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‘The Story of Ravana, Ram or Sita?’: ‘The Girl Who Chose’ — An Excerpt

India’s favourite mythologist Devdutt Pattanaik’s ‘The Girl Who Chose’ brings a fresh perspective to what we have commonly known of the Ramayana — the story of Ram.
However, it has largely gone unnoticed that it was the choices that Sita had made which becomes the pivot for the Ramayana.
Here’s an excerpt from Devdutt Pattanaik’s book telling us why the story of Sita is at the heart of all that happens in the epic.


“Once upon a time, there was a man called Ravana, also known as Paulatsya—being the descendent of Rishi Pulatsya from his mother’s side. He was king of Lanka and ruler of the rakshasas, who tricked a princess called Sita, dragged her out of her house in the forest and made her prisoner in his palace. He was killed by Sita’s husband, Ram, the sun-prince. This story is called the Pulatsya Vadham, or the killing of the descendent of Pulatsya.
The story of Ravana’s killing is part of a longer tale called the Ramayana, which tells the story of Ram from his birth to his death. However, in the din of Ravana’s cruelty and Ram’s valour, something is often overlooked—the story of Sita, the girl who chose.
Valmiki, author of the Ramayana, written over 2000 years ago, tells us how Sita is different from Ram and Ravana. Ravana does not care for other people’s choices, while Ram never makes a choice as, being the eldest son of a royal family, he is always expected to follow the rules. But Sita—she makes five choices. And had Sita not made these choices, the story of Ram would have been very different indeed. That is why Valmiki sometimes refers to the Ramayana as the Sita Charitam, the story of Sita.


 
Do you know what were the choices that Sita had made? Grab a copy and find out now!

'A Very Long Epic': 'The Boys Who Fought' — An Excerpt

When an army of five fights against a battalion of a hundred, what happens? Devdutt Pattanaik’s ‘The Boys Who Fought’ looks at the Mahabharata not as an epic war for revenge, but one for the cause of dharma.
Here’s an excerpt from Pattanaik’s Mahabharata with a twist.
Once upon a time, there was a man called Vyasa. His father was a sage. His mother was a fisherwoman. He was born on a river island, and had a dark complexion.
Vyasa grew up watching animals fight. Then he saw humans fight. And he wondered, what was the difference?
In the forest, the mighty eat the meek. In human society, the mighty can take care of the meek. This is dharma, realized Vyasa. It creates a decent human society.
Inspired, Vyasa wrote an incredible story in 1,00,000 verses, split into eighteen chapters, about the fight between a hundred brothers and their five cousins.
Ganesha, who has the head of an elephant, wrote down Vyasa’s story, which became renowned as the Mahabharata, the great Indian epic, for Bharata is another name for India.
Others called it Bharata Kavya, the song of the Bharatas, for the hundred brothers and their five cousins belonged to the Bharata clan, also known as the Kuru clan, which once ruled over India.
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Some people called the story Vijaya, the story of victory, for it describes how the Pandava five, with just seven armies, defeated the Kaurava hundred, with eleven armies, in an eighteen-day-long war.
Vyasa, however, insisted that his epic should be called Jaya, a victory in which no one was defeated. For, in the story, Krishna of the Yadu clan, cousin to both the Pandavas and the Kauravas, reveals a different kind of fight—a greater fight that takes place before weapons are raised on the battlefield, a fight of thoughts and emotions that arises inside our minds and hearts.
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Can’t wait to read more? ‘The Boys Who Fought’ is coming soon!
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What Do We Learn from Roald Dahl’s Books?

Roald Dahl’s books7 have made our childhoods magical. As their characters stepped into bizarre worlds, met strange people and accomplished something fantastic by the end, we were often left with a warm, happy feeling from within.
But the brilliant Roald Dahl made sure he never missed out on leaving small messages for his young readers, in the disguise of magical words woven into fascinating tales.
Here are a few things we have learned from Roald Dahl’s books.
When he showed us why it’s important to be a good person.
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When he showed us why it’s important to be extraordinary.
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When he taught us the secret to never growing old!
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When he showed us how there’s no end to knowledge.
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Share with us what you learned from your favourite Roald Dahl book this Roald Dahl Day!

Have You Introduced Your Child to Devdutt Pattanaik’s Mythological Stories with a Twist?

Hailed as one of India’s favourite mythologists, Devdutt Pattanaik’s books introduce us to the world of Indian mythologies and epics with a fun and interesting twist.
Before you wonder how you’ll take on the difficult task of getting your child to remember the countless stories from our epics, let’s look at the wonderful world of some of Devdutt Pattanaik’s books.

Fun in Devlok Omnibus

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Do you know the name of the demon with poor memory? Do you know the story of the time Lord Krishna landed at the airport? Have you heard of the big fight between Kama and Yama? Dive right into the amazing world of Devlok with this beautifully illustrated book!

Pashu

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In Indian mythology, a fish rescues the world from destruction and a horse can fly high. But where do these animals come from? Why are some of them looked upon with dread, while the rest are worshipped with the Gods and Goddesses? Devdutt Pattanaik unravels the mysteries of the interesting animal world in Indian mythologies in this delightfully illustrated book!

The Girl Who Chose

The Girl Who Chose cover
The epic of Ramayana has been told and retold through generations from the points of view of Ram and Ravana. But little did we notice that the pivot always was Sita and her five choices. What were they? Find out with Devdutt Pattanaik’s beautiful book with stunning illustrations!
If you’ve plunged right into the fascinating world of Devdutt Pattanaik’s books, here’s one more about the Mahabharata waiting for your collection!
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Journey to the Circuit House: ‘The Adventures of Feluda: The Golden Fortress’ — An Excerpt

Satyajit Ray’s much celebrated Bengali detective — Feluda, is now on a mission in the royal sands of Rajasthan!
In ‘The Adventures of Feluda: The Golden Fortress’, the detective dodges impostors, deadly scorpions and bullets to rescue young Mukul, a boy who can recall his past life.
Here’s a peek into Feluda’s spine-chilling chase to the end of the mystery.
The train started. Feluda took out the book on Rajasthan from his shoulder bag. I took out Newman’s Bradshaw timetable and began looking up the stations we would stop at. Each place had a strange name: Galota, Tilonia, Makrera, Vesana, Sendra. Where had these names come from? Feluda had told me once that a lot of local history was always hidden in the name given to a place. But who was going to look for the history behind these names?
The train continued to chug on its way. Suddenly, I could feel someone tugging at my shirt. I turned to find that Lalmohan Babu had gone visibly pale. When he caught my eye, he swallowed and whispered, ‘Blood!’
Blood? What was the man talking about?
Lalmohan Babu’s eyes turned to the Rajasthani. The latter was fast asleep. His head was flung back, his mouth slightly open. My eyes fell on the foot on the bench. The skin around the big toe was badly grazed. It had obviously been bleeding, but now the blood had dried. Then I realized something else. The dark stains on his clothes, which appeared to be mud stains, were, in fact, patches of dried blood.
I looked quickly at Feluda. He was reading his book, quite unconcerned. Lalmohan Babu found his nonchalance too much to bear. He spoke again, in the same choked voice, ‘Mr Mitter, suspicious blood marks on our new co-passenger!’
Feluda looked up, glanced once at the Rajasthani and said, ‘Probably caused by bugs.’
The thought that the blood was simply the result of bites from bed bugs made Lalmohan Babu look like a pricked balloon. Even so, he could not relax. He continued to sit stiffly and frown and cast the Rajasthani sidelong glances from time to time.
The train reached Marwar Junction at half past two. We had lunch in the refreshment room, and spent almost an hour walking about on the platform. When we climbed into another train at half past three to go to Jodhpur, there was no sign of that Rajasthani wearing a red shirt.
Our journey to Jodhpur lasted for two-and-a-half hours. On the way, we saw several groups of camels. Each time that happened, Lalmohan Babu grew most excited. By the time we reached Jodhpur, it was ten past six. Our train was delayed by twenty minutes. If we were still in Calcutta, the sun would have set by now, but as we were in the western part of the country, it was still shining brightly.
We had booked rooms at the Circuit House. Lalmohan Babu said he would stay at the New Bombay Lodge. ‘I’ll join you early tomorrow morning, we can all go together to see the fort,’ he said and went off towards the tongas that were standing in a row.
We found ourselves a taxi and left the station. The Circuit House wasn’t far, we were told. As we drove through the streets, I noticed a huge wall—visible through the gaps between houses—that seemed as high as a two-storeyed house. There was a time, Feluda told me, when the whole of Jodhpur was surrounded by that wall. There were gates in seven different places. If they heard of anyone coming to attack Jodhpur, all seven gates were closed.
Our car went round a bend. Feluda said at once, ‘Look, on your left!’
In the far distance, high above all the buildings in the city, stood a sprawling, sombre-looking fort—the famous fort of Jodhpur. Its rulers had once fought for the Mughals.
I was still wondering how soon I’d get to see the fort at close quarters, when we reached the Circuit House. Our taxi passed through the gate, drove up the driveway, past a garden, and stopped under a portico. We got out, collected our luggage and paid the driver.
A gentleman emerged from the building and asked us if we were from Calcutta, and whether Feluda was called Pradosh Mitter.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Feluda acknowledged.
‘There is a double room booked in your name on the ground floor,’ the man replied.
We were handed the Visitors’ Book to sign. Only a few lines above our own names, we saw two entries: Dr H.B. Hajra and Master M. Dhar.
The Circuit House was built on a simple plan. There was a large open space as one entered. To its left were the reception and the manager’s room. In front of it was a staircase going up to the first floor, and on both sides, there were wide corridors along which stood rows of rooms. There were wicker chairs in the corridors.
A bearer came and picked up our luggage, and we followed him down the right-hand corridor to find room number 3. A middle-aged man, sporting an impressive moustache, was seated on one of the wicker chairs, chatting with a man in a Rajasthani cap. As we walked past them, the first man said, ‘Are you Bengalis?’ Feluda smiled and said, ‘Yes.’ We were then shown into our room.
We bet you can’t wait to find out what happens next! Grab your copy of ‘The Adventures of Feluda: The Golden Fortress’ today!
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Stepping Into the Golden Temple: ‘Amma, Take Me to the Golden Temple’ — An Excerpt

Bhakti Mathur’s ‘Amma, Take Me to the Golden Temple’, is a fascinating guide through the rich history and architecture of the magnificent Darbar Sahib in Amrtisar.
As Amma takes her children, Shiv and Veer, through the corridors of the temple, following the stories of all the Sikh Gurus and getting a taste of the langar from the world’s biggest kitchen, we immediately wish we would be transported to the Golden Temple with them!
Before you get ready for your trip to the Golden Temple with your children, here’s a glimpse of the grandeur you’re about to witness!
It was well before the sun woke up. Amma and the two boys walked barefoot in the darkness across the vast courtyard. Amma cajoled the children with quiet words of encouragement. ‘Just a little bit more, Shiv.’ And a few steps later, ‘We are almost there, Veer.’ The boys, half asleep and too tired to protest, stumbled along, holding on tightly to Amma’s hands. What had seemed like a great idea the evening before—getting up early to meet a 400-year-old guru who lived in a floating temple made of gold—wasn’t looking so grand now!
‘Here we are!’ announced Amma. They had finally reached the magnificent arched gateway that led to the temple complex. The boys got a jolt as they stepped into the shallow pool of cold water meant to cleanse one’s feet before entering the holy grounds beyond. Shiv rubbed his eyes to check that he wasn’t still warm in his bed, dreaming. A Sikh man with a long black beard and wearing a blue tunic stood guard, towering over them, holding a tall spear in one hand.
‘Veer, look!’ Shiv whispered loudly. His brother was doing exactly that, staring at the impressive figure of the guard, as he too rubbed the sleep from his eyes. White teeth peeked from under the guard’s thick moustache as he offered a broad welcoming smile to the boys. They smiled back, relieved at the display of friendliness.
‘Come along now,’ urged Amma, her heart beginning to beat quickly. She gently pushed the boys across the wide threshold of the massive doorway. They stopped. Straight ahead, in the middle of a large lake, brilliantly lit and bright against the background of the dark sky, stood an elegant domed square structure seemingly carved out of solid gold. There it was. The Golden Temple of Amritsar!
Lost for words, the three took in the wondrous sight for a few long moments. A f lock of pigeons flew off their perch atop the shiny dome of the temple and the sound off lapping wings broke their trance. Amma, Shiv and Veer started walking down a f light of steps, taking in their magnificent surroundings. The temple stood in the middle of a square shaped lake, bordered on all four sides by a wide walkway of tiled marble.  A narrow causeway connected the temple to the walkway. An array of buildings, shrines and monuments of different shapes and sizes, with minarets and domes rising above them, enclosed the complex.
They stepped on to the walkway and the marble felt soothingly cool under their bare feet. There was a smattering of people around. Some sat quietly by the water’s edge, moved by the soul-stirring calmness of the beauty surrounding them. Some prayed with their foreheads touching the ground or simply with their hands folded. Some were busy at work, sweeping the night’s accumulation of dust and dirt from the black-and-white marble f loor, while others still lay asleep, wrapped in light cotton blankets.
Soothing hymns sounded softly from loudspeakers attached to the walls along the edge of the walkway. Even though Shiv and Veer did not understand the words, the simplicity of the music stirred them. The loud sound of drumbeats came rolling from one part of the temple complex. Fully awake now, Shiv and Veer ran in the direction of the drums and it was now Amma’s turn to try and keep up with them. Where the drumbeats were coming from, a crowd had gathered in front of a multi-storeyed building made of white marble with brightly lit golden domes topping its roof.
‘This is the Akal Takht, the timeless throne,’ Amma told them.
In the middle of the crowd stood a golden palki, a palanquin. Its walls were engraved with intricate designs and it was lined with red velvet on the inside. It was exquisite. As one group of people decorated it with strands of marigold and roses, another group made its way towards it from the Akal Takht. In their midst, a man with a long silver beard stood wearing a brightblue turban, a sword hanging from a cloth belt tied around his waist. On his head he carried, with great reverence, a bundle wrapped in white silk.
‘Is that the guru, Amma?’ Shiv asked, tugging at Amma’s dupatta. ‘Is he really 400 years old?’
Amma smiled mischievously and said, ‘Yes and no. Yes, that is the guru and it is indeed 400 years old. But if you are asking me whether that man is the guru, then no, he is not. That man is carrying the guru.’
‘What!’ Veer exclaimed. ‘What do you mean, he is carrying the guru?’
‘The bundle on his head is the guru. It is a book called the Guru Granth Sahib, a collection of hymns, poems and words of wisdom of the real gurus from their lifetime, and of other wise men from more than 400 years ago. The Sikhs consider this book to be their guru.’
Shiv and Veer looked at Amma as if they had been cheated.
‘Don’t look so disappointed, boys! There is a wonderful story about how this book came to be the guru and I will tell you about it later. Now, let’s not miss out on the ceremony!’
People were craning their necks to look above those in front of them for a glimpse of the precious bundle as it was being carefully placed inside the palki. Then a group of men lifted the palanquin. Others ran towards it, some to take turns at helping to carry it, others just to touch it. People showered rose petals on the bearers and a single chant arose from the crowd: ‘Wahe Guru! Wahe Guru! Wahe Guru!’ A long procession soon formed behind the palki, swallowing Amma, Shiv and Veer as they moved along with it.
Get ready for your child to guide you through the Golden Temple the next time you visit!
Coming soon — ‘Amma, Take Me to Tirupati’.
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5 Priceless Things We Learn from Ruskin Bond’s Books

Ruskin Bond’s stories have never failed to thrill us and leave us feeling warm inside every time we read one. Our growing up years would not have remained the same had it not been for Bond’s beautiful characters and anecdotes that immediately take us back to the best years of our lives.
But through his enchanting stories of childhood, friendship, family, love and nature, we unknowingly learn a few precious things which, perhaps, none of our school books could have ever taught us.
Here are 5 times Ruskin Bond quietly told us something invaluable about life and the world that will stay with us forever.
When he told us why we should aim for excellence and not settle for being a mediocre “anybody”.
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When he told us that nature is our best home.
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When he showed us that the will to do something is greater than any obstacle.
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When he pointed out the perils of disturbing nature.
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When he showed us that the beauty of life lies in its changes, like the changing seasons.
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Share with us what you have learned from Ruskin Bond’s delightful stories on the occasion of Teachers’ Day!

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