In “Why I Am a Hindu”, Tharoor gives us a profound book about one of the world's oldest and greatest religions. Starting with a close examination of his own belief in Hinduism, he ranges far and wide in his study of the faith. He looks at the myriad manifestations of political Hinduism in the modern era, including violence committed in the name of the faith by right-wing organisations and their adherents. He is unsparing in his criticism of extremist “bhakts”, and unequivocal in his belief that everything that makes India a great and distinctive culture and the country will be imperilled if religious fundamentalists are allowed to take the upper hand.
In “Pakistan's Nuclear Bomb”, Abbas profiles the politicians and scientists involved in the development of the country's atomic bomb and the role of China and Saudi Arabia in supporting its nuclear infrastructure. Drawing on extensive interviews, the book also unravels the motivation behind the Pakistani nuclear physicist Dr A.Q. Khan's involvement in nuclear proliferation in Iran, Libya and North Korea, and argues that the origins and evolution of the Khan network were tied to the domestic and international political motivations underlying Pakistan's nuclear weapons project and its organisation, oversight and management.
In February 2017, Gurmehar Kaur, a 19- year-old student, joined a peaceful campaign after violent clashes at a Delhi University college. As part of the campaign, Kaur's post made her the target of an onslaught of social media vitriol. Kaur, the daughter of a Kargil war martyr, suddenly became the focal point of a nationalism debate. Facing a trial by social media, Kaur almost retreated into herself. But she was never brought up to be silenced. "Real bullets killed my father. Your hate bullets are deepening my resolve," she wrote at the time. Today, Kaur is doubly determined not to be silent. "Small Acts of Freedom" is her story.
A seemingly random selection of heads of state is struck down like flies by unnamed killers who work with the clinical efficiency of butchers. Except that they leave no trace of their methods. Sanghi returns with another quietly fearsome tale -- this time of men who guard the "Kalachakra" -- The Wheel of Time. Sanghi describes a world of people at war with one another -- a boomeranging conflict of faiths that results in acts of such slow and planned human cruelty that they defy imagination. Zigzagging from Rama's crossing to Lanka to the birth of Buddhism; from the charnel-grounds of naked tantric practitioners to the bespoke suits of the Oval Office; and from the rites of Minerva, shrouded in frankincense, to the smoke-darkened ruins of Nalanda, the mystery novel is a journey that will have you gasping for breath.
The friendship between two teenage boys dissolves in the aftermath of an act of violence typical of the place they live in -- the north Indian town of Muzaffarnagar. A young man comes to the same town to celebrate Diwali with his family and learns that, given his roots, his
cosmopolitanism might not be an option anymore. A young woman, hitherto unburdened by family duties, grapples with the absence of grief upon her father's death. Elsewhere, a recently married couple is pulled apart by a crisis rooted in the woman's traumatic childhood. In Solanki's book of short stories, young men and women travel between the past and the present, the metropolis and the small town, and the always-at-odds needs of life: Solitude and family.
It is not possible to surmise when exactly Tagore started writing "Jibonsmriti" (My Reminiscences). It is generally believed that he was going through its first draft after the publication of the play "Raja" (King, 1910). "Jibonsmriti" was translated into English by Tagore's nephew, Surendranath Tagore, though retouched and slightly changed by the author himself. It was serialised in Ramananda Chattopadhyay's The Modern Review under the title "My Reminiscences" from January to December 1916.
To thwart the attempt by any foreign publisher to publish it, all the issues of The Modern Review carried the declaration, 'All Rights Reserved. Copyrighted in the United States of America'. Interestingly, Tagore himself advised Ramananda Chattopadhyay to mail one copy each of the issues of The Modern Review carrying "My Reminiscences" to W. B. Yeats and Ernest Rhys. In April 1917, it was published as a book by MacMillan, New York, with a colour portrait by Sasi Kumar Hesh as the frontispiece, apart from 12 paintings by Gagnendranath Tagore. The latest translation is by Devabrata Mukherjee and carries an introduction by Nirmal Kanti Bhattacharjee.
Three flatmates in London begin to see how different their lives are and at the same time how similar their backgrounds. And when life begins to deal its rough cards, how easy things become when they are all together!
Ali is a Pakistani chef with the dream of setting up his own nihari restaurant. Shehzad is a cool tattoo artist from Bangladesh with a broken past and Rishi is an Indian with nondescript skills and trying to hide from the world.
They all make one mistake — that of falling in love with the same girl. They become arch-rivals. But when their worlds turn topsy-turvy, they have no one but each other to turn to, learning that love is as much about letting go as it is about possessing. Equally thoughtful as it is entertaining, sensitive as it is quirky, "Love Curry" is a glimpse of life truly at its fullest!
WE FIND RENOWNED author Vikram Seth doing something he usually doesn’t agree to very easily. After all, it isn’t exactly easy for an author concentrating on a much-awaited work to find time and agree to do a book launch for someone he hasn’t met or read any previous work of. But then some situations demand going out of the way and Zarina Bhatty’s book happens to be just one of them. For, it’s not every day that you have an enthusiastic octogenarian Muslim woman, who happens to be the former President of Indian Association for Women's Studies and also that of Young Women’s Christian Association write about her struggles, fighting many stereotypes along the way. Her memoir, Purdah to Piccadilly hit the stands this month. This work took two years to come together and chronicles the life of over eight decades, penned down beautifully by the author. As for the title, Bhatty says, “Reflects my life journey from a burqa-clad young girl who got two degrees from the University of London; Piccadilly really refers to London.” Over 200 pages narrate, among other things, the political and social conditions of undivided and post-Independence India. “I wanted to be honest and just share my story as it were”, says Bhatty.
And honest she has been. In the Preface she writes, “Even after 50 years, I cherish the memory of the day when I was sitting in the Royal Albert Hall and my name was called out. It was an international gathering of students, most of who belonged to the privileged classes, including those from royal families worldwide. I got up to receive my degree from the British Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth, who was then the Chancellor of the University of London. I could not help recalling my humble past as the daughter of a middle-class family who had an illiterate grandmother and a mother who had no schooling and was taught only Urdu at home.”
Purdah to Piccadilly is divided into 14 chapters, begins with the author’s family living in Rudauli, Uttar Pradesh, and is interspersed with personal anecdotes and nostalgia. It gives the reader a glimpse into the mundane life of young Bhatty and her interesting journey that concludes with her moving to Mussoorie, and finding a home in the hills.
No stranger to the written word, Bhatty’s first book, Women’s Role in Beedi Industry was published a decade ago, and was sponsored by Internal Labour Office, Geneva. As for her latest endeavour, she states, “It took me nearly two years to write, as I wrote several drafts,” she tells us while nursing a fractured wrist. “I faced the common dilemma that I suppose most writers of biographies face; that is, how honest must one be in writing about one' family and friends. To respect intellectual honesty, should one risk the displeasure of dear ones?” she asks. Bhatty, the latest entrant to the growing list of authors who have penned their work living in Landour, Mussoorie, gives fascinating accounts of sheer grit, perseverance and determination of a Muslim lady pre- and post-partition India. What would have made the book even more interesting is if there were more photographs and images to compliment the writing, which is a must-read for those who want a flavour of the times gone by.