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Tag: nonfiction

Life After a War

Posted on by Penguin India

Translated by Maharghya Chakraborty, this latest translation of Taslima Nasrin’s celebrated memoir recollects Nasrin’s early years against the backdrop of the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971.

My Girlhood revisits Nasrin’s memories of war, trauma, survival, and the beginning of a journey that redefined her world.

Find an excerpt below that gives us a glimpse into life after the War.

*

After the War

The murmurs continued for a few years. Unrest among the people continued to rise as well. Sheikh Mujib formed a political party called Baksal and prohibited all other parties.

‘What sort of government is this that lets its people die in a famine because they have no food?’ Father said one day. Bearded men wearing fez caps materialized out of nowhere and began to clamour that such an Independence was of no value. The country needed to be put back under Pakistani rule. Boromama sighed and said he did not know which direction the country was headed.

‘The government is doing things that did not happen even when Pakistan was ruling us. They are celebrating Shab-e-Baraat in Banga Bhaban with so much pomp. It never used to happen back when this was East Pakistan. Mujib attended an Islamic conference recently. Russia helped us so much during the war and here Mujib is bent on making Bangladesh a part of the Islamic world. The government is even saying things against India. Would we have become free if India had not sent its forces?’

I understood very little of politics. The only thing I knew was that I liked listening to Sheikh Mujib’s 7 March speech whenever it was played on the radio. I would get goosebumps from excitement. ‘This struggle is a struggle for Independence, this struggle is a struggle for freedom,’ this was not just a slogan but a verse that could make the blood boil. In our music classes we would sing ‘Joy Bangla, long live Bangla!’ It was not merely a song, it was something greater, something that sent a jolt through the heart. Every few days pandals would be built in the neighbourhood for music and dance programmes. Every time they would play something on the mike I would be off to see it. Boys and girls would play the harmonium and practise singing and dancing. They all looked so beautiful and their songs always managed to shake me to the core. Like it used to happen while listening to Khudiram’s songs. Kana mama used to tell us Khudiram’s stories, how a young boy had bombed a British Governor-General and embraced death, all for the sake of freedom. I wanted to be like Khudiram, as courageous and as devil may- care.

Then suddenly one day, quite abruptly, something happened that plunged the city into uneasiness again. People gathered on the roads to talk as if the world was about to come crashing down on them any moment. Some had radios stuck to their ear, faces dry, eyes threatening to pop out. What was the matter again? The days of sticking close to the radio for news had come to an end back in ’71, so what had happened again! Whenever things in the country were tense in any way everyone tended to switch on BBC radio for news. No one had too much faith on our own broadcasters. Father too did as expected. I was asked to turn the knob of the radio to try and catch BBC, a big responsibility I felt very proud of having been given. Father never ordered me to do anything except studying, I was never usually asked to participate in anything else. Earlier it was either Dada or Chotda who were asked to turn the knob while I had to stand apart and watch. But that day Dada was away on a work trip to Sherpur for a couple of days. Chotda was not even living with us any more. Hence, the responsibility fell on me. I had almost found the BBC channel when Father asked me to stop. Words could be heard over the ether, broken fragments of half-truncated news.

Sheikh Mujib was dead.

From her birth on a holy day to the dawn of womanhood at fourteen to her earliest memories that alternate between scenes of violence, memories of her pious mother, the rise of religious fundamentalism, the trauma of molestation and the beginning of a journey that redefined her world, My Girlhood is a tour de force.

 

 

A Talib’s Tale – An Excerpt

Posted on by Penguin India

 

John Butt came to Swat in 1970 as a young man in search of an education he couldn’t get from his birthplace in England. He travels around the region, first only with friends from his home country, but as he befriends the locals and starts to learn about their culture and life, he soon finds his heart turning irrevocably Pashtoon.

Containing anecdotes from his life both before and since he shifted to Afghanistan, and with a keen and optimistic attitude towards becoming the best version of himself, John Butt tells a wonderful and heartfelt tale of a man who finds a home in the most unexpected place.

 

Read an excerpt from the book below:

 

I owe a lot to Maulana Khan Afzal, but two things in particular. For one, he instilled in me a love of India. Secondly, he showed me practically that one should always work for one’s living.
When I said to Samar Gul in Bara that I was going to the Afridi heartland of Tirah Maidan, he immediately mentioned Khan Afzal. Laiq’s family had some land in Tirah, and he and I had decided to move there for the summer. : ‘That is great,’ Samar Gul said, ‘you will be able to study with Maulana Khan Afzal.’ Like the Sarkai maulvi sahib, Maulana Khan Afzal was an eminent scholar, but at the time he did not have any students residing with him. He was able to devote all his time to tutoring me. I believe it was largely because Tirah was so inaccessible that there were no other students studying with the maulana. Later on, in the late nineties when I visited Maulana Khan Afzal again, he had a good ten to twelve students studying with him. He had become a focal point for talibs, as the Sarkai maulvi sahib had been in the 1970s.
Every day, with my books under my arm, I would make the forty-five-minute walk from Saddar Khel, where Laiq lived, to Landi Kas. Tirah Maidan is a huge, expansive plateau, the like of which there are many in Afghanistan—the Gardez and Logar plateaus are two that spring to mind. The difference with Tirah Maidan is that it is surrounded by richly forested hills, while the hills that surround other Afghan plateaus are mostly bare. Two tributaries of the Bara river meet at the centre of Tirah Maidan, the Malik-Din Khel Bagh. It is the natural capital of Tirah Maidan. The land dips towards that point, as do the streams and the people. From the eastern side, the tribes of Zakha Khel and the Lower Qambar Khels, known as Shalobaris, from the western side the huge swathe of Malik-Din Khel territory, and beyond that the Upper Qambar Khels. From Saddar Khel, I would walk down towards the Malik-Din Khel Bagh, then fork right towards Landi Kas, tucked in a hillside between Bagh and Dunga in Sholobar territory.
I had been studying a Sufi type of collection of Hadith, entitled Riyadh’as-Saliheen—the Path of the Righteous. I say it was Sufi oriented since it was mostly organized according to the virtues that Sufis strive to attain—repentance, patience, sincerity, trust in Allah, steadfastness. It is very spiritually oriented. I am glad I began my study of Hadith with this book. It has remained my favourite collection of Hadith—extremely cleansing and refreshing. However, Khan Afzal switched me to the more mainstream and standard Mishkat’al-Masabih. Mishkat is arranged more conventionally, according to the various strands of jurisprudence: prayer, fasting and the other forms of worship or ibadat—one’s interaction with Allah—followed by muamilat—one’s dealings with other human beings. In the entire Islamic canon, there is this distinction between the rights of Allah—huqooq’Allah—and the rights of one’s fellow beings, indeed of all Allah’s creatures—huqooq’al-ibad. While in Hadith study Khan Afzal went for the more orthodox Mishkat, in jurisprudence, his choice of book for my study was distinctly unorthodox. His preference was Taaleem’al-Islam, written in Urdu by his own teacher, Mufti Kefayatullah of Delhi. ‘Along with learning Islamic jurisprudence—fiqh—you will learn Urdu,’ he recommended. For Taaleem’al-Islam I went outside with his elder son Abdul Hakeem, then a teenager. I guess Abdul Hakeem felt more comfortable teaching me with his father not immediately on hand. We sat on the verge of the field, had a laugh and chatted a lot, while at the same time also reading Taaleem’al-Islam.
In encouraging me to learn Urdu, it was as though the maulana had a premonition or was goading me in the direction of study in India. It had not been that long, maybe twenty or twenty-five years, since he had returned from studying in the Aminiya madrasa in Delhi. India had rubbed off on him to a considerable degree, in a way making him an unusual Afridi. He even continued to wear a lungi—a skirt-like garment favoured by Muslims of India—at home. Pashtoons generally consider this garment effeminate. Even the maulana would not be seen in that garment outside the home. I have replicated Maulana Khan Afzal in this regard. Even when I am in Afghanistan, I wear a lungi in my place of residence; when I am in north India, I wear my lungi a little further afield, as far as the local shops; when I am in south India, I wear a lungi pretty much all the time. At the time when I was studying with the maulana, I used to ask him a lot about India. In a memorable phrase, he once told me that ‘even the dogs of India have manly virtues’—’da Hindustan spi ham saritob laree.’ ‘What’s Delhi like, compared to Peshawar?’ I once asked. ‘What is Hangu like compared to Peshawar?’ he asked rhetorically, referring to a town in the Frontier province, where buses set out towards Tirah. I answered that it was just a tiny town by comparison to Peshawar. ‘Well, so is Peshawar tiny compared to Delhi.’
Yet at the same time the maulana was the most staunchly Afridi of all the Panjpiris. He absolutely loved his native Tirah. I am getting ahead of myself here, but when he was expelled from Tirah along with other Panjpiris and resided for a while in Peshawar, he pined for his motherland so much that he used to console himself by reciting poems written by muhajirs—those who had emigrated from Mecca to Medina at the time of the Holy Prophet—expressing their homesickness for Mecca. He was also invariably cordial with his fellow Afridis, irrespective of whether they subscribed to his Panjpiri views or not. I never saw him take issue or argue with anyone about matters of dogma. He would enact his duties as the pre-eminent Islamic scholar in Tirah Maidan, in the course of which he would explain how important it was to believe in the oneness of Allah and to follow the Sunna of the Holy Prophet. These two things—Tauhid and Sunna—are the twin pillars on which Panjpiri dogma is founded. But he would never become aggressive towards those who did not subscribe to Panjpiri beliefs.

 

 

A Talib’s Tale –The Life and Times of a Pashtoon Englishman is available now (also as an e-book)!

 

Unique Traditions of Indigenous Tribes in India

Posted on by Penguin India

Inhabiting the remote hills and forests of India are isolated communities of people who have survived the ever increasing influence of urbanisation. The Adivasis have their own religious beliefs, traditions and rituals which are far removed from the rest of the country. White As Milk And Rice takes us away from our metropolitan cultural medley and leads us into life stories from six remarkable tribes of India where we see age old traditions manifest in the rapidly changing milieu of their fragile world.

Read on for a glimpse into the traditions of the Adivasis from the stories in White As Milk And Rice –

The Halakkis of Karnataka

The Halakkis’s janapada, or folk songs, are passed on from one generation to another as part of their oral history. These folk songs are sung by the Halakki women, unaccompanied by instruments, as they go about their daily chores.  With no formal knowledge of music, the women sing in the same tune ,mostly out of habit, as an expression of joy, sadness, anxiety or contentment.

‘Why did they all know the chorus to these songs? Sukri wonders. They had inherited these songs orally, rather than in written form. Often, the meaning of the colloquial, ancient words escapes them, but they sing it for the sorority—songs that bind them together through their hardships, but songs Sukri associates only with happiness, with festivals, forests, family, weddings, weeding, working on paddy fields.’

The Kanjars of Chambal,Rajasthan

Originally a community of valorous Rajputs, the Bhatus were pushed to the margins of society by multiple invasions in the Indian subcontinent. Of the many Bhati Rajputs that fled into the jungles, some styled themselves as rebels or baghis who operated out of the labyrinthine ravines around Chambal river and came to be known as Kanjars. The Kanjars performed a much revered ritual  before leaving for heists –

‘The night before, Lala had taken out a silver bowl from one of the bundles in his sikri, brought the empty bowl to his lips and kissed it, closing his eyes, holding his breath as if tasting the tenacity of his ancestors. Later, his wife had poured in kaccha khatiya and some goat blood into the bowl. Sipping on it, Lala had given an oath or a pledge of loyalty to the gang and acceptance of the consequences if a breach of trust was made.’

The Kurumbas of the Nilgiris, Tamil Nadu

Descendants of the Pallava dynasty of southern India, the forest-dwelling Kurumbas are regarded as some of the oldest inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent. Scattered in the hills around the Nilgiris, the Kurumbas are believed to possess extraordinary spiritual and supernatural powers. Most Kurumbas survive by selling forest produce and the honey-gathering season is celebrated with ceremony-

‘Old grandmothers of the hamlet would sing songs in the village square about honey collection; interspersed would be songs on elopement with lovers, extramarital affairs, abnormal sex organs, jackfruits, cucumbers, etc. The men would have played tamabati, or the drum, to which the younger women would dance in circles, clapping their hands together below the waist. ‘

The Marias of Bastar, Chattisgarh

In the Gond society, Ghotul is a tradition that is integral to the Marias socio-religious beliefs. The nightly ritual is announced with the beating of drums and a procession of young boys and girls heads to the ghotul which could be described as a clubhouse. Dressed to please, the young Marias sharpen their seduction skills while enjoying music, dance, games and massages. Most activities are designed to develop intimacy between the sexes.

 ‘In this soft, diffused glow of affection, boys and girls lived together in that dormitory for years; a charming mixture of learning and experimenting with lovemaking, none of it meant to be taken seriously.’

The Khasis of Shillong, Meghalaya

Being a devout Khasi entails a life of discipline and familial duty. In old-fashioned Khasi families the birth of a female child is celebrated with a feast. Learning to keep a home, performing ancestral worship and looking after family members is part of induction to life as a Khasi female.

‘The Khasis follow the matrilineal principle of descent, residence and inheritance. The youngest daughter inherits, children take their mother’s surname, and once married, the khadduh, or the youngest sister, and her husband live in her mother’s home.’

The Konyaks of Nagaland

Straddling the Indo-Myanmar border, the fiercely independent Konyaks are believed to be followers of an indigenous animist religion. Young men in the tribe practise war skills and their training is focused on preparing them for life as  warriors. The tribe’s collection of severed enemy- heads is their pride.

 ‘A “good naomei” protected his comrades and never refused a beautiful woman’s advances. Our village must grow bigger, stronger and for that, enemies’ heads must be secured, brought to the village and fed rice beer. This would bring it prosperity and for the naomei, some virility. The more the heads, the more the reverence.’

Nidhi Dugar Kundalia takes us into the remote regions of India where tribal communities practice and preserve their traditions with reverence even as external forces make inroads into their precariously balanced existence.

To know more about the original inhabitants of India, read White As Milk And Rice!

Should You Dance When You’re Pregnant? – An Excerpt from ‘Amma Mia’

Posted on by Penguin India

Is my baby not well?

When can I introduce my baby to solid foods?

Becoming a new mother can be an exciting yet overwhelming time. No matter how prepared you are, there will always be many confusing moments, opinions and a whole lot of drama! And just like any other new mom, Esha Deol Takhtani was faced with many such questions soon after the birth of her two daughters-Radhya and Miraya.

Packed with advice, tips, stories and easy and delicious recipes for toddlers, Amma Mia reflects the personal journey of one woman’s transformation into a mother. Informative and easy to follow, this book will help new mothers navigate the ups and downs of raising a healthy toddler and make their child fall in love with food.

Read an excerpt from the book below:

 

When she[Hema Malini] was five months pregnant, my mother was shooting for two films—Satte Pe Satta and Razia Sultan. In the song, ‘Dukki Pe Dukki Ho’, you can clearly see her bump. That’s me in there! And for Razia Sultan, she had to ride a horse while pregnant. She tells me that I’m restless and energetic because she was physically active during her nine months. She also danced onstage during her pregnancy. You must remember that she was doing this during the 1980s, when it was radical for a woman to be so active while pregnant.

 

My mother is a superwoman like that, who has always broken the rules and stereotypes of what women should be like. She has always inspired me to push the limits. In fact, I will never forget what she told me when I was pregnant. She said, ‘You’re not sick that you need to rest all the time. You’re simply pregnant. After delivery, your body is at its most elastic and flexible. You can mould it into any shape you want.’

 

And so I followed her advice unconditionally. I performed the dance ballet, Ramayana, on stage; I worked on a short film called Cakewalk; I wrote this book during my second pregnancy; and I had many other projects in the pipeline.

 

Channelling your inner creativity is a great way to enrich your nine months because the energy and positivity will most certainly be transferred to your child. That being said, no two pregnancies are alike. If you have complications or have been advised rest by your gynaecologist, do so. Be cautious. Don’t be silly or impulsive. From the day you know you’re pregnant, you must be careful. There will be many people with all sorts of advice during this time but pay heed to only one person: your gynaecologist.

For more tips and tricks, check out Amma Mia by Esha Deol Takhtani.

Tête-à-Tête with Arjun Nath

Posted on by Penguin India
What was your latest “OK Boomer” moment?

This is a tricky one because I’m nearly old enough to be considered a Boomer myself! I was attending a wedding recently and an older gentleman — within a few minutes of meeting me for the first time ever — asked why I wasn’t married yet. When I asked him why he felt I should be married, he said: Vedon mein likha hai ki yeh tumhara dharma hai. Really? So being happy with your highly personal life choices is a big no-no, but preaching a 3000-year-old sacred text at a complete stranger about the ‘right’ way to live their life is somehow fine? OK Boomer.

 

Any tips on bridging the generation gap with parents?

It’s a big subject and I’m nowhere near qualified enough to be handing out tips on it. But in my experience, parents are nosy as hell. I mean, aside from being the ones with the money, that’s basically their one defining trait. It comes from fear. They don’t want to control your life, they want to know that you’re safe. So throw them a bone once in a while. Let them know when you’ll be out late, and who your friends are. Share any one meal with them every day. It’s no big deal and it’ll make your life much easier.

 

Any personal #litAF friendship stories you still cherish?

I made a friend when I was at a drug rehab 10 years ago. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her by the oddly specific name Kajal Sheth. Because she lives in London and I in Delhi, we’ve met only a handful of times since. And because I dread speaking on the phone (to anyone), we are sometimes not in touch for months at a stretch. This is a frustrating, often hurtful, situation for her. And yet, no matter how many calls I don’t take or texts I don’t respond to, she’s always there for me when I need her to be. Gehna’s baby, in the book, is named Sitara after Kajal’s daughter.

 

Who do you relate more to: Eram or Gehna?

At a circumstantial level, Eram. He had, like myself, a father with Parkinson’s. He also enjoys games of chance, and strives to be better than he is. Gehna is more of a manic pixie — overly sensitive, bipolar, spontaneous, and self-absorbed, and I am none of those things.

 

Rom-coms or Thrillers?

Thrillers. Rom-coms are a guilty pleasure, and they have this annoying habit of sneaking up on you and stabbing you right in the heart.

 

Favourite sports movie?

That’s an impossible question. How to narrow it down to just one? Sports movies, even the badly made ones, always make me cry. Probably something to do with the winning-against-all-odds trope that hits deep. In English, Seabiscuit. Closer to home, Lagaan.

 

What’s the story behind the title [“Not All Those Who Wander”]?

JRR Tolkien, in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, wrote a poem that starts with the couplet: All that is gold does not glitter / Not all those who wander are lost. I borrowed from it for the title of the book, partly as tribute to the literary master craftsman and partly because feeling LOST is such a common experience for teenagers.

What food are you craving right now?

Sev Puri. I am always craving sev puri — even while eating it! Indian street food is the best street food, Chaat is the best Indian street food, and sev puri is the best Indian chaat street food.

 

Be honest – how many drafts did it take for Not All Those Who Wander to take shape?

I’ll be honest — one draft. I take no pride in that fact. A famous author, I forget who, was asked a similar question in The Paris Review. She (or possibly he) said that there are two kinds of writers. One: those who just put words on a page willy-nilly until the first draft is done and then work out the kinks in the rewrite. Two: those who are constitutionally incapable of moving onto the next sentence until the preceding one is polished and perfect. I’m the latter sort. It takes me a long time to finish a first draft but when I’m done, it’s done.

 

Any procrastination tactics you employed while writing the novel?

Yes. Netflix, the Internet, and examining the contents of my belly button. Getting anything done without a deadline, a boss, and irate clients is no easy task. The only thing that works is a driving need to see where the story goes.

 

What’s your typing speed?

Tap…tap…taptaptaptaptaptaptap…taptap………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………tap.

 

What’s the last book you read?

George RR Martin’s A Dance with Dragons. Each year I re-read the entire series in the hope that this, finally, will be the year he finishes Book VI, The Winds of Winter. But he never does. I’ve never been more cross with a person in my whole life. He’s probably watching Netflix. Finish the damn book, GEORGE!

 

Favourite chat slang?

Not a huge fan of chat slang, tbh. All that “wer R u *smh *idk” business drives me up the wall. But I have of late become a rabid emoji user. My favourite is the rolling-your-eyes yellow face. So useful!

 

What has been your best 3 AM idea?

To cash-out of a poker game. I know you probably meant to ask what has been my best 3 AM story idea, but I’m re-interpreting the question. Cashing out of a poker game is the best idea at any time, and especially at 3 AM. Go home. Get some sleep. Do NOT try to calculate how many meals you can afford for the rest of the month.

 

An Insight into the Life of The Lone Empress, Jayalalithaa

Posted on by Penguin India

The Lone Empress is the journey of a proud Ammu to an indefatigable Rossappu Amma. Despite her immense popularity, she felt lonely and vulnerable in personal life after her mother – Veda (popularly known as Sandhya) and her mentor – MGR, passed away. The book tells the story of how a charismatic and talented woman steered through a male-dominated film industry, developed a loyal political fan base without the support of her party seniors, and stood her ground even when sentenced to four years in jail.

Here are a few excerpts that reveal some of the characteristics of her fiery personality.

She was an honour roll student

‘Look closer, you will find J. Jayalalithaa’s name printed in bold white letters, on the annual roll of honour, as the recipient of the Best Outgoing Student Rolling Shield for the year 1964. The school’s Centenary Celebrations (2009) special souvenir carries a photo of a young Jayalalithaa in her school uniform proudly posing with the shield.’ 

She was more than a pretty face

‘The AIADMK’s party conference was being organised on a huge scale and the town people thronged to hear the star speaker who to give her maiden political speech, one that she herself had prepared. MGR was present, too, drawing hordes of men and women, most of them film fans. The town square was a sea of humanity and the theme of Jayalalithaa’s speech was, “Pennin perumai” (woman’s greatness). The public, expecting only to see a pretty face, were in for a big surprise. Jayalalithaa’s speech was fiery and impressive, an instant success. She had arrived, barely having left, as it were, the starting the block.’ 

She honoured MGR at his death ceremony in her own way

‘Jayalalithaa did not shed a tear. She did not wail. She stunned the onlookers and mourners by standing in vigil for two days – thirteen long hours on the first day and eight hours on the second. Because of her enormous will power, she was not exhausted physically, but she experienced the mental and physical torture from other sources. Several women from Janaki’s side stood near her and began stamping on her feet and pinching her to drive her away. But she stood undaunted, swallowing the humiliation, her pride keeping her firmly where she has taken position.’ 

Jail changed her

‘She was in jail for twenty-eight days; and on coming out she appeared to have been hardened rather than chastened. It must have been a traumatic period for her, proud and used to sophistication, like a queen whose feet had never touched the earth and whose head had never felt the heat of the blazing sun. But the jail wardens were struck and deeply touched by the dignity with which she had conducted herself. She hardly spoke to any of them. She spent her time reading books. She later described in graphic detail how she had suffered in the bandicoot-infested jail.’ 

Victory was her goal

‘As long as she lived, victory was her goal. “V” was her symbol. “Naalai namathe”, tomorrow is ours, was her mantra. Now, there is no tomorrow. The Supreme Court waited till her death to release the verdict. She remained “not guilty” till her last breath, innocent, fully acquitted of all charges. She dies in office as the chief minister. She was the victor even in death.’ 

Grab a copy of The Lone Empress to read the dramatic turn of events and the struggles that made Jayalalithaa such a controversial figure.

Channel the Worldly Wisdom of Chanakya

Posted on by Penguin India

The names Kautilya and Chanakya, representing the same personage, are an integral part of history from the period when Mauryan Emperor Chandragupta reigned over India. Kautilya is well known as the author of the seminal Indian treatise on politics, administration, diplomacy and war called Arthashastra. But it is the vast collection of aphoristic sayings in Sanskrit attributed to Chanakya, and therefore called Chanakya Niti, that have remained relevant and memorable over the centuries.

What is that wisdom which has enabled Chanakya’s verses of observation and advice to keep the place of honour in the oral tradition of India even as these have been lauded across the world in various translations?

Chanakya lures us in with one of his introductory verses:

With perusal of these precepts,

the best of men will understand

the famous teachings on true duty,

 on good and bad, on what to do or not.

 

Read on for 7 nuggets of worldly wisdom from Chanakya Niti–

 

  1. Chanakya warns against errors of judgement in choosing that which offers immediate succour over learning and values that may carry one through life and beyond.

One who discards the permanent,

and pursues just the transient—

the first values are by him destroyed,

the second perish in any case.

  1. The wise one who rose above his poverty and physical appearance to make himself indispensible to the ruler reminds us to see value in all things.

Nectar seek, even from poison,

gold even from excrement,

knowledge even from one base,

and the girl that is a gem, even from a family low.

  1. Experienced in the ways of the world, Chanakya exhorts man to speak in a measured way and reveal only what is necessary and conceal that which is yet incomplete.

Some work considered in the mind,

when speaking do not public make,

just think about it privately,

till it is indeed accomplished.

  1. Befriending one who has revealed his base nature can lead man down the road of misery. Being a keen observer of virtue, Chanakya reiterates the importance of keeping good company.

Wicked, and badly behaved,

he lives ill, casts evil looks—

one who makes of such a person

a friend will soon get destroyed.

  1. Pouring his enlightened self into a verse that is as simple as it is deep, Chanakya shares a core fact of existence in a way that equalizes all distinction.

Which family is free of faults,

which person has not suffered disease,

who has not faced adversity,

whose happiness is permanent?

  1. Mature and learned as he was, the great teacher Chanakya shares a lesson in moderation.

For beauty great was Sita seized,

Ravana slain for too much pride,

   for giving too much was Bali bound—

 as such, always, excess avoid.

  1. In an unforgettable verse that showcases him as the shrewd master of politics, Chanakya hints at the perils of walking the straight line in a crooked world.

Too upright, straight, one should not be,

go to the forest and there see:

straight trees cut down repeatedly,

while standing stays the crooked tree.

It is perhaps his ability to dig into the depth of human nature and tease out the knotted truths of human behaviour that has kept Chanakya alive for Modern India to engage with.

Haksar writes, ‘Overall, it is both their meaning and their style that has made the Chanakya verses so memorable for so long.’

Translated from the original Sanskrit by A.N.D. Haksar, read Chanakya Niti for more wisdom!

Reach for the Stars! – An excerpt from ‘Fearless’

Posted on by Penguin India

Inspirational women from all over the world have held their own in the face of discrimination, inequality and injustice. These women have been politicians, lawyers, activists, artists and more – with the common goal of raising their voices and fighting for the greater good no matter their nationality, race or religion.

Fearless explores this notion by collating a variety of stories focused on the inspirational women of Pakistan and the strength they have displayed in their own lives.

You can read an example of one such story, about the life astronaut Namira Salim below:

Namira Salim was a quiet, meditative child whose head was quite literally in the stars. It was her dream to become an astronaut but for a little girl from Pakistan, this seemed an impossible fantasy.

Namira was obsessed with the night sky and never asked for her parents for anything— except to be sent into space! ‘I was literally born with the dream of going to space. And the unshaken belief that I would.’

Her parents caved and got Namira her first telescope at the age of 14—she never looked down again as her sights were firmly set on her goal! She was part of the pioneering astronomy society in Pakistan and would spend hours gazing at the stars. Her family moved to the UAE and Namira eagerly participated in star-gazing parties in the desert. She met David McNaughton, one of the first people in the world to go into space, here and became his mentee.

As a college student studying International Relations and later as a resident of Monaco, Namira continued to be deeply absorbed by and involved in space-related activities, even launching a range of ‘space true’ jewelry under a private artistic label called A Soul Affair.

A recognized polar explorer, Namira was the first Pakistani to reach the North Pole in April 2007 and the South Pole in January 2008. She is also the first Asian to skydive (tandem) over Mount Everest in 2008 and the only Pakistani in Virgin’s Galactic commercial space liner, an opportunity he was shortlisted for as a future astronaut out of 1,44,000 applications to travel into space.

However, Namira wasn’t about to just sit around waiting for the first commercial flight to take off! She decided to get qualified officially by completing her training in the US and became the first Pakistani to do so. She also founded Space Trust, a non-profit initiative that promotes space as the New Frontier for Peace, via novel peace initiatives to inspire change and encourage dialogue.

You can read more about Namira and other stories about inspirational and incredible women like her in Fearless – grab your copy today!

What are Stereotypes about Pakistan among Indians?

Posted on by Penguin India

Many of us have concluded Pakistan as an economically, culturally, socially and ideologically regressive country. Most of us have dropped the idea of exploring the picturesque landscape of Pakistan due to a dangerously false perception of it being a terrorism inflicted country. That is why when a journalist – Sameer Arshad Khatlani, decided to attend the World Punjabi Conference in Lahore, his family felt extremely anxious about his decision.

The Other Side of the Divide is a journalist’s reflective travelogue that bares the complexities of culture and class in Pakistan. Khatlani’s adventurous journey to the heart of Pakistan reveals the connecting thread between two nations through stories that fail to reach the masses in India.

Here are some excerpts that render all commonly held stereotypes about Pakistan as false:

 

  1. Stereotype: Pakistan is a land that breeds hostility

‘The immigration clearances were prompt. I had never seen a more cheerful immigration official than the one who stamped my passport. the atmosphere was not even remotely as hostile as what it used to be a decade ago. […] I did not find any hostility. Far from it…’

  1. Stereotype: Pakistan is full of only Muslims

‘Everything across the border looked as if harmonized with the Indian side. […] An artificial line drawn through the heart of Punjab cannot be deep enough to change the shared language, culture, customs, idioms and attitudes shaped over centuries. Sikh men in their beautiful and colorful turbans in eastern (Indian) Punjab and ubiquitous Urdu in western (Pakistani) Punjab are perhaps the only outliers on the surface. Punjabi is the language of the people on the street.’ 

  1. Stereotype: Pakistan rejects everything that is Indian

‘The market was abuzz despite the cold. it could have been easily mistaken for a market in Indian Punjab had not it been for Urdu signages. Virtually every shop sold artificial jewellery, Indian beauty products and prominently displayed Amul Macho undergarments packs with pictures of Bollywood stars Saif Ali Khan and Akshay Kumar.’

 

  1. Stereotype: Cities in Pakistan aren’t as developed as India

‘The Pak Heritage is a budget hotel particularly popular with Sikh pilgrims. it is located on the busy and mostly gridlocked Davis road with many similarities with Delhi’s Daryaganj. […] In Lahore, posh, leafy and well-maintained areas like the Mall are located just a few kilometers away, south of Davis road. Daryaganj, likewise, is a five-minute drive from the heart of tree-shaded Lutyens’s Delhi, distinguished by its colonial-era bungalows and wide avenues.’ 

  1. Stereotype: Bollywood doesn’t have Pakistani fans

‘… one of Pakistan’s best-known newspapers, Dawn, gushed about Madhuri’s ‘dazzling and disarming smile’, which she ‘quite literally patented’ and honed ‘into an art form’. […] In Lahore, and indeed across Pakistan, Bollywood is ubiquitous and gets prime slots on TV news channels, sometimes at the cost of more pressing issues.’ 

  1. Stereotype: Pakistan has an extremely orthodox culture

‘No one disappeared after the screening. A party-like atmosphere continued outside the hall well past midnight. Television crews surrounded filmmakers and socialites for sound bites about the film. Camera flashlights brightened the dimly lit waiting area. Some spoke to at least half a dozen camera crews about the film and performances of the lead actors, Aamir Khan and Katrina Kaif.’ 

  1. Stereotype: Pakistan has an Urdu speaking community

‘Punjabi, along with its variants, still remains the mother tongue of an overwhelming number—close to 60 per cent—of Pakistanis. Beyond the urban upper-class pockets of Lahore and other bigger cities, it remains the colourful language of choice for the masses…Urdu-speakers have accounted for roughly 10 per cent of Pakistan’s population.’ 

To understand how the common people of Pakistan have often challenged the dehumanizing discourse about their country, there may be no better place to begin than The Other Side of the Divide.

The Complete Story – Warts and All

Posted on by Penguin India

In Shashi Tharoor’s words: ‘Alistair Shearer’s The Story of Yoga offers an absorbing chronicle of the rise of yoga, tracing its evolution through history to its rapid global proliferation today, with insights into the challenges ahead.’

Alistair Shearer himself calls it a “how come” book rather than a “how to” one. For the first time, The Story of Yoga presents a narrative setting out a comprehensive and accessible history of yoga in its global cultural context.

Find a glimpse of the expansive global outreach and popularity of yoga in an excerpt below:

 

WAY BACK WHEN…?

It’s a typical Friday evening in downtown America. A group of youthful practitioners, mostly women kitted out in fashionable sportswear and carrying plastic water bottles, arrives at a large, well-lit gym. Tanned and toned, they have come to relax after a hard day at the office, tighten up their abs and flabs, reduce their blood pressure and cholesterol. During the session there is a lot of talk of anatomical details amidst a pervasive atmosphere of ‘no pain no gain’; the stretching and relaxing may involve blocks, ropes and other appliances, but there is a determined energy exerted in most of the postures. Everything takes place in front of the wall-to-wall mirrors and the ethos is one of goal-directed accomplishment. Everyone is getting somewhere, burning off fat and sweating out stress, improving themselves. At the end of the session, recharged and clear-headed, people chat while quickly changing back into street gear. Some are advocating the benefits of the latest detox programmes and high-energy diets, while almost all are checking their phones and consulting their upcoming schedules.

Not far away on the other side of town, another group is meeting. Its members are older than the gym-goers but, again, almost exclusively female. Here the lighting is dimmer, sitar music is playing softly in the background and the scent of sandalwood wafts from an incense stick smouldering in front of an image of the Dancing Shiva. The session, led by a Western teacher with an Indian name who is just back from a three-month stay at an ashram in Rishikesh, begins with mispronounced chanting from a sacred Hindu text, followed by some mantras that the group repeats after her. Sanskrit terminology is used to describe the postures, which are performed slowly and gently. The session is brought to a gentle close with a guided meditation, and then, after some relaxed socializing and prolonged hugging, people drift away into their various weekends.

***

The understanding of yoga typified by the first group above will be dealt with later in this book, but for the moment, let us focus on the second. As do millions of others, its members would see their practice as being in some way connected to the nourishing well-spring of Indian wisdom. However vaguely the connection may be articulated, practitioners and teachers take for granted that this yoga is the subcontinent’s practical and perennial spiritual gift to the rest of the world. One of the most popular English translations of Patanjali’s classic Yoga Sutra is How to Know God, a poetic collaboration between the California-based Indian guru Swami Prabhavananda and the English writer Christopher Isherwood. First published in 1953, this version is still the Vedanta Press’ best-selling book, and has remained so respected over the years that until very recently the official governing body of yoga in the UK, The British Wheel of Yoga, chose it as the recommended text for its teacher training courses. In the opening paragraph of their introduction, the authors tell us: ‘the yoga doctrine may be said to have been handed down from prehistoric times’. Such an impressive pedigree might perhaps be proved one day, but in fact there is currently no hard evidence to support such a claim, and certainly not as regards body-yoga. Much water has flowed under the scholastic bridge in the almost seventy years since this translation was first published, and such broad statements rarely go unchallenged today. Indeed, as we shall see, a great deal of what is practised as yoga in the twenty-first century actually has very little in common with what we now know of ancient India, in terms of both its socio-cultural norms and its spiritual aims.

**

Shearer’s book boasts of a colourful cast of characters, past and present, who tell an engaging tale of scholars, scandal, science and spirit, wisdom and waywardness. This is a definitively untold story of yoga – warts and all.

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