The ancient, wise ones

Discovering the Vedas: Origins, Mantras, Rituals, Insights (Penguin, Rs 495) by Frits Staal is a courageous attempt to get to the heart of the Vedas. Staal, a logician who is also a bit of a polymath, uses the Oral Tradition and Archaeology to interpret and understand not only the mantras and rituals that make up these ancient texts but also the philosophy and actions on which Vedic society and its people were premised. Staal’s immaculate research also helps dismantle certain erroneous notions about the texts: the Vedas, contrary to popular views, are not a collection of sacred “books”. In fact, they are “oral compositions in a language that was used for ordinary communication”. Incisive and witty, this is a significant addition to the body of work that already exists on the Vedas.

Renuka (Penguin, Rs 250) by Stephen Alter is another kitschy offering from the “Third Culture Kid” stable. The setting is a hill station full of people with rather provincial tastes. Here, Renuka, a Bengali poet, strikes up an unlikely friendship with Rachel, an American missionary, setting in motion a chain of events that tears down the garb of refined tranquillity in that charming locale. Alter’s book, which is supposedly about two women friends overcoming social and religious differences, seems to rely on its erotic quotient more than anything else to succeed.

Simple ways to manage stress (Macmillan, Rs 225) by Promod Batra offers tips to tackle difficult situations. Batra identifies the Guru Mantras, and differentiates between the mysterious “KFP” (Kee Farak Painda) and “BFP” (Bahut Farak Painda) to provide succour from stress.

The 3 mistakes of my life (Rupa, Rs 95) by Chetan Bhagat throws business, cricket and religion together in yet another strange brew, the third from this investment banker-turned-bestselling novelist. This book is about Govind and his entrepreneurial dreams that turn into reality when he, along with his friends Ish and Omi, starts a cricket shop in a city. But the turbulent city has its own trap doors that suddenly swing open to swallow the boys’ dreams. Would Govind and his friends succeed in their mission? More important, would the readers survive such mediocre writing?