This is not a cook book. This is not a story book either. This is a story telling cookbook.. a journey of life which is so normal that it feels like your own kitchen, your own story, your own life. Enjoy and do scribble your stories too. Life needs to be celebrated. We are lucky to have "The Gift of Life".

Part of a series of cookbooks, this work features a collection of paneer dishes including exotic paneer and lemon grass.

Considered to be the father of the Kannada short story, Masti s direct narration and sympathetic understanding of human nature make his stories evergreen. U R Anantha Murthy describes this Sahitya Akademi Awardee as one who has a gentle and profound insight into what lasts in India, and what elements inherent in human nature threaten it ... the best in traditions of the East and the West have gone into the making of his liberal humanist philosophy.

I have planned and designed this representative Anthology of Kannada short Stories in English (Fifteen stories).My main objective is to offer the best short stories in English. The seeds of Kannada short story as a literary form can be traced back to Katha Sarasttisagara, Panchantantra, Jataka tales and great oral folk legends and wonderful tales. Some of the oral and written stories were carried to the West mostly by traders, wanderers, monks and cultural ambassadors. They also carried with them the two greatest epics like Ramayana and Mahabharata, Vedas and Upanishads. The travellers brought back the great stories/epics of the West like Illiad, Odyssey and Biblical stories. With the invention of printing press in Germany in 16th century it became possible to reach out to countries far and wide through the medium of print. The short story as a genre developed steadily over the centuries and it lost its amorphous body and acquired a well defined order, arrangement and form.

Immerse yourself in the rich tapestry of Mughal history with "Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri: or Memoirs of Jahangir," translated by Alexander Rogers and edited by Henry Beveridge. Journey back in time to the splendor of the Mughal Empire as Emperor Jahangir himself recounts his extraordinary life and reign. Step into the opulent courts of Hindustan as Jahangir, one of the greatest rulers of the Mughal dynasty, shares his intimate reflections, personal anecdotes, and political insights. Through Rogers' masterful translation and Beveridge's meticulous editing, readers are transported to a world of intrigue, romance, and power. As you delve into the pages of "Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri," you'll encounter a wealth of fascinating stories and historical anecdotes, from Jahangir's legendary love for his wife Nur Jahan to his encounters with foreign dignitaries and adventurers. Rogers and Beveridge's scholarly expertise and attention to detail bring Jahangir's memoirs to life with vivid clarity and authenticity. With its blend of personal memoir and historical chronicle, "Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri: or Memoirs of Jahangir" offers readers a unique glimpse into the life and times of one of the most fascinating figures in Indian history. Jahangir's candid reflections and keen observations provide valuable insights into the politics, culture, and society of the Mughal Empire. Since its publication, "Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri" has been celebrated as a literary masterpiece and a priceless historical document. Rogers' evocative translation and Beveridge's insightful annotations make this volume an indispensable resource for scholars, historians, and enthusiasts of Mughal history. As you journey through the pages of Jahangir's memoirs, you'll find yourself captivated by his wit, wisdom, and larger-than-life personality. Whether you're a student of history or simply curious about the rich heritage of India's past, this volume offers a treasure trove of knowledge and enlightenment. In conclusion, "Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri: or Memoirs of Jahangir" is more than just a historical document—it's a testament to the enduring legacy of one of India's greatest emperors. Whether you're a scholar, a history buff, or simply a lover of great literature, this volume offers a captivating glimpse into a world of majesty, intrigue, and romance. Don't miss your chance to explore the world of Jahangir's memoirs with Alexander Rogers and Henry Beveridge. Order your copy today and embark on a journey through the pages of one of history's most fascinating autobiographies.

Till he was 28 years old, no child of my father had lived, and he was continually praying for the survival of a son to dervishes and recluses, by whom spiritual approach to the throne of Allah is obtained. As the great master, K͟hwāja Muʿīnu-d-dīn Chis͟htī, was the fountain-head of most of the saints of India, he considered that in order to obtain this object he should have recourse to his blessed threshold, and resolved within himself that if Almighty God should bestow a son on him he would, by way of complete humility, go on foot from Agra to his blessed mausoleum, a distance of 140 kos. In A.H. 977, on Wednesday, 17th Rabīʿu-l-awwal (August 31st, 1569), when seven g͟harī of the aforesaid day had passed, when Libra (Mīzān) had risen to the 24th degree, God Almighty brought me into existence from the hiding-place of nothingness. At the time when my venerated father was on the outlook for a son, a dervish of the name of S͟haik͟h Salīm, a man of ecstatic condition, who had traversed many of the stages of life, had his abode on a hill near Sīkrī, one of the villages of Agra, and the people of that neighbourhood had complete trust in him. As my father was very submissive to dervishes, he also visited him. One day, when waiting on him and in a state of distraction, he asked him how many sons he should have. The S͟haik͟h replied, “The Giver who gives without being asked will bestow three sons on you.” My father said, “I have made a vow that, casting my first son on the skirt of your favour, I will make your friendship and kindness his protector and preserver.” The S͟haik͟h accepted this idea, and said, “I congratulate you, and I will give him my own name.” When my mother came near the time of her delivery, he (Akbar) sent her to the S͟haik͟h’s house that I might be born there. After my birth they gave me the name of Sultan Salīm, but I never heard my father, whether in his cups or in his sober moments, call me Muḥammad Salīm or Sultan Salīm, but always S͟haik͟hū Bābā. My revered father, considering the village of Sīkrī, which was the place of my birth, lucky for him, made it his capital. In the course of fourteen or fifteen years that hill, full of wild beasts, became a city containing all kinds of gardens and buildings, and lofty, elegant edifices and pleasant places, attractive to the heart. After the conquest of Gujarāt this village was named Fatḥpūr. When I became king it occurred to me to change my name, because this resembled that of the Emperor of Rūm. An inspiration from the hidden world brought it into my mind that, inasmuch as the business of kings is the controlling of the world, I should give myself the name of Jahāngīr (World-seizer) and make my title of honour (laqab) Nūru-d-dīn, inasmuch as my sitting on the throne coincided with the rising and shining on the earth of the great light (the Sun). I had also heard, in the days when I was a prince, from Indian sages, that after the expiration of the reign and life of King Jalālu-d-dīn Akbar one named Nūru-d-dīn would be administrator of the affairs of the State. Therefore I gave myself the name and appellation of Nūru-d-dīn Jahāngīr Pāds͟hāh. As this great event took place in Agra, it is necessary that some account of that city should be given.