai, are unexpectedly thrown back together. Read the excerpt below to know more.

 

Front Cover World's Best Ex Girlfriend
World’s Best ex Girlfriend || Durjoy Datta

 

Intro Every city transforms in five years. New buildings obscure the older ones. Roads are widened. More cars spill on to the road. Dubai does that faster than any city. I pass by landmarks I recognize, but most of what I remember has been painted over, built over, broken and rebuilt. It’s a small kindness that this city no longer looks like the city that wrested everything away from me.

 

The closer I get to the Atlantis, my discomfort shifts from the city to her. The nearer I am to her, a torrent of haunting memories surges forth—the ugly words, the echoes of past arguments—and anxiety begins to seep into my very marrow. The last thing I want is to bump into that over-smart, cold, heartless person I was once in love with. Until this very moment, I didn’t realize the visceral hate I still feel for Aanchal. It feels like yesterday.

 

I feel it rattling in my bones.

 

‘Don’t stop the trip,’ I repeat to the driver as I pull out the suitcases outside the Atlantis.

 

It’s 6 p.m. so there’s still plenty of time for the cocktails function to start. I make my way in. The front desk has a long serpentine queue with tourists lugging their carry-on bags and checking if they’ve lost their passports.

 

‘I’m here to drop off Gaurav Madan’s luggage,’ I tell the lady managing the check-ins.

 

‘Do you know the room number, sir?’ she asks. I call Gaurav. And as usual, he doesn’t pick up the call.

 

‘Listen, the person’s not taking my call. Can you call their room and inform them?’

 

She looks at the line behind me and is about to protest.

 

‘They’re wedding clothes, or I wouldn’t waste your time,’ I inform her.

 

She checks the room number and makes the call. She shakes her head and puts the receiver down.

‘Sir, no answer,’ she says.

 

‘You can keep the luggage here and go check in the open area. Maybe you will find the guest there. That’s the best I can do for you.’

 

‘Perfect,’ I tell her.

 

Except that it’s not perfect. I should have been in my taxi, going away from this city, away from her. Not towards her. Not towards the reason I spent a couple of years in absolute misery. A dread fills me up. I’m going to see her. I push the thought out, just in case people are right about manifestation and the law of  attraction.

 

After wandering through the multiple corridors, I spot the cocktail venue. Vanita Weds Aditya, says the signage in an ornate flower arrangement. Vanita never struck me as someone who would get married so early, but here we are. I call Gaurav’s number again. There’s no answer. I walk towards the venue. A small part of me is commanding me to go back. Leave the suitcases at the reception and leave the city, it tells me. She’s here, the voice inside my head warns me. I can feel the air crackle with bad energy.

 

I look for someone near the stage, anyone I could pawn off the suitcases to. The stage is being given the final touches, the lights are being tested, the harried staff is running around shifting chairs, arranging flowers, testing the sound system. The wedding planners in black T-shirts bark instructions over their walkie-talkies. White people look on, watching curiously. Faint sounds of Hindi songs are in the air. I look around there’s not a single guest there. This is taking way too long.

 

Fuck it. I turn back and walk towards the reception.

 

That’s when I see her.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

For a moment, I think I have imagined her. I hope that I have imagined her. But there she is.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

In flesh and blood. All of her.

 

Aanchal fucking Madan.

 

A wave of hatred crashes upon me.

 

My biggest regret.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

The World’s Worst Girlfriend.

 

I am consumed by how much I despise her.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

It engulfs me entirely. I thought I had gotten over the hurt, but my revulsion towards her overwhelms me.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

My body sears with the heat of my loathing, it burns.

 

Aanchal Madan.

 

My first instinct is to turn away, to avoid her presence altogether, just pretend I never saw her and walk past like she doesn’t exist.

 

***

 

Get your copy of World’s Best Ex Girlfriend by Durjoy Datta on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

How General Satish Dua’s Bold Plan Turned a Militant Into a Beacon of Change!

Posted on by vanshika

Lieutenant General Satish Dua retired as the chief of Integrated Defence Staff in 2018. In A General Reminisces, he reflects upon this time, his interactions with bureaucrats and experiences about the atmosphere at the Line of Control that divides Kashmir between India and Pakistan.

Read the excerpt of this inspiring story below.

Front Cover General Reminisces
General Reminisces || Satish Dua

 

He was the firstborn in the family of Sonuallah, a humble farmer who also ran a small dhaba. Sonuallah and his wife, Raja Begum, named the boy Nazir—Arabic for administrator—and had dreams of educating him well so they could all have a secure future. But they also expanded the family with three more boys in quick succession. The income that Sounallah earned from the farm and the dhaba was not enough to make ends meet.

 

Nazir’s early years were part of a peaceful, slow-paced life. Later, he would recall three incidents that left a deep impact on his young mind.

 

The first was his Kashmiri Pandit teacher at school, Pandit Shubhan Ji, whom everyone called Boba-ji. There were hardly any Hindu students because there was practically no Hindu population in their village. But Boba-ji made a profound impact on Nazir. One day, during the holy month of Ramzan, Nazir asked him, ‘Masterji, aap roza rakhte hain [Sir, do you fast]?’ When Boba-ji answered in the negative, Nazir asked with childish bluntness, ‘Toh aap kafir hain [So you are an infidel]?’ Boba Ji smiled at his pupil and said, ‘Main Navratra ka upwaas rakhta hoon [I fast during the Hindu holy days of Navratra].’ The teacher then explained patiently how different religions had different customs. It was like using different modes of transport to reach the same destination. ‘Jab tum shahar jaate ho toh koi cycle se jaata hai, koi bus par aur koi paidal. Akhir mein sab shahar pahunch jaate hain [You could travel to the city on a bicycle, by bus or on foot. But the destination is the same].’

 

Nazir was intrigued: ‘Toh aap namaz bhi nahin padte [So, you don’t even say the customary Islamic prayers]?’ By now, a few other boys were also listening to the teacher’s explanation with interest. Boba-ji then explained to the young lads how Muslims and Hindus have co-existed in harmony in Kashmir for centuries.

 

He told them about the spirit of Kashmiriyat and how the festivals of Hinduism and Islam are celebrated by people of both religions. Kashmiriyat is the centuries-old indigenous tradition of communal harmony and religious syncretism in the Kashmir Valley. It exemplifies the joint HinduMuslim culture, festivals, language, cuisine and clothing in the Kashmir Valley. In the spirit of Kashmiriyat, festivals of Hinduism and Islam are celebrated by both faiths. It was started by SultansZain-ul-Abidin in the sixteenth century, who promoted a policy of religious tolerance. He banned the slaughter of cows to be sensitive to Hindus. He allowed the Hindus to build their temples and follow the personal law according to the Dharmashastras. Nazir’s young mind could not follow all of it, but he grasped the spirit of it. What he particularly found fascinating was the story of the Kashmiri mystic Lal Ded, in which her body turned into a mound of flowers, half of which was cremated by the Hindus and the other half buried by Muslims, and serves as an emblem of the Kashmiriyat that keeps it alive until today. As per another account, her body turned into liquid in a basin, which was cremated and buried by Hindus and Muslims, respectively, as she was revered by both faiths.

 

The second memory, again from his childhood, was from the time he was travelling to another village in the higher reaches with a friend and his family to visit a distant cousin. En route, they saw a few foreign men and women walking with backpacks. They were laughing, chatting and taking pictures with their cameras. He asked his friend about them. His friend’s father explained to both of them, ‘They are foreign tourists who have come for trekking in Kashmir.’

 

‘Why would they want to walk when they have the money to travel by bus?’ Nazir wanted to know.

 

‘Because our Kashmir is so beautiful, they don’t want the journey to end so soon.’

 

The third such incident had to do with a retired soldier in the village. Sometimes, he would recount tales from his army days to a few young boys. His descriptions of army life and soldierly activities always made for a fascinating evening for Nazir and others who sat around and listened. One day, Nazir asked him, ‘Aapne bandook chalai hai [Have you ever fired a gun]?’ The soldier replied with pride in his voice: ‘Maine teen jung mein ladai ladi hai [I’ve fought in three wars].’ Nazir was impressed, and his young mind concluded that it must be a heroic thing to be at war. He suddenly said, ‘I will also fight wars when I grow up.’ The retired fauji (soldier) laughed as he said, ‘Oh, you are very brave.’ Little did he know that this young boy would one day become the recipient of the highest medal for bravery.

 

***

 

Get your copy of General Reminisces by Lt. Gen Satish Dua on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

 

How the Most Beautiful Girl in the World Redefines Perfection!

Posted on by vanshika

Sixteen wonderful writers come together in this powerful anthology to share narratives that explore multiple themes on body positivity with the hope of helping empower teenagers navigate their modern worlds.

Read the excerpt below to explore these stories.

Front Cover Hug Yourself
Hug Yourself || Vinitha et al.

 

She crosses the gravel path and starts climbing the stairs leading to the main door of the building. Now, nudges are being exchanged, heads are turning as she walks down the corridor. Little explosions of laughter come to her ears. She sees eyes widen and jaws drop. Don’t they know that their faces give them away? These eyes-widened, jaw-dropping-in-surprise people—surely, they aren’t that dumb? She passes groups of boys and girls, giggling, sudden snorts of laughter bursting out of them. Why, it’s almost as if there’s a huge newspaper-style headline hovering over their heads, in bold letters, that says: It’s an elephant; it’s a hippo . . . no, it’s a new girl!

 

Headlines are meant to be read, which is why they are in those thick, dark letters. And that’s why no one tries to hide them. No one attempts to make them smaller . . . or less hurtful. Except at home, of course, where Amma is constantly scanning the things people say and do so that she can stop the ugly words from reaching Shalu’s ears, so that she can save her from the hurt. It’s like there’s a constant headline over Amma’s head, too. At times, it says: Keep it from Shalu! At other times, it says: What not to talk about to Shalu.

 

Shalu knows that Amma has two lists running through her head. One is a list of the things that she can tell her daughter. This one has silly, everyday things that aren’t likely to upset Shalu. On this list is also anything to do with school, studies, exams and higher education. There’s a certain logic that’s at work here, and after years of observing the grown-ups around her, Shalu now knows what that logic is.

 

Amma (and the world with her) thinks fat girls ≠ love life. And so, Amma (and the world with her) decide, fat girls = studies + books + interest in academics.

 

The other list of Amma’s has things that she tells Baba when Shalu isn’t around. On it are stories about girls who do the kinds of things that teenagers are supposed to do— partying with hordes of friends and spending the rest of the time talking to them on the phone. Exciting tales of ongoing battles with their parents about the clothes they buy and the things they do also feature here. Amma’s friends and cousins and colleagues supply her with these stories, and she laps up the details and then pours them out to Baba when he’s trying to read the newspaper.

 

Amma says none of this to Shalu, who has moved schools too often to have friends. And who, therefore, has no one to chat or go to parties with. And she says nothing at all about the boyfriends these girls begin to acquire and the ecstasy and heartache they bring. She’s doing it to protect Shalu, but surely, she can’t think her daughter is blind and stupid. After all, Shalu spends all day with boys and girls. Normal boys and normal girls. She sees the way they look at each other, eyes sliding casually before they stop at the face that’s taken their fancy. Sometimes, the eyes catch and hold, and Shalu knows then that there’ll be a new couple in the class in a few days. Those same eyes slide over her when she walks into her new classroom. But once they’ve taken in her size, they widen and jump, as if she’s the obstacle they want to avoid. And instantly, headlines appear over their heads: Is that the new girl? How much does she weigh?

 

The boys are turning away, their shoulders shaking as they laugh into their cupped hands. They slap each other’s backs on the new joke that’s walked into their lives. The girls stare at her, seeing the way the school skirt bulges out under the belt in the front and back. The uniform looks like a sack tied around her middle. They manage to see everything in that one sweep—the thickness of Shalu’s legs, the wobbly bits that hang from her arms and jiggle with every movement. They are glad to see all this. Shalu can see it in the words dancing over their heads: That’s not me! I am thinner than her!

 

They exchange glances, congratulating each other, celebrating their thinness, their extraordinary normalness. It takes them a minute more to realize what Shalu’s entry means, and when it does, Shalu sees the horrified headline that appears over them: Who will sit beside her?

 

***

 

Get your copy of Hug Yourself by  on Amazon or wherever books are sold.

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