Such Stuff We Are Made Of

Vast urban metropolises urgently honk to attract attention, but this is not the true India. In hundreds of thousands of dusty rural villages, life progresses as it always has with each seed placed at its proper depth in the ground at what according to tradition is the most auspicious moment. Hindu texts inform us that the Gods themselves lived in much the same manner at the dawn of civilization. The rich vibrant culture has grown a thick seemingly impenetrable turf which over the centuries has prevented would-be conquerors from taking permanent root. Mother India was, is, and ever shall be. All else is mere illusion - rudely blowing its horn before moving on. Dr. Alex Paikada's masterpiece novel, Such Stuff We Are Made Of, searches for, finds, and celebrates the real India in the guise of a nameless Madrasi philosopher who steadfastly refuses to be intimidated by the corrupt forces of Western culture and globalization.