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News18
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- News18
The Woman Who Made Bollywood Dance, Tricked Into Marriage At 13, Forced To Convert To Islam
Fondly remembered as 'Masterji', Saroj Khan trained some of Bollywood's biggest stars, from Sridevi, Madhuri Dixit to Karisma Kapoor. Her own life, however, was marked by hardship Today, no Bollywood film seems complete without lively songs and elaborate dance sequences. Directors such as Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Sooraj Barjatya are renowned for their grand sets and opulent choreography. However, long before these visual spectacles became the norm, Saroj Khan brought dance choreography into the limelight and gave it the respect it deserved. At a time when choreographers were often overlooked, she carved a niche for herself and redefined Bollywood dance. Her journey, however, was anything but easy. Fondly remembered as 'Masterji', Saroj Khan trained some of Bollywood's biggest stars, from Sridevi and Madhuri Dixit to Karisma Kapoor. Her own life, however, was marked by hardship. Before she was born, her family fled Pakistan during the Partition and settled in India. Their financial condition deteriorated after migration, and Saroj lost her father at a young age. In a BBC interview, Saroj once shared how her family often went to bed hungry. Her mother would place empty pots on the stove to pretend she was cooking, just so the children would fall asleep peacefully. Worked As Child Artist Saroj began working early to support her family. In a 2016 interview on Doordarshan's show Koshish Se Kamyaabi Tak, she shared that she had to earn to feed her family, educate her siblings, and even arrange their marriages. She worked as a child artist in films, but by the time she turned ten, the offers stopped coming. She was no longer considered a child actor, nor old enough for adult roles. Early Marriage At just 13, she married 43-year-old Sohanlal, a much older man who was already married with four children. Saroj had met him during her early years as a background dancer. He misled the young Saroj and convinced her to marry him. She later gave birth to a daughter who died shortly after birth and had another child with him. It was only later that Saroj Khan discovered Sohanlal's first marriage and his children. She spoke about this painful chapter during an interview with DD, sharing that he refused to acknowledge their marriage publicly. Upon learning the truth, she decided to part ways with him. In 1975, Saroj married Sardar Roshan Khan. Before their marriage, she made it clear that he would have to accept her children as his own. Sardar Khan already had four children, and with Saroj Khan, he had two more. Born as Saroj Kishan Chand Sadhu Singh Nagpal, she converted from Sindhi Punjabi to Islam before marrying Roshan Khan. Saroj once said she felt a deep spiritual connection when her daughter appeared in her dreams, calling her into a mosque. She had a daughter named Kuku with Sohanlal, who sadly passed away in 2011. Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
The Hindu
7 days ago
- Business
- The Hindu
From Coins to QR Codes: How UPI Changed Everyday Transactions
Published : Jul 17, 2025 08:13 IST - 10 MINS READ I can't remember when exactly I started using the Unified Payments Interface (UPI), but it has been a while. I think it was pre-COVID—I had to make a payment to a friend and he suggested I download GPay. I was hesitant and wary at first, as we tend to be with new things, especially when it involves one's bank account, not that there is very much in it, but still. When I sent my first email in 1998, little did I know that it would mark the end of writing letters. Often the dramatic turning points in our lives are not marked in red. We might remember birthdays and death anniversaries, but technological changes have a way of slipping into our lives quietly, like a neighbourhood cat that one day likes you enough to adopt you. From here on, your life will never be the same, except that you don't know it yet. I must have posted one last letter to someone but it's not something recorded in my memory. I wrote a letter, then email entered my life, and I moved forward. Similarly, one innocuous afternoon a skinny lad came and affixed a cable to my parents' Bush Baron black & white TV. I stopped watching Doordarshan and switched to watching The Wonder Years and MTV. I think it was 1994. I never went back to DD. Another instance I can think of is dictionaries. For quick reference we started using online dictionaries, especially while writing; I can't recall the last time I checked a word in the Concise Oxford. I mention this because once in March and twice in April, the National Payments Corporation of India, the body that is responsible for the smooth functioning of UPI, experienced 'intermittent technical issues'. It was a bit like the 'Sorry for the Interruption' sign on DD, except that that sign was a frequent fixture on our screen in the 1980s—we were used to it; the UPI is so reliable that we transitioned seamlessly and take it for granted. Money has ceased to be a tactile thing. Also Read | Digital India must not deny the unlettered access to their own money Everywhere I went—to the supermarket, the kirana store, the cigarette shop—people were desperately trying to make payments but were unable to. The new bar of soap was abandoned, left to fend for itself on the shop counter. That's how dependent we've become on UPI. The UPI being down was a national issue; it trended on X and broadsheets ran editorials. The wallet-keys-watch holy trinity—something we always double checked when leaving home—has long ceased to be holy. Most of us have stopped using cash; carrying a debit card is a hassle, for the debit card needs a wallet, and the wallet's place in one's pocket has been usurped by the phone. ****** UPI is the world's most popular alternative payment method, way ahead of others like Skrill (100+countries), Brazil's Pix and China's Alipay. One of the reasons why UPI became so popular in India is because cash transactions were never easy-peasy. One started the day with a challenge: how will I break a note. If the note was of a high denomination, one was forced to buy things one didn't really need, just to make the process of breaking a note more attractive for the shopkeeper. Change was hoarded like gold. There was another problem: if you were not careful, your fellow Indian would try and palm off a tattered note. Like if the streetlight was not working at the spot where the auto guy dropped you off at night, he might slip in a torn note, or one that was taped together. You couldn't afford to let your guard down because everybody was looking to get rid of their dodgy notes. The law says that all notes, no matter what the condition, are legal tender. That's not the way it worked on the ground. Funny, how a poor country can be so concerned about the aesthetics of currency—how a note looks decides its fate, a bit like how brides are chosen in arranged marriages. One also had to be alert about counting the notes—the payee would give you less money than was actually due. If you caught him out, he'd pass it off as a mistake. My first time in England, I made the mistake of counting the money that the cabbie had returned to me. I did this in front of him, which, I was later told, was a very rude thing to do. He was offended. There, the levels of trust are so high that counting is taken as an insult—are you trying to say that I'd cheat you? Where do you come from? A tradition that was passed down from generation to generation was to hold the note up to light to check for the watermark. We did it out of reflexive habit and no one took offence. Fake currency was a thing, and doing this just showed that you were a thoroughbred Indian insider. It got you streetcred. The act/ process of obtaining the cash was tedious in itself. One had to fill out a withdrawal form or a self-cheque, stand in a queue, before being granted an audience with the cashier, a dreaded, grumpy, frog-like figure with zero princely potential. He would squint at you from behind the counter and nine times out of ten declare that the signature did not match. He would make you do another signature, then scrutinise it like a watchmaker. I always got the sense that the cashier behaved like he owned all the money in the bank; he was not giving you what was rightfully yours, but doing you a favour. In recent times, the cashier's high point came during demonetisation, except that by now he worked in an air-conditioned private bank and had access to a note-counting machine. The skill of licking your finger before counting notes had been made redundant. 'Nowadays, cash is used by two categories of people: the really poor who have no access to a basic smartphone and a bank account, and the really wealthy who still hide their black money in basements and false ceilings. ' Cash came with another problem—of storing it in the house, and how to carry it safely while travelling. A stock of emergency cash would generally be hidden under a pile of clothes in the Godrej almirah. It was an open secret known to burglars. When travelling long-distance, my father would wear a vest with an inside pocket where the notes were concealed, a kind of secret portable locker, fused into one's body. Nowadays, cash is used by two categories of people: the really poor who have no access to a basic smartphone and a bank account, and the really wealthy who still hide their black money in basements and false ceilings. Cash enjoys an under-the-table existence in most property deals, which are conducted partly in white and partly in black. In bars and clubs, you can still find rich brats pulling crisp bills from wads of cash. Daddy must be a real estate dealer. Which brings us to the handmaiden of currency notes: coins. The memories of coinage are like the rings on a spliced tree trunk: you can tell a person's age from the coins she remembers. Coins are made of metal and alloys, each with its own fascinating history. The 10 paisa coin, for instance, went through a gamut of materials—cupronickel (1957-67), nickel-brass (1968-1971), aluminium (1971-1993) and stainless steel (1988-1998). The metal factor spawned its own artificial man-made scarcity. If the value of metal was more than the coin's denomination, those coins would illegally vanish from the market. They were melted down and sold as what they were originally: base metal. The beautiful thing about coins is that people collect coins and they have value. The current value of a discontinued coin is at times more than its original denomination, depending on age and rarity (those from before 1980 are more valuable); mint mark (coins from the Bombay and Calcutta mints are more sought after); and condition (whether worn or uncirculated). Commemorative coins with special designs, issued to mark specific events, can be worth a lot more. Or take the 25 paisa coin of 1984. The coin was minted in Bombay, Calcutta and Hyderabad, but in this case the Hyderabad one is the most valuable, going at a rate of Rs. 1,000-5,000, while the Bombay and Calcutta ones are valued at Rs.50 and Rs.100. A range of numismatic apps, from Coinbazzar to even Flipkart, cater to the coin collector. I still find old coins in my house, in unopened drawers, unspent leftovers from childhood piggybanks made of clay—the great Indian gullak. Coins also enjoyed a parallel life. Passengers on a train would fling coins into rivers for good luck. Most coins didn't make the journey to the riverbed, landing on the railway overbridge itself. Children from nearby shanties would collect the coins and put them back into circulation. ****** When MTV launched in 1981, the first ever music video they played was The Buggles' 'Video Killed the Radio Star'. The coming of the ATM killed the cashier, punctured his pomposity. No longer was he a star sitting on a high horse in a stifling cubicle, with a slow-whir fan for company. The first ATM I used was when I arrived as a student at Oxford, in 1998. I was petrified of the machine, took too long to press the right buttons, and, sure enough, the machine swallowed up my card. It was night and the bank was shut. I pictured it going down a mysterious chute, before vanishing into an underground molten black hole. When I went back the next morning the recovery process turned out to be quite simple. An employee opened a lock from inside the bank, put his hand in and fished it out. He demystified the ATM. The ATM made life easier, both for us and the thieves. The bank robber didn't now require the skill or gumption to break into a bank safe after dinner or do a daring hold-up after breakfast. He just had to detach the ATM machine, bung it in a getaway vehicle and drive away into the sunset. Which is why, at least in India, ATMs come with security guards. For the guard, the ATM kiosk is his office and bedroom. The more ambitious use it as a library to work in, a cramped study room of sorts, where you can read, make notes, and prepare for competitive exams. Also Read | What broke Paytm? To be fair, UPI has not killed cash, coins, cashiers or the ATM. The RBI continues to issue coins in the denominations of 50 paise, 1, 2, 5, 10 and 20 rupees. But, at least for the urban middle class, actual currency has become a bit like linear TV—it's not dead, yet, but on its way out. Most have switched to smart televisions. While UPI has not killed cash off completely, it has killed the toffee economy. Back in the day, the shopkeeper would return some amount of the balance due to the customer in toffees. The reason given was the lack of requisite change. A small bakery near my house expanded into a full-blown eating joint by following the five-toffee principle. This unwritten rule states that in every transaction return a minimum of five rupees (sometimes even 10) in toffees. This led to many arguments with tempers soaring, before the hapless customer surrendered in resignation. The second rule was that toffee was a one-way currency—the shopkeeper was allowed to use it as such but not the customer. You couldn't come back the next day, buy a loaf of bread and pay part of the amount in toffee. I must say that I sort of miss those orange Parle toffees that could fill several jars, even though I was somewhat pleased to hear that the bakery recently burned down due to a short circuit. It will take many, many toffees to rebuild it. Meanwhile, start searching for that lost 5 paisa coin in your house. It might just make you a millionaire. The writer is the author of The Butterfly Generation: A Personal Journey into the Passions and Follies of India's Technicolour Youth, and the editor of House Spirit: Drinking in India.
Yahoo
14-07-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
DuPont de Nemours Earnings Preview: What to Expect
Wilmington, Delaware-based DuPont de Nemours, Inc. (DD) provides technology-based materials and solutions. With a market cap of $31.6 billion, the company offers a diverse range of products, such as construction materials, adhesives, electronics, fabrics, fibers, home garden, medical devices, resins, printing, and consumer products. The chemical giant is expected to announce its fiscal second-quarter earnings for 2025 on Wednesday, Jul. 30. Ahead of the event, analysts expect DD to report a profit of $1.06 per share on a diluted basis, up 9.3% from $0.97 per share in the year-ago quarter. The company has consistently surpassed Wall Street's EPS estimates in its last four quarterly reports. Shopify Stock is a Bargain - How to Make a 3.2% One-Month Yield with SHOP Tariffs, Inflation and Other Key Things to Watch this Week Stocks Set to Open Lower as Trump Ratchets Up Tariff Threats, U.S. Inflation Data and Big Bank Earnings Awaited Markets move fast. Keep up by reading our FREE midday Barchart Brief newsletter for exclusive charts, analysis, and headlines. For the full year, analysts expect DD to report EPS of $4.28, up 5.2% from $4.07 in fiscal 2024. Its EPS is expected to rise 6.8% year over year to $4.57 in fiscal 2026. DD stock has underperformed the S&P 500 Index's ($SPX) 12.1% gains over the past 52 weeks, with shares down 6.5% during this period. Similarly, it underperformed the Materials Select Sector SPDR Fund's (XLB) 2.1% gains over the same time frame. DD is underperforming due to challenges in the construction markets, impacting sales in its IndustrialsCo segment. With uncertainties in the U.S. housing market and inflation affecting residential construction, the company is also facing weak demand in the automotive industry. Separation costs for its electronics business are expected to impact DuPont's performance in 2025, with significant costs anticipated to impact margins and free cash flow this year. On May 2, DD shares closed up more than 1% after reporting its Q1 results. Its revenue stood at $3.1 billion, up 4.6% year over year. The company's adjusted EPS increased 30.4% year over year to $1.03. Analysts' consensus opinion on DD stock is bullish, with a 'Strong Buy' rating overall. Out of 16 analysts covering the stock, 11 advise a 'Strong Buy' rating, one suggests a 'Moderate Buy,' and four give a 'Hold.' DD's average analyst price target is $85, indicating a potential upside of 12.6% from the current levels. On the date of publication, Neha Panjwani did not have (either directly or indirectly) positions in any of the securities mentioned in this article. All information and data in this article is solely for informational purposes. This article was originally published on Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data
IOL News
12-07-2025
- Politics
- IOL News
A tribute to David Mabuza, the quiet general of principle
Late former deputy president David Mabuza was more than a leader; he was a comrade who rose through struggle, not shortcuts, writes Andile Lungisa. Image: Kamogelo Moichela / IOL By Andile Lungisa, ANC NEC Member In the rhythm of revolutionary time, there are comrades who do not shout to be heard, but who leave behind a silence so profound that it echoes louder than any speech. Today, we pause as a nation, as a movement, and as comrades, to bow our heads and raise our hearts in honour of Comrade David Dabede Mabuza, a giant who walked among us with humility, courage, and principle. DD was not a man of theatrics, he was a man of substance. In a political culture often dominated by noise, spectacle, and self-promotion, DD chose a path that was quieter, but infinitely more difficult, the path of discipline, restraint, and strategic conviction. We did not always agree. At moments, and particularly around the heated and history-shaping 2017 Conference, we found ourselves on robustly opposite ends of internal battles. Our disagreements were real, and I will not pretend they were minor. But I have come to understand that DD's politics were never personal. He stood his ground not to win for himself, but to defend what he believed would preserve and strengthen the ANC. Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Next Stay Close ✕ Even in disagreement, one could not help but respect him. Because his posture was never rooted in malice, it was anchored in a deep, quiet loyalty to the organisation. He believed in the ANC not as a convenience, but as a conviction. And when the dust of internal contest settled, DD emerged not bitter, not triumphant, but loyal. He stood by the movement. Unshaken. Unbought. Ernesto "Che" Guevara teaches us that "A true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary without this quality." This was Comrade DD Mabuza, he was precisely that, a revolutionary guided not by volume, but by vision. Not by ambition, but by love for his people. Not by fear, but by discipline. He was not consumed by uncontrollable ambition. He did not chase positions for their own sake. Even when his name rose to national prominence and the glare of high office settled on him, he remained grounded. And when the time came to bow out, DD did not cling. Like a great dancer who knows when the music is about to change, he stepped off the stage with grace, with his dignity intact, and with his conscience clear. What truly defined DD's political life was his unbreakable bond with the people of Mpumalanga. Alongside comrades like Mathews Phosa, Thabang Makwetla , Fish Mahlalela and Boy Nobela Mahlangu, he belonged to a generation of freedom fighters who did not wait for development to come, they fought fearlessly to bring it. Together, they carried the hopes of a province once sidelined, and turned it into a theatre of transformation. DD's leadership in Mpumalanga was not built on promises, but on the hard, gritty work of delivery. Roads that connected the forgotten. Schools that empowered the previously excluded. Clinics that reached deep into rural soil. He did not govern from air-conditioned offices alone, he governed from the ground, among the people, with the people, for the people. He believed that governance was a sacred act, and that no community, however remote, should be beyond the reach of dignity. Even when his health tested him, he did not retreat into comfort. He campaigned. He served. He endured. Because for DD, to serve the ANC was not an obligation, it was an act of faith. We must say this clearly: he was not perfect. None of us are. But in him, we saw the rare combination of quiet strength, political patience, and deep commitment. In him, we witnessed what it means to wield power without being intoxicated by it, to leave the stage without being pushed, and to disagree with comrades without betraying the movement. Chris Hani in lessons to us he teaches us 'It is not the kings and generals that make history, but the masses of the people.' Comrade DD never sought to be king, but he served like a general, always with the people, always for the people. Today, we say goodbye to more than a leader, we say goodbye to an era. An era of comrades who rose through struggle, not shortcuts. Who knew that unity is not the absence of contestation, but its disciplined management. Who could stand still in the storm and still point north, when others were losing direction. Go well, of in strategy, dove in for development, disciple of unity. May we who remain carry forward your example: of loyalty without arrogance, ambition without destruction, and service without spectacle. * The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media. ** JOIN THE CONVERSATION: Email your views to opinion@ and be sure to include your full name, physical address, and contact details (not for publication).
Time of India
09-07-2025
- Politics
- Time of India
After 5 yrs, blank sheets sent to RTI query
Chennai: Five years after seeking information under the RTI Act, a city-based activist received a bunch of blank A4 sheets as a reply. State Information Commission has directed Rural Development Department to investigate. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now In 2020, M Kasimayan of Ayappakkam filed a petition under the RTI Act seeking details of the implementation of the Jal Jeevan scheme in 14 panchayat unions in Tiruvallur district, as well as information on the public information officer concerned. He received a reply from the PIO asking him to deposit 30 for providing copies of the reply which was more than 15 pages. The RTI Act allows PIO to collect 2 for each page of the reply. Kasimayan drew a DD for 30, paid service charge of 54 and postal charges of 25. The PIO, however, returned the DD and directed him to "make the payment under respective account head." Kasimayan filed a complaint petition before the Tamil Nadu Information Commission, seeking action against the PIO and a penalty for wilfully delaying the information. After five years, the petition was listed for hearing on Wednesday. On Tuesday, he received a sealed envelope from the PIO, containing 10 blank A4 sheets. Kasimayan told information commissioner Priya Kumar on Wednesday that it is a serious violation under the RTI Act. The rural department officials will be asked to conduct an inquiry, he said. While the contents of the order will be known only when it is uploaded on the information commission website, Kasimayan said that the information commissioner has powers to levy a penalty on the PIO, and direct the department to conduct an inquiry. "But he has disposed of the petition, so there is no way I can find out the outcome of the inquiry," he said. On Wednesday, at the Commission office Kasimayan was given a copy of the information he sought five years ago. The public information officer Muthusundaram did not respond to calls about how blank A4 sheets were sent to the petitioner.
