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A Recipe to Keep You Warm This Winter and Help You Tackle Diabetes

In Reversing Diabetes, Dr Nandita Shah provides a fresh and practical perspective on curing diabetes. She also elaborately breaks down the real cause of diabetes using scientific evidence and intelligently outlines a routine that will not just prevent the disease but also reverse it.
Here is an excerpt from the book on one of the recipes of the book, which will help you deal with diabetes.
Herbal Tea
Makes 2 cups
These are actually infusions. Here is a list of possible ingredients: lemongrass, mint leaves, tulsi leaves, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, saffron, dried apple, lemon or orange peels, liquorice, dried chamomile flowers, anise seeds (saunf ) . . . the list is endless and you can use these as single flavours or in combinations. Cinnamon is good for diabetics and it also lends a sweet taste.
Here are a few combinations:

  • Mint leaves, grated ginger, lemongrass, crushed black pepper
  • Cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, anise seeds, liquorice
  • Tulsi, ginger
  • Tulsi, ginger, turmeric
  • Saffron strands, cinnamon sticks, cardamom
  • Dried orange, cinnamon

Ingredient:
1 tablespoon of your preferred ingredient
Method:
Put 1 tablespoon of the ingredient/combination into a teapot. Pour 2 cups of boiling water into it. Wait for 5–7 minutes, strain and serve.

‘Do you think Prince Tangine likes playing Goblin Tag?’: ‘Amelia Fang and the Barbaric Ball’ — An Excerpt

When your well-known world of unicorns and rainbows turns upside down, what do you get? The deliciously spooky world of Laura Ellen Anderson’s ‘Amelia Fang and the Barbaric Ball’!
Little Amelia Fang is a vampire (don’t worry, she won’t bite you!) who has Squashy the pumpkin for her pet! And things are about to turn murkier when the spoilt Prince of Nocturnia, the town where Amelia lives, attends the ball!
Want to find out what happens next? Read on!
“THE KING’S COMING TO THE BALL?” yelled Florence, Amelia’s best friend. This was normal speaking volume for Florence, who was six-feet tall, huge and hairy from head to toe. Everything about her was BIG. Even her voice was big. But so was her heart. Which was also very hairy.
Amelia, Squashy and Florence Spudwick were sitting under the Petrified-Tree-That-Looked-Like-A-Unicorn, where they met every night before school. “THAT’S WELL EXCITING!” bellowed Florence, gobbling down a bowl of Unlucky Arms cereal. “And he’s bringing the Prince!” Amelia said excitedly. “I’ll finally have someone my own AGE to hang out with at the ball! Although I still wish you and Grimaldi could come.”
 
“S’ALL RIGHT” said Florence, putting a hairy arm around Amelia’s shoulders. “I’D SHOW EVERYONE UP WIV MY STUNNING LOOKS!” She grinned, revealing a mouthful of spiky teeth pointing in every direction. The two friends burst out laughing. Squashy bounced up and down, blowing raspberries with his tongue, before nuzzling into Amelia’s tubby for a belly rub.
“Hi, guuuuys!” came a high voice from across the graveyard. It was Grimaldi Reaperton, Amelia’s other best friend. Grimaldi was small and cute, and Death was his middle name. No, really, it was. He dealt with the deaths of small creatures, like squished toads, but when he was older he would take over from his grimpapa and deal with bigger, messier beings.
“Grimaldi!” said Amelia excitedly. “I have BIG news!” “Is it about The Great Gothic Gravestone Carve Off?” said Grimaldi. “Because I really thought that William W” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t tell me. I haven’t seen the final episode yet…” said Amelia, covering her ears.
“So what’s the news?” said Grimaldi. “THE KING’S COMING TO THE BALL…” Florence blurted out. “Wow! Nobody’s seen him in years,” said Grimaldi. “I was worried he’d died…Grimpapa keeps checking his diePhone in case he missed him. Happens sometimes.”
Suddenly, the Catacomb Academy welcome bones rattled, announcing the beginning of school. “But that’s not all,” said Amelia quickly. “Prince Tangine is coming too!”
“Maybe you’ll actually have FUN this year!” Grimaldi smiled. “I hope so,” said Amelia. “Do you think Prince Tangine likes playing Goblin Tag?”
Excerpted from Amelia Fang and the Barbaric Ball authored by Laura Ellen Anderson, published by Egmont UK Limited 2017. MRP: INR. 350 Copyright © 2017 Laura Ellen Anderson.  All Rights Reserved.

A Kingdom Destroyed Over a Magical Stepwell: ‘The Magic of the Lost Temple’ — An Excerpt

Whether it’s the concrete jungles in cities or the fresh, clean air in villages, a world of fantasy opens up if we look for one. Sudha Murty’s magical collection of stories, where little Nooni from the city goes exploring the village where her grandparents stay, opens up a pandora’s box of wonderful memories of our childhoods!
Read this excerpt of a story from ‘The Magic of the Lost Temple’, about a king, women from the moon, a stepwell and the unfortunate downfall of his kingdom.
‘Ajji, tell me a story,’ Nooni insisted once the lights were off.
‘Nooni, aren’t you tired? I’ll tell you a story tomorrow.’
‘No, Ajji, I want to hear a story now. Ever since I have come to the village, you haven’t told me even one story,’ Nooni persisted.
Ajji got up and pulled the curtains aside. It was a full moon night and the moonlight came through the window into the room. ‘It’s as if a magic lamp has been switched on,’ thought Nooni.
‘I don’t see such bright moonlight in the city or in our house, Ajji. How has the moon lit the entire bedroom?’
‘You live in an apartment. Your bedroom faces another apartment complex and all the streetlights are on in the night. Then how will you see the effect of natural light in the city? Here, we have very few streetlights and there aren’t any highrise buildings. My room faces the garden where there’s open space and windows for the light to come in easily.’
‘Ah, now I understand, Ajji! Tell me a nice story about the moonlight then. I know you have a story for every occasion,’ grinned Nooni. Ajji smiled and said, ‘Of course. What I’m about to tell you happened a thousand years ago in this very village.
‘Long, long ago, there lived a handsome king named Somanayaka. He was brave, kind, courageous and very generous. His kingdom lay in the delta between the rivers Varada and Tungabhadra. There was a thick forest around the area and many wild animals lived there. Sometimes, they would enter villages and scare the people, destroy the crops and eat the cattle. After a number of such complaints and no improvement in the situation, the king decided to hunt these wild beasts himself. Two days later, he went hunting on his horse with his soldiers by his side. Soon, he had left his soldiers far behind and lost his way.
‘The day passed and turned into late evening. The king’s horse became tired and Somanayaka
tied him to a tree and went in search of food. He collected some fruits, ate them and brought some grass back for his horse. Suddenly, he felt very sleepy. It was a full moon night and the breeze was cool and pleasant. Somanayaka noticed a flat rock behind some bushes and decided to rest. Within minutes, he was asleep. Suddenly, he was awakened by the sound of girls chatting. He opened his eyes and glanced at the sky. To his surprise, there was a ladder coming down from the moon which joined some stairs that went all the way from the moon to the Earth. A group of beautiful women were coming down the steps. They all wore white saris and pearl ornaments and carried golden pots at their waists. He squatted near the bushes and counted them—they were seven in all. He wondered what they would do next.
‘As soon as they reached the Earth, the oldest woman touched the ground with a stick and he saw the ground give way and open up. All of them slowly disappeared inside the ground. Somanayaka was not scared but he was desperate to know where they had gone. Carefully, he came out of the bushes and peeped. Then he felt a little bolder and walked towards the big hole in the ground. He was surprised to find himself looking into an enchanting stepwell!’
‘Ajji, what is a stepwell?’ Nooni asked.
‘It is a well that has steps inside so that it is easy to get to the bottom. There are many stepwells in our country. In fact, some of them are very famous. Remember that picture of the well you sent me from your trip last year to Abhaneri near Jaipur?’
‘Oh, that’s true. There was a huge well there with almost three thousand steps. Are you talking about something similar?’
‘Yes, I haven’t seen Abhaneri myself and the one that Somanayaka saw was a small stepwell. It had only twenty-one steps. But there were seven small exquisitely carved Shiva temples inside the well. Somanayaka looked down and observed the stunning carvings and pillars and the beautiful angelic women. He enjoyed seeing them play hideand-seek for some time. Then they filled their pots with water, poured it on an idol of Lord Shiva and performed a puja. The whole process took several hours. By then, the sky started getting lighter as it was daybreak and the moon started fading. Somanayaka hid behind the bushes again. Soon, the women climbed the steps and went back to the moon. The steps disappeared and the ground closed up.
‘Somanayaka sat in the bushes for a long time. Suddenly, he felt confused. Had it been real or had it all been a figment of his imagination? Did he really see the ground open up and a well underneath? He stood up and came out of the bushes. He searched everywhere for a sign of the well but with no luck. There was not a single remnant of the incident he thought he saw. “I must have been so tired that I slept off . . . and had such an elaborate dream that I thought that it was real,” he said to himself. He turned and started walking back to his horse. Suddenly he saw something sparkling on the ground—it was a broken pearl necklace. Somanayaka collected all the pearls and realized that it hadn’t been a dream after all.
‘He tried to recall if he had ever heard about a stepwell in his kingdom but nothing came to mind. By then one of his followers had traced him and come to his rescue. But Somanayaka told him, “Go back and inform everybody that I am safe. I will stay here for a few days. Give me your food ration before you leave. I know the route and I will come back on my own.”
‘The next day, he waited near the bushes again, but nothing happened. He waited for one more day and still, the women did not appear. After another uneventful day, he thought of other possibilities, “Maybe these beautiful maidens come only on full moon days.”
‘Keeping that in mind, he got on his horse and went back to the capital. He met the royal astrologer and found out the date of the next full moon night.
‘When the night came, he waited behind the bushes and this time, he was not surprised when the ladder came down from the moon. He knew the whole process by now and looked forward to the puja of Lord Shiva. Somanayaka was an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva. After the puja, he decided to take a chance and meet the maidens. Boldly, he came forward and stood near the stepwell. “Beautiful maidens, please don’t be alarmed. Here’s my pranaam  to all of you.” He folded his hands together and continued, “You have chosen our land for your worship of Lord Shiva and I am really grateful to you. I have noticed that when you go back, the ground closes on its own. May I earnestly request you not to make the well disappear? Please keep it open so that everyone can worship Lord Shiva in this beautiful ambience.”
‘The women looked up at him in fright. It was a rude shock for them to see Somanayaka there and they gathered closely together. Then the eldest maiden took the lead and said, “Who are you? Why have you been observing us without our knowledge? This stepwell was built by a great architect of the celestial heavens. It can’t be used by the selfish people of Earth.”
‘Somanayaka bowed his head and said, “My sisters, I am Somanayaka, the ruler of this land. I know that this holy stepwell couldn’t have been made by human beings. But Lord Shiva is fond of all his devotees, isn’t he? Please grant me my wish. If you have any conditions, please tell me and I will fulfill them.”
‘The maidens spoke to each other in hushed whispers. Then the eldest one said, “We are impressed by your humility and your prayer. The water here tastes like nectar. That is Earth’s specialty. Even though we live in the celestial world, the water there isn’t as tasty as what we get here. So, we come every full moon night not to take a bath or spoil the well but to just drink and enjoy ourselves.
As long as you promise me that you will not dirty the premises and that this water will be used only for drinking, we will leave it as it is. People of  your land can come and worship and take the water but before entering the stepwell they must take a bath and wash their feet. If your people do not follow the rules, the well will disappear along with your kingdom. Think about it. It is a big price to pay. Are you ready to take the risk of losing your kingdom?”
‘Somanayaka thought for a minute and said confidently, “A source of water is a source of life. I will ensure that all your conditions are taken care of.”
‘The maiden continued, “We have one more condition. On full moon nights, the temple must remain closed so that we can continue our visits here. Nobody must be allowed inside to observe us or talk to us. We want our privacy to be protected.”
‘Somanayaka agreed. He stepped forward and gave back the necklace to the maiden. He said gently, “I think this belongs to one of you.”
‘The women were very happy with his honesty. They drank the water, climbed the steps and vanished. The stepwell remained where it was.
‘Somanayaka went to the nearest water body to have a bath and then he entered the stepwell for the first time. It was much more beautiful from up close. When he reached the bottom, he cupped his hands and drank a sip of water. It was very tasty. He felt that it was better than nectar, which he had never drunk before anyway.
‘The next day, he came back to the kingdom and proclaimed, “There exists a beautiful stepwell of Lord Shiva in our kingdom. People who would like to go there and perform puja can do so but on one condition—they have to bathe and cleanse themselves before entering the stepwell. The water there will be used for no other purpose except for drinking. Everyone can carry away one pot of water and no more. These rules are to be strictly followed and there will be no exceptions. The temple will remain closed on full moon nights and nobody will be allowed inside.”
‘Somanayaka wanted to make his people comfortable so he ensured that there was another water body for them near the stepwell. There, people could bathe, change their clothes and then enter the stepwell. The news spread like wildfire. People came from all over the kingdom to see the architectural masterpiece and pay their respects to Lord Shiva. The well remained open on all days except on full moon nights.
‘Days passed and word spread. People started coming from far and wide and from different lands. A small tourist spot was set up near the stepwell and named Somanahalli.
‘Despite the increase in the number of visitors, the well was kept clean and guards monitored the premises around the clock.
‘After some years, Somanayaka married a lovely lady—Queen Ratnavati. She was beautiful and courageous but headstrong. Somanayaka told her about the way the well had been discovered and how the celestial maidens had agreed to his request. Ratnavati wanted to know whether the maidens were more beautiful than her or not but she knew that she would never get a chance to meet them because they came only on full moon nights when no one was allowed inside the temple.
‘One day, the king had to go to an important event in the neighbouring kingdom. Ratnavati told her husband, “I am not feeling very well. I think that I will stay back in the palace.”
‘The naive king believed her and departed for the event. As soon as he left, Ratnavati called for her chariot and headed towards the stepwell. She thought to herself, “I am the queen of this land. Every inch of it belongs to me. So what if the well is a gift of the maidens? The well exists on my land and I am the legal owner. My husband doesn’t want to take a risk and obeys those maidens’ words without question. I want to show him that nothing will happen if we break their rules.”
‘When the charioteers reached Somanahalli, the officers stopped her and requested, “O Queen. Please don’t visit the temple today. It is a full moon night and as per the government rules, no one is allowed to go inside. Why don’t you stay in the guest house tonight? You can visit the well tomorrow.”
‘Ratnavati did not listen to them. “How dare you stop me? I am the queen. Everything is under my control.” ‘Without another word, she barged into the stepwell. Since it was a full moon night, the entire complex was shining like silver. The water was shimmering and looked irresistible. She went into the water to bathe. Suddenly, she heard a noise. When she turned, she saw seven women standing on the steps. Though her heart told her that they were more beautiful than her, her ego did not allow her to accept the truth. When the maidens saw Queen Ratnavati in the water, they became upset. “Who are you? How dare you  come here today? Has King Somanayaka forgotten  our conditions?”
‘Arrogantly, Ratnavati replied, “I am his queen. This land belongs to us and I make the rules—you can come the day I want you to visit. You can’t tell me when I can and can’t come here. The water here is the way it is because of the Earth and not because of anything you did.”
‘“Who are you to talk to us like this? You have not only disobeyed our rules but you have also dirtied the water. Once someone has bathed in this water, no one can drink it again.”
‘The women turned to leave. While going up the steps back to the moon, the eldest maiden said, “Rani Ratnavati, you are going to regret this.”
‘They climbed the ladder and vanished. Queen Ratnavati tried to get out of the water to go behind them and talk to them but all her efforts were in vain.
‘Suddenly, there was thunder and lightning, followed by a huge gust of wind and rain. Ratnavati quickly climbed up the steps of the well. The earth quaked and within a few seconds, the well closed.
‘The queen was scared. She had been warned of the consequences—she was going to lose her kingdom! She cried to herself and said, “I should not have done this. I have polluted the water and disobeyed my husband. I have destroyed my kingdom because of my arrogance.”
‘Somanayaka never came back from his travel and Ratnavati went mad crying in the streets. After a few days, nobody heard from her again. The kingdom was eventually abandoned. It was sad that the queen, who should have been the protector of her kingdom, had destroyed a precious water source, disobeyed royal orders, broke a promise and caused such a catastrophe.
‘People say that our village, Somanahalli, is near the location of the stepwell. This story has been passed down from generation to generation but no one has actually seen the well.’
Ajji finished the story. Nooni looked at the moon with sleepy eyes, waiting for the maidens to appear.
More such enchanting stories await you and your little one with Sudha Murty’s ‘The Magic of the Lost Temple’.
And don’t forget to pre-order our favourite storyteller’s newest collection of magical stories!

 

The Beginning of an Adventure Like No Other: ‘Lost in Time: Ghatotkacha and the Game of Illusions’ — An Excerpt

We all love going on trips as soon as holiday season kicks in, don’t we? But have you ever been on a journey that ended with you travelling to another plane of reality, maybe one from the books you’ve read? Sounds impossible, doesn’t it?
Well what if we told you this happened?
Get ready for the gripping story of young Chintamani Dev Gupta who while on a birding camp is magically transported to an unknown world of improbable creatures. Things get stranger still when he meets the master of illusions, Ghatotkacha and his mother, the demoness Hidimba.  
Read on to know what happens next!
I am Chintamani Dev Gupta, male, 4’11”, thirteen years of age. Almost fourteen. It won’t surprise anyone to know that my name was, at an early and vulnerable age, shortened to Chintu, then mutated to Chintu Pintu. It’s ignominy to have a name like Chintu Pintu, but it’s a cross I’ve learnt to bear. I feel like telling them—the sneerers—‘Man, you don’t know where I’ve been, you don’t know what I’ve seen!’
The story that will unfold in these pages has been recorded with all the memory megabytes at my disposal, but when you— one—me—travel through time, across time, the grey cells tend to seize up and short-circuit in transit.
But let me begin at the beginning. If there ever is a beginning, if time follows a straight line, follows a predictable geometrical pattern in its unfolding. Which I happen to know, from my incredible personal experiences, it does not.
Those of you (possibly in the minority) who have read Carl Sagan’s book Contact might appreciate wormholes and the ways to fool or get fooled by time. Whereas those of you (more hands up this time maybe) who are fans of Terry Pratchett, might remember that he said, ‘Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one.’
But I’ve nattered on enough. Let’s get to the flashback with Chintamani Dev Gupta (aka Chintu Pintu) off on an enforced holiday to the Sat Tal Birding camp. I remember it as though it were yesterday. My parents had just split up, even though they continued to be holed up in the same house. Mum’s lady lawyer practically camped on our living room sofa. Papa hadn’t shaved for several days. Things were bad. And to get me out of the way, I had been dispatched here, to an insect-infested field near the aforementioned Sat Tal Lake.
It’s not as though I was wildly interested in birds. I suspect it was just the most convenient way to pack me off, dumping me in ornithology heaven. So there I was, amidst the tweets and the cheeps and the trills and twitters of birdsong, dreaming of football and butter chicken and the joys of home.
Can’t wait to find out more? Don’t forget to be the first one to grab your copy of this magical tale of time-travel, unusual friendships and a whole lot of adventure!

‘The Tale of the Turban’: ‘Junior Lives: Mahatma Gandhi’ — An Excerpt

Mahatma Gandhi’s journey is inspirational for reasons one and many. His struggle to lead India to independence did not only happen on home ground in India, it went far beyond that, all the way to South Africa.
In this excerpt from Sonia Mehta’s Junior Lives: Mahatma Gandhi, we catch a glimpse of the man with his principles and values holding steadfast even during an hour of crisis.
Was GandhiJi’s time in Durban a good one? Let’s find out!

Amazing, isn’t it? To share the lesser known story of the Father of our Nation with your child, grab a copy of the book today!

‘I will tell the king there are no supermen in this village’: ‘The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories’ — An Excerpt

‘I will tell the king there are no supermen in this village’: ‘The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories’ — An Excerpt
We learned our first stories much before we learned to read. Our parents and grandparents sat us on their laps and took us to wondrous lands of kind kinds and clever, talking animals who taught a valuable lesson silently.
A brilliant collection of such beautiful, heartwarming stories by Sudha Murty that she grew up on as a child, ‘The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories’ is sure to take you down nostalgia lane and fascinate your child on a warm, lazy afternoon.

Here’s a snippet from the book about men from a small village who thought they could outsmart everyone else!

The Supermen
The men of Suvarnanagari were very lazy. They only liked to gossip and tell each other tall tales. As soon as the sun rose, the men would tuck into a hearty breakfast and start gathering in groups. Then they would spend the rest of the day telling each other impossible stories. They came back home only at lunch and dinner time.
Suvarnanagari had fertile land all around it, and if the men had spent even a little time in the fields, they would have reaped wonderful crops. But as they did nothing, all responsibilities ended up on the shoulders of the women, who had to slave the whole day. They cooked, cleaned, sent the children to school, worked in the fields, took the crops to the market—in short, they did everything. One day, the tired women got together and decided the men needed to be taught a lesson. Someone suggested writing to the king, who was known to be just and kind, about their problem. So a letter was written and sent off. The women went back to their work, but kept a sharp lookout to see if the king would send any help. But many days passed, and slowly the women began to lose hope. After all, why would the king of such a vast empire be concerned about the plight of a few women in a tiny village like theirs?
A month passed by and soon it was a full-moon night. The men ate their dinners and, because it was so beautiful and well-lit outside, they gathered again to chat and boast. That night, they were trying to prove to one another that they were capable of performing the most impossible tasks. As they sat talking, and the stories flew around, a tall and handsome stranger joined them. Seeing his noble features and intelligent eyes, each man wanted to prove himself better than the others and impress him.
One said, ‘I knew the map of our kingdom even before I left my mother’s womb. As soon as I was born, I ran to the capital and met the king. My mother had such trouble bringing me back home!’
Everyone was impressed with this story. But not to be outdone, a second man said, ‘So what is so great about that? When I was just a day old, I could ride a horse. I sat on a big horse and rode all the way to the king’s palace. He received me with a lot of love and we had the most delicious breakfast together.’ At the thought of food, everyone got dreamy-eyed and the story was greeted with a round of applause.
Now a third man said, ‘Huh! That’s nothing. I sat on an elephant when I was a week old and had lunch with the king in his palace.’
Before the admiring murmurs could die down, a fourth one said, ‘I was a month old when I flew like a bird and landed in the king’s garden. He picked me up lovingly and even let me sit with him on his throne.’
While everyone seemed to be awed by these stories, the stranger spoke up. ‘Do you four men know the king very well?’
‘Of course we do!’ they replied together. ‘Our king knows and loves us. In fact, he is proud to have supernatural beings like us in his kingdom.’
The stranger looked thoughtful. ‘That makes my task so much easier . . . You see, I work in the king’s court. Some time back, the king had called four supermen to the city in order to repair a large hole in the city walls. As you know, we use the largest, toughest stones for building these walls, and they could be lifted and put in place only by these supermen. The four asked to be paid in gold bars and the king gave them the money. But that night itself they disappeared from the palace. I have been wandering the kingdom ever since, looking for them. The king has ordered me to find the four men and bring them back to the capital to finish the work. They will also have to return the gold they ran away with. It looks like my search has finally ended. I will take you four to the king, along with the gold you stole from him . . . And I shall be the rich one now.’
By the time the stranger finished telling this amazing story, the men’s faces had turned ashen. What trouble had their lies landed them in? Together they dived at the stranger’s feet.
‘Save us!’ they wailed. ‘Those were all lies. We are just a bunch of lazy men. If you forget our stories, we promise to stop telling lies and do some honest work.’
The stranger smiled. ‘So be it. I will tell the king there are no supermen in this village. Only hardworking, ordinary men and women.’
That night itself he left the village, and the women were sure they saw a happy twinkle in his eyes as he rode away on a handsome, white horse, fit to belong to the king’s stables!
While you keep digging up more from your childhood’s collection, grab a copy of this fascinating book!
And while you’re at it, don’t forget to pre-order a copy of the master storyteller’s newest book soon to hit bookstores!

Making of a CEO, An Excerpt

Sandeep Krishnan is an adjunct professor at IIM Bangalore. His book ‘Making of a CEO’ found its genesis in a popular course he taught at IIM Bangalore, where the students interviewed and analyzed twenty CEOs to learn how they charted a clear path to the top. The book explores nuances of leading in different contexts like start-ups, large corporations, family businesses, educational institutions, not-for-profits, public sector and the government.
Here’s an excerpt from the book.
The chief executive officer (CEO) epitomizes the organization. The organization’s existence and its future are defined by the role the CEO plays. The CEO is the ultimate decision maker and can often be defined as a combination of a chief operations, marketing, finance, people and communications officer apart from the other key roles. The success or failure of the organization is often directly attributed to the CEO. At one level, the CEO is also the chief decision officer.
Great CEOs leave their footprints behind. They have the ability to transform businesses and even change the way society operates. Bill Gates changed the way the world works with Microsoft. Steve Jobs changed the way the world designs gadgets with Apple. N.R. Narayana Murthy of Infosys paved the way and showed how corporations can share their wealth with employees in India. Dhirubhai Ambani, founder of Reliance, showed how an entrepreneur can start from scratch to create an empire. Larry Page and Sergey Brin, co-founders of Google, changed the way the world searches for information. It is amply clear that every CEO has a unique opportunity to leave behind an enduring legacy.
In this book, the word CEO is sometimes used synonymously with positions such as managing director and chairman if the incumbent is also, in many ways, handling the operating role of running the company. Research shows that the role of a CEO is becoming more significant and often has a more direct impact on the company’s performance. With the environment of organizations becoming more dynamic and competitive, it is the top management’s strategy led by the CEO that can steer the company towards sustained growth. A CEO also shapes the culture of the organization—either sustaining or changing it. An interesting example of this would be of the ex-chairman of IBM, Louis V. Gerstner, who is credited for its turnaround. Gerstner revived the ailing IBM by pulling the levers of its culture, changing the attitude towards teamwork, providing solution to the customers, integrating different business units, changing the measurement of results, and improving communication with external and internal stakeholders. In the end, it is a well-known fact that Gerstner got IBM to dance!
There are leaders in corporates, NGOs, government and public sectors who have made a tremendous impact. There are great examples of public servants heading government enterprises and making a lasting impact on society. In India, E. Sreedharan illustrated how a government servant can influence society by high levels of effectiveness. He is credited with the successful execution of key projects that helped the Indian public. This includes the Konkan Railway, a 741-kilometre line that connected Mumbai to Mangaluru. As per Wikipedia, ‘With a total number of over 2,000 bridges and 91 tunnels to be built through this mountainous terrain containing many rivers, it was the biggest and perhaps the most difficult railway engineering project in the Indian subcontinent at the time.’ He was then entrusted with another key project: to develop the metro lines for urban transport in the National Capital Region (NCR), called the Delhi Metro. The success of the project gave E. Sreedharan a new name: ‘Metro Man’. The ability to lead and make a difference in the society has made E. Sreedharan one of the most successful CEOs that India has seen in the recent past.
Verghese Kurien, known as the Father of the White Revolution, made a tremendous mark on the cooperative movement in the country. He is credited with establishing Amul and the National Dairy Development Board (NDDB). Kurien was able to bring dairy farmers into the fold, changing the dairy supply chain of the country. His ability to organize the cooperative movement, first in Gujarat through Amul and then later to replicate the experiment across the country through NDDB, points to a leader who could articulate a vision and execute it to make a large-scale institution.

Addressing Nellie, An Excerpt from Derek O’Brien’s Essay in ‘Left, Right, and Centre’

Nidhi Razdan’s ‘Left, Right and Centre: The Idea of India’ celebrates the diverse cultural and political terrains that India comprises of. The book is a collection of essays from distinguished voices from various walks of life, upholding aspects of the nation lesser explored, and even lesser heard of.
In Derek O’Brien’s essay, ‘Addressing Nellie’, the politician and television personality revisits the memories of his grandmother and his ancestors who had been through the horrors of the Partition. As a part of the Anglo-Indian community, O’Brien brings forth the voices of those who have rarely been spoken about in the popular discourse of the subcontinent’s traumatic history.
Here’s an excerpt from his essay.
Each year, on 15 August, I find myself thinking of my great grandmother—my father’s paternal grandmother. Nellie Bella Biswas, as she was named when born to a Bengali-Christian family with homes in Jalpaiguri in north Bengal and Maniktala in north Kolkata, formed part of my earliest memories. She died in 1969, when I was just a schoolboy. Even by then she had come to represent an influential figure for me—the familiar matriarch, caring but firm, who taught the three of us, my brothers and me, to speak Bengali.
To my young mind, Nellie Bella Biswas—or Nellie Bella O’Brien as she became on marrying the descendant of an Irish settler in India—symbolized history. She was a walking, talking monument of history. To my innocent eyes, she seemed to stand for Mother India: a venerable and iconic figure who shed a silent tear in August 1947 as one country became two nations, and a composite society was split forever.
Nellie cried in August 1947, she cried every day from 1947 to 1969. She cried for the line in the sand that Partition drew. She cried for Patrick, her firstborn, her beloved son, who stayed on in Lahore . . .
For obvious reasons, the narrative of Partition has been written in terms of the subcontinent’s Hindus and Muslims. Christians have had only a small role in this drama. Anglo Indians—the community I belong to and which makes up a minuscule section of India’s Christians—have not even had a walk-on part.
Yet Partition had a dramatic impact on my extended family. My paternal grandfather, Amos, was one of the three brothers. The eldest of them, Patrick, was a civil servant who worked in Lahore and Peshawar, and served as a private secretary to Sir Olaf Caroe and later Sir George Cunningham, governors of the North-West Frontier Province in the tumultuous days leading up to August 1947. Much of the rest of the family, including my father and grandfather, were in Kolkata (or Calcutta, as it was then called).
One day, without quite realizing the implications, these members of the O’Brien family became citizens of separate countries. Patrick, the brother who had stayed on in Pakistan, had a large family. Two of his daughters were married to fighter pilots of what was at the time the Royal Indian Air Force. In 1947, they were either alotted or chose different nations.
Within months India and Pakistan were at war. It was a conflict that tore apart my father’s cousins, daughters of Patrick. One of them was with her father in Pakistan. Her husband was a fighter pilot in the Pakistan Air Force, her sister’s husband a fighter pilot in the Indian Air Force.
Night after night she stayed up, wondering if her husband would come home or if her brother-in-law in India was safe, or if these two men so dear to her, comrades and friends in the same air force till only a few weeks earlier, would aim for each other in the eerie anonymity of the skies. Her sister in India went through the same trauma. Patrick comforted his daughter. In another country, Nellie comforted her granddaughter.
Thankfully, neither man died in that war, but a distance emerged. Father and daughter, sister and sister, cousin and cousin, my Indian grandfather and his Pakistani brother—they lost touch with each other.

Through the Past into the Future, An Excerpt from Yashwant Sinha’s Essay in ‘Left, Right, and Centre’

India’s magnificent plurality can not be contained in a homogenous sentence that favours only one side of the scale. Taking up this monumental challenge is Nidhi Razdan’s ‘Left, Right and Centre: The Idea of India’ that celebrates every aspect of the country, since its Independence 70 years ago.
In his essay ‘Through the Past into the Future’, Former Finance Minister, Yashwant Sinha, talks about the way forward despite all the major roadblocks a country of teeming billions faces every day. In spite of the many governments India has seen since its Independence, and in spite of all that it has achieved, Sinha highlights the pressing concerns that still keep the nation from being the superpower it deserves to be.
Here’s an excerpt from his essay.
It is debatable whether India has achieved all it should have in the seventy years since independence. On the one hand, we have sent the Mangalyaan to explore the planet Mars. Our space agency is capable of launching more than a 100 satellites together. We lead the rest of the world in information technology. Yet, there are hundreds if not thousands of villages which lack the basic amenities of life like an all-weather road, potable drinking water, proper sanitation and health facilities or proper schools. Unemployment continues to be a major problem.
Every government claims to have done its best to solve these problems yet they refuse to go away. Governments are always short on resources; the tax base does not expand despite inspector raj. Only the poor and the innocent are caught and the rich and famous get away. Millions of cases are pending in courts, the jails are full of undertrial prisoners, many of them having spent the maximum jail term which their crime may have merited. There are many ills from which we suffer today. We have miles to go before we rest. But what is the goal that we must set for ourselves for the remaining decades of this century and what are the means by which we can achieve it?
India must strive to reach the top of the league of nations— the top two or three in the world. That is our destiny and we must fulfil it. To arrive there, we must eradicate the bane of poverty, misery and deprivation in our society at the soonest. It is not difficult to achieve this goal.
Our two-pronged strategy should consist of high and sustained economic growth of around 8 per cent per annum for the next twenty years or so and a direct attack on poverty and deprivation. In an uncertain global scenario where globalization is on the retreat and economic nationalism is coming to the fore, we must depend on our own demand, our own resources and our own people to achieve the desired growth rate.
We have massive unmet demand in our economy. Our country is crying out for modern infrastructure. We must build lakhs of kilometres of roads of all kinds, national highways, state highways and rural roads, to connect our country and its people. We need irrigation works especially of the medium and the minor kind to irrigate our still-parched fields. We need all kinds of power, renewable and thermal, to light up our homes, irrigate our fields and run our factories. We need new towns and cities to provide for the population migrating from the rural areas into modern urban centres and to relieve the pressure on farmland and the villages, as well as the existing overcrowded and choking cities. Then, there is the issue of connectivity of these places with modern means of communication like railways and air services, telecom and fast Internet services.
Many more universities are needed and also other centres of excellence. Similarly new research facilities in science and technology are required to meet our growing needs. There is so much to do that the list can go on endlessly. All these activities will contribute to economic growth and generate employment. There will be no dearth of resources. People will always be ready to pay for the services they receive provided they are of quality and are uninterrupted. Resistance comes only when the services supplied are of poor quality and their regular supply is disrupted.
Our Constitution has given primacy to the individual not to the village. I do not know whether that is the reason for the neglect of the village. In the process the individual has also suffered. Is it possible, for a change, to accord primacy to the villages in our country and for the political class to take a vow that the improvement in the quality of the people living in them shall be the first charge on the nation’s resources?
A survey should be conducted in all the villages to find out what is lacking there in terms of basic amenities. We should then prepare time-bound plans to provide them with what they need in a pointed, directed manner much in the way in which the doctors treat cancer patients with radiation. In this way, we shall achieve our goal of improving the life of our fellow citizens within the same resources. Liberation of Indian villages from their wants must be our new battle cry.
Underlying all these activities on the nation building front is the need for political and governance reforms. I have already stated above how politics in this country reached its nadir with criminalization and the use of money power in the elections. Some improvement has taken place but a lot remains to be done. A beginning must be made with the democratization of political parties. Internal democracy within most political parties is becoming increasingly rare. Stricter laws, to be enforced by the Election Commission with the threat of de-recognition, are needed to force political parties to abide by these laws and rules.

The Idea of an Ever-ever Land, An Excerpt from Shashi Tharoor’s Essay in ‘Left, Right, and Centre’

Senior journalist Nidhi Razdan’s ,‘Left, Right and Centre: The Idea of India’ captures the country in its essence as a melting pot of cultures and histories
Former bureaucrat and current Member of Parliament, Shashi Tharoor, in his essay ‘The Idea of an Ever-ever Land’ talks about how any truism can never hold good for a country as plural as India.
Here’s an excerpt from Tharoor’s essay.
Just thinking about India makes clear the immensity of the challenge of defining what the idea of India means. How does one approach this land of snow peaks and tropical jungles, with twenty-three major languages and 22,000 distinct ‘dialects’ (including some spoken by more people than Danish or Norwegian), inhabited in the second decade of the twenty-first century by over a billion individuals of every ethnic extraction known to humanity? How does one come to terms with a country whose population is nearly 30 per cent illiterate but which has educated the world’s second-largest pool of trained scientists and engineers, whose teeming cities overflow while two out of three Indians scratch a living from the soil? What is the clue to understanding a country rife with despair and disrepair, which nonetheless moved a Mughal emperor to declaim, ‘if on earth there be paradise of bliss, it is this, it is this, it is this . . .’? How does one gauge a culture which elevated non-violence to an effective moral principle, but whose freedom was born in blood and whose independence still soaks in it? How does one explain a land where peasant organizations and suspicious officials once attempted to close down Kentucky Fried Chicken as a threat to the nation, where a former prime minister once bitterly criticized the sale of Pepsi-Cola ‘in a country where villagers don’t have clean drinking water’, and which yet invents more sophisticated software for the planet’s computer manufacturers than any other country in the world? How can one determine the future of an ageless civilization that was the birthplace of four major religions, a dozen different traditions of classical dance, eighty-five major political parties and 300 ways of cooking potato?
The short answer is that it can’t be done, at least not to everyone’s satisfaction. Any truism about India can be immediately contradicted by another truism about India. It is often jokingly said that ‘anything you can say about India, the opposite is also true’. The country’s national motto, emblazoned on its governmental crest, is ‘Satyameva Jayate’: Truth Alone Triumphs. The question remains, however, whose truth? It is a question to which there are at least a billion answers, if the last census hasn’t undercounted us again.
But that sort of an answer is no answer at all, and so another answer to those questions has to be sought. And this may lie in a simple insight: the singular thing about India is that you can only speak of it in the plural. There are, in the hackneyed phrase, many Indias. Everything exists in countless variants. There is no single standard, no fixed stereotype, no ‘one way’. This pluralism is acknowledged in the way India arranges its own affairs: all groups, faiths, tastes and ideologies survive and contend for their place in the sun. At a time when most developing countries opted for authoritarian models of government to promote nation building and to direct development, India chose to be a multiparty democracy. And despite many stresses and strains, including twenty-two months of autocratic rule during the 1975 Emergency, a multiparty democracy—freewheeling, rumbustious, corrupt and inefficient, perhaps, but nonetheless flourishing—India has remained.
One result is that India strikes many as maddening, chaotic, inefficient and seemingly ‘unpurposeful’ as it muddles its way through the second decade of the twenty-first century. Another, though, is that India is not just a country, it is an adventure, one in which all avenues are open and everything is possible. ‘India,’ wrote the British historian E.P. Thompson, ‘is perhaps the most important country for the future of the world. All the convergent influences of the world run through this society . . . There is not a thought that is being thought in the West or East that is not active in some Indian mind.’
Just as well a Brit said that, and not an Indian! That Indian mind has been shaped by remarkably diverse forces: ancient Hindu tradition, myth and scripture; the impact of Islam and Christianity; and two centuries of British colonial rule. The result is unique. Many observers have been astonished by India’s survival as a pluralist state. But India could hardly have survived as anything else. Pluralism is a reality that emerges from the very nature of the country; it is a choice made inevitable by India’s geography and reaffirmed by its history.
Pluralism and inclusiveness have long marked the idea of India. India’s is a civilization that, over millennia, has offered refuge and, more importantly, religious and cultural freedom to Jews, Parsis, several varieties of Christians and, of course, Muslims. Jews came to Kerala centuries before Christ, with the destruction of their First Temple by the Babylonians, and they knew no persecution on Indian soil until the Portuguese arrived in the sixteenth century to inflict it. Christianity arrived on Indian soil with St Thomas the Apostle (Doubting Thomas), who came to the Kerala coast some time before 52 ce and was welcomed on shore by a flute-playing Jewish girl. He made many converts, so there are Indians today whose ancestors were Christian well before any Europeans discovered Christianity. In Kerala, where Islam came through traders, travellers and missionaries rather than by the sword, the Zamorin of Calicut was so impressed by the seafaring skills of this community that he issued a decree obliging each fisherman’s family to bring up one son as a Muslim to man his all-Muslim navy! This is India, a land whose heritage of diversity means that in the Kolkata neighbourhood where I lived during my high school years, the wail of the muezzin calling the Islamic faithful to prayer routinely blends with the chant of mantras and the tinkling of bells at the local Shiva temple, accompanied by the Sikh gurdwara’s reading of verses from the Guru Granth Sahib, with St Paul’s cathedral just round the corner.

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