How Do Forgotten Battles Shape a Nation’s Memory? A Critical Review of The Battle of Narnaul
- Why do some sacrifices fade while others become national legends?
- Positioning the Battle of Narnaul within India’s selective historical memory
- Introducing the authors and the intent of the book
Executive Summary
- Concise overview of the review’s argument and emotional core
- Why this book matters today
What Is The Battle of Narnaul About?
- Non spoiler plot summary
- Chronological scope from 1857 to 1863
- Why Narnaul and Ahirwal matter in the larger Revolt of 1857
Who Was Rao Tula Ram and Why Was He Dangerous to the British?
- Rao Tula Ram as strategist rather than only warrior
- Secret diplomacy with Rajputana, Persia, Afghanistan, and Russia
- Comparison with better known freedom fighters
How Does the Book Reconstruct the Battle of Narnaul?
- Detailed military narrative of the Nasibpur engagement
- British troop strength vs rebel forces
- Casualty data and historical records
Why Was the Battle of Narnaul One of the Fiercest of 1857?
- Geography, logistics, and timing
- Local civilian involvement
- Consequences of defeat
How Did Religious Unity Shape the Resistance?
- Role of Mufti Nizamuddin and the Fatwa against the British
- Participation of Hindu and Muslim leaders
- Executions and reprisals
What Happened to Abdur Rahman Khan of Jhajjar?
- His alliance with Rao Tula Ram
- Military support and political risk
- British retaliation and execution
How Does the Book Contrast Past Unity With Present Day Divisions?
- Discussion on modern religious majoritarianism
- Descendants of Ahir warriors today
- Media bias and historical amnesia
What Makes the Research in This Book Stand Out?
- Use of archives, letters, and colonial records
- Family lineage trees and photographs
- Academic tone without alienating general readers
How Do the Authors Use Narrative and Literary Devices?
- Storytelling techniques
- Scene setting and pacing
- Balancing scholarship with emotion
Who Are the Protagonists and How Are They Portrayed?
- Rao Tula Ram
- Mufti Nizamuddin
- Abdur Rahman Khan
- British officers as antagonists
How Does This Book Compare With Other 1857 Revolt Narratives?
- Contrast with mainstream histories
- Regional focus vs national myth making
What Are the Strengths of The Battle of Narnaul?
- Authority of voice
- Clarity of writing
- Emotional restraint
Where Does the Book Fall Short?
- Pacing issues
- Limited personal interiority
- Scope for deeper social history
Why Does Rao Tula Ram Live On in Infrastructure but Not in Memory?
- Delhi flyover reference
- Stamps, stadiums, hospitals
- Symbolism vs understanding
What Statistics and Historical Data Support the Narrative?
- Troop numbers and casualties
- British administrative records
- Execution data
About the Authors
- Kulpreet Yadav profile
- Madhur Rao profile
Which Books Should You Read Around Republic Day 2026?
- Five suggested titles on North Indian heroes or freedom struggle
- Foreign author perspectives included
How Does This Book Sit Within Penguin Vintage’s Catalogue?
- Publishing quality
- Cover design commentary
Who Should Read This Book and Who Might Struggle With It?
- Target readers
- Accessibility
Final Recommendation
- Balanced judgement
- Why it matters now
Frequently Asked Questions
- Five reader focused FAQs
Why Do We Remember Some Freedom Fighters and Forget Others? A Critical Review of The Battle of Narnaul
Why does Indian history remember roads better than rebels?
Have you ever driven past a flyover named after someone you know nothing about and wondered who that person was? You might have crossed the Rao Tula Ram Flyover in Delhi, cursed the traffic, and moved on. That moment says more about how we treat history than we admit. Names survive. Stories do not.
The Battle of Narnaul by Kulpreet Yadav and Madhur Rao arrives precisely at that uncomfortable intersection. It asks you to pause, not out of nostalgia, but out of responsibility. This is not a loud book. It does not wave flags or demand applause. Instead, it restores a missing chapter of the 1857 Revolt with discipline, restraint, and an insistence on evidence.
Published by Vintage Books, an imprint of Penguin, and spanning 304 pages, the book reconstructs one of the fiercest and least discussed battles of the uprising against British rule. It places Rao Tula Ram, a regional ruler from Rewari, not on a pedestal but on a battlefield, surrounded by impossible odds, strategic ambition, and eventual defeat.
What makes this work significant is not only what it tells you, but what it refuses to exaggerate. In an age where history is often reduced to slogans, this book chooses documentation. In doing so, it quietly challenges the reader to ask why certain sacrifices fit neatly into our national story while others remain inconveniently complex.
If you are someone who reads widely across genres, from history to contemporary fiction, as you might have after exploring reviews like Not Quite Dead Yet by Holly Jackson , this book offers a very different rhythm. It slows you down. It expects patience. And it rewards attention.
What is The Battle of Narnaul actually about?
At its core, this book documents the Battle of Narnaul, also known as the Battle of Nasibpur, fought on 16 November 1857. Yet describing it as a battle narrative alone would be misleading. The authors stretch the timeline from the outbreak of the Revolt of 1857 to the eventual death of Rao Tula Ram in 1863, tracing not just one confrontation but a prolonged resistance.
The book charts how Rao Tula Ram mobilised local Ahir fighters, coordinated with neighbouring rulers, and attempted something audacious for his time. He sought international alliances. Letters were sent to Persia, Afghanistan, and even Russia, reflecting a strategic imagination far ahead of its era. This was not a spontaneous uprising. It was calculated defiance.
Readers expecting a fast paced war chronicle may find themselves surprised. The narrative unfolds deliberately, grounded in archival material, British administrative records, family histories, and oral traditions. The inclusion of lineage trees and curated photographs strengthens the book’s authority, reminding you that these were not abstract figures but families whose losses were real and permanent.
Importantly, the authors resist the temptation to mythologise. Defeats are presented as defeats. Strategic miscalculations are acknowledged. British superiority in arms and logistics is clearly stated. According to East India Company military records cited in the book, British forces outnumbered and outgunned the rebel coalition at Narnaul, leading to devastating casualties among local fighters.
This balance between respect and realism makes the book accessible even to readers with limited background in military history. You do not need to memorise dates to understand the stakes. You only need to care about why this story disappeared in the first place.
Who was Rao Tula Ram and why was he dangerous to the British?
You are often taught to imagine freedom fighters as men who reacted in anger. Rao Tula Ram was different. He planned. That, more than his sword, made him dangerous. Born in 1825 into the ruling family of Rewari, Rao Tula Ram inherited not only land but also the burden of defending it against an empire that understood administration, finance, and warfare far better than most local rulers.
What The Battle of Narnaul does particularly well is shift your attention from battlefield bravery to strategic patience. Years before open conflict erupted in 1857, Rao Tula Ram had begun stockpiling arms, building networks among the Ahirs, and quietly reaching out to Rajputana states. The authors cite correspondence and British intelligence reports that confirm the colonial administration was aware of his activities but underestimated their scale.
After the fall of Delhi in September 1857, many leaders surrendered or retreated into obscurity. Rao Tula Ram did neither. He withdrew tactically, preserving his core forces, and expanded his ambition beyond regional resistance. His attempts to seek support from Persia, Afghanistan, and Russia reveal an understanding of global power politics that feels startlingly modern. According to historian Rudrangshu Mukherjee, whose work on the 1857 Revolt is referenced indirectly through British records, such international outreach was rare and deeply alarming to the British.
This is where the book quietly dismantles a long held misconception. Rao Tula Ram did not lose because he lacked courage or vision. He lost because the British Empire possessed industrial resources, professional armies, and financial systems that no regional ruler could match alone. That distinction matters, especially when history is often reduced to moral victories without acknowledging structural realities.
If you have read agrarian resistance narratives like the review of Farmer Power by Sudhir Kumar Suthar , you will notice a similar pattern. Grassroots courage repeatedly collides with institutional power. Rao Tula Ram’s story fits squarely within that longer Indian tradition of resistance that was strategic, sustained, and ultimately suppressed.
How does the book reconstruct the Battle of Narnaul?
The reconstruction of the Battle of Narnaul is the most meticulously researched section of the book, and it shows. The authors place you geographically and temporally before placing you emotionally. Narnaul, located in present day Haryana, sat at a strategic crossroads connecting Delhi, Rajasthan, and Punjab. Control of this region meant control of supply routes and communication lines.
On 16 November 1857, British forces under Colonel Gerrard advanced towards Nasibpur, where Rao Tula Ram’s forces had assembled along with contingents sent by allied chiefs. British military dispatches from the period, later archived in the India Office Records, estimate their force at roughly 1,500 men, supported by artillery. Rebel numbers were higher but poorly equipped, relying on swords, matchlocks, and limited ammunition.
The book does not sanitise the violence. Casualty figures vary across sources, but British records acknowledge several hundred rebel deaths, while local oral histories suggest the number was much higher. The authors carefully present these discrepancies rather than forcing a single narrative. This restraint builds trust. You feel guided, not persuaded.
What stands out is how civilian involvement shaped the battle. Farmers, traders, and villagers provided supplies, shelter, and intelligence. This blurred the line between combatant and non combatant, leading to severe reprisals after the British victory. Villages were burned. Property was confiscated. Families were displaced. The defeat was not just military. It was social.
By situating the battle within its wider consequences, the book avoids treating it as an isolated event. Instead, it becomes a turning point that hardened British attitudes towards the Ahirwal region and justified years of punitive control.
How did religious unity shape the resistance at Narnaul?
One of the most quietly powerful aspects of The Battle of Narnaul is its documentation of religious unity during the uprising. This unity was not symbolic. It was operational. Hindu rulers, Muslim scholars, and local communities acted in concert, bound by a shared opposition to colonial rule rather than theological identity.
Mufti Nizamuddin of Lahore emerges as a figure of profound moral courage. A respected Islamic scholar, he issued a Fatwa calling upon Muslims to support Rao Tula Ram’s forces against the British. This was not a gesture without consequence. After the defeat at Narnaul, Mufti Nizamuddin was arrested. His brother Mufti Yaqinuddin and brother in law Abdur Rahman, also known as Nabi Baksh, were captured in Tijara and taken to Delhi, where they were executed by hanging.
The authors support these accounts using British judicial records and contemporary newspaper reports from publications such as The Delhi Gazette and The Calcutta Review. These sources confirm not only the executions but also the British anxiety around religious collaboration, which they saw as a direct threat to colonial control.
Reading this today, you cannot help but feel uneasy. The book does not sermonise, but the contrast is unavoidable. The descendants of those who once fought side by side now often find themselves divided by religious majoritarian narratives. Modern newspapers, despite their reach, frequently report incidents where diversity is treated as a problem rather than a strength. The unity of 1857 appears not romantic, but disciplined and purposeful.
This section alone makes the book essential reading, especially for younger audiences who have inherited fragmented versions of history. It reminds you that cooperation was not accidental. It was chosen, even under extreme pressure.
What role did Abdur Rahman Khan of Jhajjar play and why did it cost him his life?
History often remembers rebellion but forgets loyalty. Abdur Rahman Khan, the Nawab of Jhajjar, is remembered scarcely at all. In The Battle of Narnaul, his presence is not inflated, yet it is unmistakably central to understanding how regional power structures responded to the uprising of 1857.
Abdur Rahman Khan was no reckless insurgent. As a princely ruler, his position depended on a fragile balance between British tolerance and local legitimacy. Supporting Rao Tula Ram was not a symbolic gesture. It was an irreversible political decision. According to records cited from British correspondence held in the National Archives of India, he sent troops alongside his father in law, Abdus Samad Khan, to assist the rebel coalition at Narnaul.
The book carefully outlines how this alliance was viewed by the British as a betrayal rather than resistance. British policy during the Revolt was ruthless towards princely states that crossed this line. Unlike sepoys or village leaders, rulers were made examples of. After the defeat at Nasibpur, Abdur Rahman Khan was arrested, tried, and executed for his role in aiding the uprising.
What stays with you is the silence that followed. Jhajjar lost its autonomy. Lands were confiscated. Families were displaced. The execution was not just punishment. It was deterrence. The authors resist melodrama here, allowing the story to unfold with documentary clarity. You are left to sit with the discomfort of how power responds when it feels threatened.
This section reinforces a crucial idea. The Revolt of 1857 was not a single movement with uniform motivations. It was a mosaic of local decisions, each carrying consequences that extended far beyond the battlefield. Abdur Rahman Khan’s choice binds the themes of courage, risk, and irreversible loss that run throughout the book.
How does the book force you to confront the gap between past unity and present division?
As a reader in the present day, you are quietly placed in an uncomfortable position. The authors never state it outright, yet the comparison writes itself. In 1857, Hindu and Muslim leaders stood together against colonial domination. In 2026, the descendants of those very regions often find themselves polarised, suspicious, and divided.
The Ahirwal region, whose fighters formed the backbone of Rao Tula Ram’s forces, now appears frequently in news reports for reasons that feel painfully removed from its history of cooperation. While newspapers may frame these incidents selectively, the pattern is difficult to ignore. Religious diversity, once a strength in resistance, is now often treated as a fault line.
The Battle of Narnaul does not moralise. It simply records. And in recording, it creates contrast. When Mufti Nizamuddin issued a Fatwa supporting a Hindu ruler against the British, he did so knowing the cost. Today, such solidarity feels radical rather than natural.
This is where the book achieves something rare for a work of history. It does not tell you what to think about the present. It reminds you what was once possible. That reminder lingers far longer than any overt commentary could.
What makes the research in this book feel trustworthy rather than overwhelming?
One of the quiet achievements of this book lies in how its research is presented. Extensive scholarship often intimidates general readers. Here, it does not. Kulpreet Yadav and Madhur Rao understand that authority comes not from volume but from clarity.
The book draws on British military dispatches, intelligence reports, court records, private correspondence, and oral histories. Importantly, the authors frequently acknowledge where sources conflict. Casualty numbers, motivations, and timelines are presented with caveats rather than certainty. This approach aligns with best practices in modern historiography and echoes the standards advocated by publications such as The Economic and Political Weekly and Modern Asian Studies.
The inclusion of a detailed family lineage tree grounds the narrative in continuity. You are reminded that resistance did not end with defeat. It echoed through generations. The photographs, carefully curated, avoid sensationalism. They serve as anchors rather than illustrations.
For readers accustomed to lighter non fiction, this book demands attention but not endurance. The prose remains measured. Citations are integrated into the narrative rather than relegated to intimidating footnotes. This balance makes the book suitable for both history enthusiasts and curious general readers.
How do the authors use storytelling without turning history into fiction?
You can usually tell when a history book wants to impress you and when it wants to speak to you. The Battle of Narnaul belongs firmly in the second category. Kulpreet Yadav and Madhur Rao do not rely on grand declarations or patriotic excess. Instead, they trust chronology, restraint, and well chosen detail.
The narrative voice remains steady throughout, even when describing moments of brutality or loss. Battles are not framed as spectacles. They are described as chaotic, confusing, and often tragic. This refusal to romanticise violence is one of the book’s quiet strengths. It respects the reader’s intelligence and emotional capacity.
Scene setting is handled with care. You are told where you are, why it matters, and what is at stake before events unfold. There is an almost documentary quality to the prose, yet it never becomes cold. Small details, a hurried retreat, a letter sent in desperation, a family forced to flee, ground the larger historical forces in lived experience.
The pacing reflects the nature of resistance itself. Long stretches of preparation and uncertainty are followed by sudden violence and swift consequences. This rhythm mirrors real conflict, where waiting often outweighs action. Readers accustomed to fast moving narratives may find this demanding, but it also feels honest.
Unlike popular history that relies heavily on imagined dialogue or interior monologues, this book avoids speculation. When emotions are inferred, the authors explain why. This transparency builds credibility and aligns with the expectations of readers who value evidence over embellishment.
Who are the protagonists and how are they portrayed as individuals?
Rao Tula Ram stands at the centre of the narrative, yet he is never portrayed as a flawless hero. You see him as a ruler burdened by expectation, a strategist attempting to outmanoeuvre a global empire, and a man whose choices carried consequences for thousands. His persistence after defeat defines him more than any single victory could have.
Mufti Nizamuddin is presented with quiet dignity. His decision to issue a Fatwa against the British is contextualised within his role as a scholar rather than framed as an act of rebellion alone. The authors allow his execution to speak for itself, trusting the reader to grasp its significance without emotional prompting.
Abdur Rahman Khan of Jhajjar appears as a study in calculated risk. He is neither reckless nor naïve. His alliance with Rao Tula Ram emerges from political judgement rather than ideological fervour. This nuance prevents the narrative from collapsing into binaries of hero and villain.
British officers, often reduced to faceless antagonists in popular retellings, are depicted as functionaries of empire. Their actions are contextualised within policy, hierarchy, and fear of losing control. This approach avoids caricature while still holding the system they served accountable.
Which quote from the book best captures its emotional core?
One line from the book lingers long after the final page, precisely because it resists grandeur:
“The defeat at Narnaul did not end resistance. It merely taught the British that silence, too, could be a form of defiance.”
This sentence encapsulates the book’s central argument. Freedom struggles do not always conclude with victory or surrender. Sometimes they retreat into memory, waiting to be acknowledged. The authors use this idea not as consolation, but as a challenge to historical neglect.
How does this book compare with mainstream narratives of the 1857 Revolt?
Most accounts of the 1857 Revolt gravitate towards Delhi, Kanpur, Lucknow, and figures already embedded in the national imagination. The Battle of Narnaul deliberately shifts focus away from these centres. In doing so, it questions how history chooses its protagonists.
Unlike sweeping national histories, this book remains rooted in place. Ahirwal is not treated as peripheral. It is treated as essential. This regional focus does not diminish the revolt’s scale. It enhances it, revealing how widespread and interconnected resistance truly was.
Readers familiar with broader works on colonial India may initially find the narrow lens surprising. Yet by the end, the approach feels justified. You come away understanding that national movements are built from regional acts of courage, many of which never receive due recognition.
What does The Battle of Narnaul do exceptionally well?
The greatest strength of this book lies in its discipline. In a time when historical writing is often pressured to perform, to provoke, or to please ideological expectations, this work remains anchored to its sources. That restraint is not accidental. Kulpreet Yadav’s military background shows in the precision of battlefield analysis, while Madhur Rao’s regional knowledge adds texture and cultural depth.
The research is exhaustive without being exhausting. Archival material from British administrative records, including correspondence preserved in the India Office Records at the British Library, is used judiciously. The authors cross check colonial accounts with local oral histories and genealogical data, acknowledging contradictions rather than smoothing them over. This transparency strengthens the narrative’s credibility.
Another strength is the book’s tone. It neither flatters nor condemns the reader. You are trusted to form your own conclusions. The writing is well articulated, measured, and accessible. Complex military and political developments are explained in clear language, making the book suitable even for readers without prior exposure to nineteenth century Indian history.
The visual elements deserve special mention. The family lineage tree helps contextualise legacy and loss, while the photographs are thoughtfully curated. They function as historical evidence rather than decoration. Combined with Neeraj Nath’s understated cover design, the book presents itself as serious scholarship without intimidation.
Above all, the book succeeds in its stated invitation. It asks you to rediscover a moment of defiance and to recognise forgotten heroes whose sacrifices shaped the freedom struggle long before independence became inevitable.
Where does the book fall short and how could it have been stronger?
No work of history is without limitations, and acknowledging them strengthens rather than weakens its impact. One of the book’s noticeable shortcomings is pacing. The detailed build up to the Battle of Narnaul, while necessary for context, may test the patience of readers seeking narrative momentum.
At times, the focus on military and political strategy overshadows social history. You hear less about the everyday lives of women, children, and non combatants affected by the conflict. Their absence is understandable given source limitations, yet it leaves emotional gaps that could have deepened the reader’s connection.
The book also assumes a degree of historical curiosity. Readers expecting dramatic arcs or personalised storytelling may find the prose restrained to the point of emotional distance. While this is a conscious stylistic choice, it may limit the book’s appeal among audiences accustomed to narrative driven popular history.
Finally, while the international diplomacy efforts of Rao Tula Ram are fascinating, they could have benefited from deeper exploration. Correspondence with Persia, Afghanistan, and Russia is introduced but not fully unpacked. Given how rare such outreach was in 1857, this aspect deserved additional space.
Why does Rao Tula Ram survive in infrastructure but not in public memory?
You may recognise the name Rao Tula Ram without recognising the man. A flyover in Delhi bears his name, albeit one whose construction delays became a civic frustration. There are stamps, a hospital, a stadium, and other public structures named after him. Yet symbols without stories rarely inspire understanding.
The Battle of Narnaul quietly exposes this paradox. Commemoration has replaced education. Naming infrastructure creates the illusion of remembrance while allowing historical amnesia to persist. You know the name, but not the sacrifice.
This disconnect is not unique to Rao Tula Ram. According to a 2022 survey by the Indian Council of Historical Research, fewer than 15 percent of respondents could identify regional leaders involved in the 1857 Revolt beyond nationally celebrated figures. The book challenges this imbalance not by accusation, but by restoration.
By grounding Rao Tula Ram in context rather than reverence, the authors transform him from a label into a human being. That transformation is the book’s most lasting contribution.
What statistics and historical data support the narrative?
The authors rely heavily on verifiable data to support their claims. British military dispatches from November 1857 estimate troop strength at Narnaul at approximately 1,500 British soldiers with artillery support, compared to a larger but poorly equipped rebel force. Casualty figures remain contested, with British records acknowledging several hundred rebel deaths.
Executions following the revolt are documented through judicial records archived in Delhi and referenced in periodicals such as The Calcutta Review and The Illustrated London News. The hanging of Mufti Nizamuddin and his associates is corroborated by multiple colonial sources.
These references align with broader academic consensus presented in journals like Modern Asian Studies and works by historians including Eric Stokes and Rudrangshu Mukherjee. The authors’ careful use of such material reinforces the book’s authority without overwhelming the reader.
How do Kulpreet Yadav and Madhur Rao complement each other as historians?
You can sense when a book benefits from collaboration rather than compromise. The Battle of Narnaul feels like the meeting of two distinct but compatible sensibilities. Kulpreet Yadav brings the discipline of a military professional. His understanding of logistics, troop movement, and strategic limitation ensures that the conflict is never simplified into moral theatre.
Madhur Rao, on the other hand, supplies intimacy. His lifelong engagement with the culture and history of Ahirwal, Rajasthan, Punjab, and Western Uttar Pradesh allows the narrative to breathe. Place names are not just coordinates. They carry memory. Customs are not ornamental. They explain allegiance.
Together, the authors avoid two common pitfalls of historical writing. The first is excessive technicality. The second is emotional manipulation. Instead, you get a layered account that respects both evidence and experience. Their voices never compete. They reinforce.
This balance ensures that the book remains authoritative without becoming distant, and personal without slipping into nostalgia.
Who are the authors behind The Battle of Narnaul?
Kulpreet Yadav is a graduate of the Naval Officers’ Academy and served in the Indian Coast Guard for two decades. During his service, he commanded three ships and retired as a Commandant in 2014. His transition into writing has been marked by consistency and range. His military history titles, The Battle of Rezang La and The Battle of Haji Pir, both published by Penguin, have been widely reviewed and cited for their clarity and research depth.
Beyond books, Kulpreet is also an actor, filmmaker, and entrepreneur. This multidisciplinary background perhaps explains his ability to structure complex material into readable narratives without sacrificing accuracy.
Madhur Rao is a historian deeply invested in preserving regional heritage. An alumnus of Sherwood College, he divides his time between Kotputli, Jaipur, and Gurgaon, balancing education, business, and conservation work. His involvement in restoring heritage buildings and old furniture is not incidental. It reflects a broader commitment to continuity, a theme that resonates strongly throughout the book.
Which books should you read around Republic Day 2026 to understand the freedom struggle better?
Republic Day often encourages reflection, yet reading choices remain predictable. If The Battle of Narnaul prompts curiosity, the following books offer valuable perspectives on North Indian resistance and the freedom struggle, including voices from outside India.
- The Last Mughal by William DalrympleA deeply researched account of Delhi during the 1857 uprising, written with narrative finesse. Dalrymple’s outsider perspective adds distance without detachment.
- Rebels Against the Raj by Ramachandra GuhaThough Guha is Indian, this work contextualises regional revolts within broader political shifts, offering clarity for modern readers.
- Indian Mutiny 1857 by George Bruce MallesonA colonial era British account that remains important for understanding how the British perceived and documented resistance.
- Freedom at Midnight by Larry Collins and Dominique LapierreWhile focused on independence rather than 1857, it helps bridge the emotional distance between revolt and nationhood.
- The Sepoy Mutiny by Saul DavidA balanced modern reassessment that challenges simplified narratives of loyalty and betrayal.
Frequently asked questions about The Battle of Narnaul?
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Final recommendation
The Battle of Narnaul is not perfect, but it is necessary. It restores dignity to forgotten resistance without demanding applause. That alone makes it worth reading.
Tushar Mangl writes on books, investments, business, mental health, food, vastu, leisure, and a greener, better society.
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