The establishment and running of businesses tap into caste networks, both in terms of arranging finance and providing access to a ready workforce.By and large, caste has only been studied from a religious, social and political angle. Though it is widely accepted that caste has economic ramifications, any study of this aspect has been limited to looking at caste groups in terms of their per capita income, their representation in various professions, and other statistical details.Caste as Social Capital examines the workings of caste through the lens of business, economics and entrepreneurship. It interrogates the role caste plays in the economic sphere in terms of facilitating the nuts and bolts of business and entrepreneurship: finance, markets and workforce. Through this qualitative view of caste, an entirely new picture emerges of caste which forces one to view this age-old institution in new light.

    Build lakes, plant trees. Gowda built a hundred lakes and lined the wide avenues of the city with leafy trees.After India gained independence, Bangalore became known as a pensioners’ paradise. In the early 1980s, the city reinvented itself once again, this time as the home of some of the world’s most outstanding entrepreneurs. Very rapidly, aided by the dozens of engineering schools that had sprouted in the city since Independence, Bangalore became the hub of India’s information technology (IT) revolution. In the twenty-first century, the city is trying to cope with the problems that have accompanied its explosive growth, and enormous success— crumbling infrastructure, traffic jams, soaring real estate prices, corruption and chaos. Despite the challenges it faces, Bangalore continues to be one of the world’s most distinctive and interesting cities. T. J. S. George walks us through both ‘old’ and ‘new’ Bangalore—from gleaming skyscrapers and lively dance studios to colonial-era bungalows marked by quaint little name-stones, from legendary eating places like Koshy’s and Mavalli Tiffin Room (MTR) to shining new eateries that serve craft beer.

    

    The character sketches in this collection are not only tales in the old mould, but also have the magical quality that touches upon the very essence of Life. The characters are genuinely Marathi in nature, and they have been drawn with the ease with which dawn turns into day or a bud blossoms into a flower. With innocence, Vyankatesh Madgulkar tells us about the poverty-stricken lives of the people of Mandesh and their saga of never-ending sorrows. Their tragedy is moving. The mind is filled with the thought that while men seek some happiness, their lives were never scripted to find it. This essential tragic fact is told by Madgulkar with the detachment of an artist. This renders his characters unforgettable. Our mind is disturbed every time we think of them.

    Adapted from the hit TV series on NDTV Good Times, ‘Highway on my Plate’, it lists the top eats on almost every major Indian highway and routes as presented by the popular anchors Rocky and Mayur. Packed with information, Highway on my Plate is an indispensable guide for all road trips.About The AuthorRocky and Mayur are the highly popular anchors of ‘Highway on my Plate’ which is the hit TV show from NDTV Good Times.

    —George Santayana But for a series of major blunders by Nehru across the spectrum—it would not be an exaggeration to say that he blundered comprehensively—India would have been on a rapidly ascending path to becoming a shining, prosperous, first-world country by the end of his term, and would surely have become so by early 1980s—provided, of course, Nehru’s dynasty had not followed him to power. Sadly, the Nehru era laid the foundations of India’s poverty and misery, condemning it to be forever a developing, third-rate, third-world country. By chronicling those blunders, this book highlights THE FACTS BEHIND THE FACADE. This ‘Revised, Enlarged & Unabridged, June-2018 Edition’ of the book comprises (a)123 Major Blunders compared to 97 of the first Digital Edition of July 2016; (b)over twice the matter, and number of words; and (c)exhaustive citations and complete bibliography. Blunders is used in this book as a general term to also include failures, neglect, wrong policies, bad decisions, despicable and disgraceful acts, usurping undeserved posts, etc. It is not the intention of this book to be critical of Nehru, but historical facts, that have often been distorted or glossed over or suppressed must be known widely, lest the mistakes be repeated, and so that India has a brighter future.

    I still think so… From within we are one and the same. Sometimes he wores the mask with my name while at others I do so to fool people.’ A jeep passed by speedily and very closely. It would have brushed up. ‘They are out to kill us!’ the terror in Shreenath’s voice was unmistakable. ‘They are out to kill us! Is this some kind of game that destiny is playing with us? It wants to kill us together; both the original and the duplicate, along with their fiancées.’ Once again the jeep passed by. It symbolized a kite swooping down from high skies upon its prey. As it misses the prey it goes back to get into action. What is going to happen now? We three are set upon the journey. Where? No one knows. How long? No one knows. We are mere puppets in the hands of destiny. Ten breathtaking stories! Each one creating doubt beyond imagination while piling up the tension. Ten stories that would really create doubt! Shaded with games played by human minds these stories take us to immeasurable height and fathomless depth at the same time. Matkari has once again proved that his stories are not just entertaining or pleasing. They take us beyond that where it is impossible to comprehend. They are terribly frightful. They are mysterious. These ten stories once again prove his command over words and themes and excellent manifestation of novel ideas. They underline his authority in writing such dubious stories.

    Akbar's amazing story of three generations of a Muslim family —based on his own—and how they deal with the fluctuating contours of Hindu-Muslim relations. Telinipara, a small jute mill town some 30 miles north of Kolkata along the Hooghly, is a complex Rubik's Cube of migrant Bihari workers, Hindus and Muslims; Bengalis poor and 'bhadralok'; and Sahibs who live in the safe, 'foreign' world of the Victoria Jute Mill. Into this scattered inhabitation enters a child on the verge of starvation, Prayaag, who is saved and adopted by a Muslim family, converts to Islam and takes on the name of Rahmatullah. As Rahmatullah knits Telinipara into a community, friendship, love trust and faith are continually tested by the cancer of riots. Incidents—conversion, circumcision, the arrival of the plague of electricity—and a fascinating array of characters: the ultimate Brahmin, Rahmatullah's friend Girija Maharaj; the worker's leader, Bauna Sardar; the storyteller, Talat Mian; the poet-teacher, Syed Ashfaque; the smiling mendicant, Burha Deewana; the sincere Sahib, Simon Hogg; and then the questioning, demanding third generation of the author and his friend Kamala, interlink into a narrative of social history as well as a powerful memoir. Blood Brothers is a chronicle of its age, its canvas as enchanting as its narrative, a personal journey through change as tensions build, stretching the bonds of a lifetime to breaking point and demanding, in the end, the greatest sacrifice. Its last chapters, written in a bare-bones, unemotional style, are the most moving as the author searches for hope amid raw wounds with a surgeon's scalpel.

    The curtain has been brought down on it. Two life-sentences have been run. And I have brought together my recollections of them within the cover of this book. They are narrated in brief and put together within the narrowest.When I came into this world, God sent me here possibly on a sort of life-sentence. It was the span of life allotted to me by time to stay in this ‘prison-house of life’. This story is but a chapter of that book of life, which is a longer story not yet ended. You can finish reading the book in a day, while I had to live it for 14 long years of transportation. And if the story is so tiresome, unendurable and disgusting to you, how much must have been the living of it for me! Every moment of those 14 years in that jail has been an agony of the soul and the body to me, and to my fellow convicts in that jail. It was not only fatiguing, unbearable and futile to us all, it was equally or more excruciating to them as to me. And it is only that you may know it and feel the fatigue, the disgust and the pain of it as we have felt it, that I have chosen to write it for you. —Excerpts from this bookThis is the story of Swatantrayaveer Vinayak Damodar Savarkar—a great revolutionary, politician, poet and seer who tried to free India from the British yoke!British policy was to torture and persecute the political prisoners/revolutionaries so that they would reveal the names of all their colleagues or go mad or commit suicide. My Transportation for Life is a firsthand story of the sufferings and humiliation of an inmate of the infamous Cellular Jail of Andamans, the legendary Kala Paani. The physical tortures inside the high walls were made all the more insufferable by the sickening attitude of the men who mattered—the native leaders back home. This is a running commentary on the prevalent political conditions in India and a treatise for students of revolution. It is a burning story of all Tapasvis who were transported to Andaman.

    A thought provoking novel, in which the normal and the abnormal, the ordinary and the extraordinary, illusion and reality, resignation and desire rub shoulders.

    History writing, especially about the medieval Muslim rule has been fraught with political correctness, controversy, and in several cases, downright falsification. This has occurred mostly with official state patronage. As a result, any attempts to correct this course has been virulently opposed with the result that most urban-educated Indians have now internalized a politically correct version of Indian history. The history of Tipu Sultan too, stands as a glaring instance of this distorted historical narrative. Indeed, we have seen, read, and heard about a lot of people claiming to be freedom fighters and receiving pensions from the Government. Several of these worthies would not have been born before Independence yet they succeed in such blatant manipulations. There are instances of portraying certain rulers and chieftains as true heroes who fought against the British Empire. One such ruler happens to be Tipu Sultan. Tipu Sultan is widely known as the Tiger of Mysore. Indeed, the image of Tipu battling a tiger barehanded crosses the mind whenever his name is mentioned. But is this the truth? Was Tipu Sultan truly the warrior as he has been portrayed? What exactly is his record of fighting the British? Was he really a freedom fighter as is widely claimed? Sandeep Balakrishna in this well-researched book, explores both the myths and the truth surrounding Tipu Sultan. A must-read for those who wish to learn the true story of Tipu Sultan.

    His views on Narendra Modi, Arvind Kejriwal and the Nehru–Gandhi dynasty, and his decoding of coalition politics and the significant changes ushered in by the 2014 Lok Sabha elections, are expressed with his characteristic sharp insights, wit and wisdom. So too are his analyses of the sweeping changes taking place in the print and TV media, and his pen portraits of personalities such as Ratan Tata, Niira Radia, Khushwant Singh, Sachin Tendulkar and Arundhati Roy. Other chapters examine the lack of humour in our political life, the changing aspirations of the Indian middle class, and the mistakes and regrets of his life. Peppered with anecdotes and gossip, every page of this honest, lively and irreverent book is both illuminating and entertaining.

    Reader will then seek to be more humane henceforth in life, What else is the intent of all good literature? Creating new kinship among mankind and free the society from artificial and vexing bonds, right? The same can be said for all Pawar’s literature."

    A week passed. President Amin then summoned the minister and asked, 'Did you carry out my orders?' He replied saying that there was a problem. 'What problem?' the president inquired. 'Your Excellency, there is a country called Cyprus.The people are called Cypriots. If Uganda were to be called Idi, we would be called Idiots.' There are few leaders that K. Natwar Singh, in a diplomatic career spanning more than three decades, has not known -and fewer still about whom he has no story to tell. In Walking with Lions: Tales from a Diplomatic Past, Singh puts together fifty episodes that entertain, inform and illuminate.Featured here is Indira Gandhi as a statesman and friend, alongside other renowned figures such as Fidel Castro, Haile Selassie and Zia-ul-Haq. Singh analyses some personalities with disarming candour, among them Morarji Desai and Lord Mountbatten; at other times, his admiration for leaders like C. Rajagopalalchari and Nelson Mandela shines through. In these pages you will also find a rare, fascinating glimpse of Godman Chandraswami and his cohort Mamaji, and their interaction with a surprisingly submissive Iron Lady Margaret Thatcher. Besides, there are short tributes to artists, writers, cricketers and film stars, like M.F. Husain, Nadine Gordimer, Don Bradman and Dev Anand. Recounted with empathy and humour, this collection of stories from contemporary history is a warm, unaffected and reassuring reminder that the great too can be as fallible as the rest of us.

    There was immediate uproar. The incident was, in many ways, the culmination of a life of youthful rebellion and brash sexuality that Protima, the scandalous model and wife of the rising star of Bollywood, Kabir Bedi, had lived ever since she ran away from home to live ‘in sin’. Barely four years later, the glamorous flower child had reinvented herself as an accomplished classical dancer, a devotee of Goddess Kali, and chosen the sari over slit skirts and halter-necks Shortly before her death, she had shaved her head and decided on a monk’s life. She died in August 1998, in a landslide in the Himalayas while on a pilgrimage to Kailash Mansarovar, leaving behind her most lasting achievement—a flourishing dance village, Nrityagram, where students continue to learn the classical dance styles of India Few lives have been more eventful and controversial than Protima Bedi’s, and Timepass, derived from her unfinished autobiography, journals and her letters to family, friends and lovers, is a startlingly frank and passionate memoir. Protima recounts with unflinching honesty the events that shaped her life: her humiliation as a child at being branded the ugly duckling, repeated rape by a cousin when she was barely ten, the failure of her ‘open’ marriage with Kabir Bedi, her many sexual encounters, and the romantic relationships she had with prominent politicians and artistes. She writes, too, of her involvement with dance, her relationship with her guru and fellow dancers, the difficult mission of establishing Nrityagram, and the suicide of her son—a tragedy from which she never fully recovered. In a moving afterword to the book, her daughter, Pooja Bedi, describes her last days and the circumstances of her death. Illustrated with over fifty photographs, Timepass is the story of a remarkable woman who had the spirit, the courage and the intelligence to live life entirely on her own terms.