There is not very much that Nilekani tells us about our past that we do not already know. We know, for instance, that the Licence Raj stemmed from political myopia swathed in socialism and having too little democracy (as he describes it) rather than the oft-repeated story of us being more democratic than China.

The book’s novelty is in the fresh analytics and diagnosis of the past. Nilekani argues effectively that while we have established icons of higher education in the form of IITs and IIMs, we also have the highest number of school dropouts. And while we excel at building roads for private use, such as those at Infosys’ campus, there is almost a willingness to surrender to mediocrity when it comes to issues for the larger public good. Hence, he makes the argument that the India we have seen till date is one where the idea of democracy is merely political rhetoric; not something that has actually helped the poorest of the poor.

Equally insightful is the manner in which Nilekani strings together conversations at Davos to street-side conversations and the many chats he has had with the Ramanathans of Janagraha or the eye-balling with the two black labradors of one of India’s eminent thinkers, Ramachandra Guha. These conversations — Nilekani has interviewed more than 120 people for the book — give the book a human touch because they capture the diversity of thinkers who are all focused on building a better India. The book also scores because it does not berate people for not having done things we should have, but instead looks at the powerful ideas that remain incomplete owing to poor implementation or no implementation.

Nandan Nilekani is co-chairman of Infosys Technologies, which he co-founded in 1981. A graduate of IIT Bombay, Nilekani has come to symbolise the visionary entrepreneurs of India’s IT industry. In 2006, he was appointed to the World Economic Forum foundation board. He has frequently been listed among the world’s most influential businessmen by magazines such as Time and Forbes.

In the area of individual responsibility, he reveals the learnings he gained from his first foray into public policy, chairing the Bangalore Action Task Force. Here, he talks of the many difficulties he had to contend with, including an opinionated bureaucracy. And there are moments of delicious irony where Nilekani writes about meetings with politicians and union leaders who publicly decried computerisation even though they had children studying the same in the US!

I believe this book is a wake-up call in print; one that tells the story as it is and suggests changes so that we do have a happy ending. I was particularly worried when he shared a poll of village children who were asked to talk about their ambitions. Some aspired to be police officers, others doctors and computers (the simplistic word meaning ‘BPO staffer’); but not one said farmer. This is telling in a country where a majority of the population still earns its living by tilling the soil.

Imagining India will remain relevant for a long, long time because in the past, many of the stories of our achievements have been told by their creators. From M.S. Swaminathan to N. Vittal to N. Gopalaswami, they all find a place in this book as do Montek Singh Ahluwalia and P. Chidambaram. To me, this is a story told by one of India’s greatest dreamers who, having realised his dreams, is now impatient to help his countrymen realise theirs. And he does this by not just highlighting the issues but by also helping pave the way; much in the way he helped renovate Hostel #8 of IIT Bombay, where today’s co-chairman of Infosys spent his formative years.

Suhel Seth is managing partner, Counselage

Bhushan’s autobiography is a touching one for its simplicity as he narrates the story of a boy with uncomplicated dreams and aspirations. His gradual progress leads him to become the law minister during the most controversial period of India’s post-Independent history — after the Emergency. And although these times kept him busy, his contributions to the Indian legal practice cannot be overlooked, especially in areas of public interest.

Readers get a glimpse of various facets of Bhushan’s life where he played the roles of a political and social activist with equal conviction. He was not only a pillar of support for his family, but also a loving husband who was heart-broken after the death of his wife. Taking a fearless stance, despite obvious political pressures, Bhushan’s life story serves as inspiration not only for budding lawyers, but for all people who want to stand up for their rights.

Another gem for legal eagles is a personal narrative of various Supreme Court cases that have had far-reaching effects on the legal and political arena of our society.
Supriya Mahajan

Dhondy has a gift for wry recollection, colloquial language and a narrative that flows with unselfconscious ease. His storytelling skills never miss a beat through Thhat’s effortless pursuit of assorted scams or ‘experiments’, all of which are populated with daft prey. One also wonders if criminals of Sobhraj’s (the comparison is inevitable) world-renown are really wont to, as Thhat himself paraphrases TV-reporter and sometime lover Virginie’s question, “take a life for fifty or hundred dollars?” The answer, here as with Pradhan’s later probing, remains obscure. Thhat remains, albeit unwillingly, “a kind of murderous, sad monk”. In this, Dhondy’s denial finally begins to ring true.

It will be an effort not to judge this book by its irksomely risqué and tacky cover, which works better behind some old newspaper.
Lalitha Sridhar

Fans will be glad to hear that his ability to paint pictures with words remains strong well into his 60s.

(Businessworld Issue 02-08 Dec 2008)