If evolution was true, why don't we see a mishmash of species?

"If Darwinian evolution held any weight, what we ought to be seeing around us is a mishmash of man-panzees, and man-gutans and not a clearly formed species of each organism. This discontinuity is confounding." This was the dilemma my friend Sharath raised while we were engaged in another of our heated debates on 'nothing-in-particular'.

Intriguing. I thought, but the wonder held only for a moment. My high school biology came flashing back and I had an epiphany of sorts. It goes something like this

'While species(Let's say Ninja turtles) were evolving, the heritable changes happened in the germplasm and not the somatoplasm. One such genetic change, led to a modification of the reproductive anatomy of a few organisms in a species thereby making them reproductively isolated from non-mutants.

In other words,these mutant ninja turtles :) could fruitfully mate only among themselves(mutants) as any cross mating with non-mutant versions would lead to no offspring or a sterile offspring. Now by virtue of this single reproductive mutation, the mutant-ninja turtles mated and evolved into a new branch in the evolutionary tree. Very disparate from their uncle's nephews and nieces. The end product if viewed as a snapshot in time(In the evolutionary timeline our lifetime would be less than a snapshot) ,would be a collection of independent and disparate species with no apparent link to each other. Which is what we see today. Voila...Darwin stands vindicated!!!

Eulogy of an enchanted pupil

It’s official now. ‘Fooled by Randomness’ is my favourite book of all time. There’s something about the way Taleb spins probability theory, financial markets and our very own Weltanschauung into a heady cocktail. And for a change, he remains intelligible for the most part!!

Here is a sample anecdote from his book,

Imagine you were playing Russian roulette with a rich baron. The game goes something like this. You are handed a gun with one bullet in its barrel. You are supposed to fire the gun at your forehead and if you survive, you win a prize of 10 million dollars. Would you play such a game? Would you risk your life (16.667% probability) for an 83.33% probability of becoming a millionaire?

Such is Taleb’s take on numbers and probability theory. What I thought beyond my comprehension and/or interest is fast becoming an obsession, viz., financial markets, thanks to the Master.

Coming back to our Roulette game, if such a game was played every year beginning from the time one was 25 and everyone one on the planet did play such a game for the next ten years, there would be a handful of survivors and a large graveyard. These survivors would then preach the world how Russian roulette should be played!! I bring to your attention at the risk of repeating myself that these “Survivors” did the exact same things as the ‘hapless dead’. They just got lucky!! The gun takes no prisoners (He has a theory about the ‘gun’ as the ‘Generator’ of probability, more on that in the book). It only plays by the ‘law of probability’. It’s as simple as that. Such is the hold of randomness over our lives. Taleb calls this curious phenomenon ‘Survivorship bias’. Encapsulating ‘Survivorship bias’, it is the glorification of the survivors who were likely ‘lucky idiots’ than ‘the brave-all-odds courageous survivors’ that they are touted to be. (Taleb is a veteran of the financial markets and has survived the stock market crashes of 1999 and 2008 so pardon his lingo, he is as much ridiculing himself as his successful colleagues!!)

Wait a second before you sign him off as a misanthrope, he does mention in retrospect that while the whole notion of a Russian roulette is a bit too fantastic to be real, but it helps to display the role of probability in life. He also alludes, no less vividly that not all survivors are ‘Lucky idiots’ and that unlike a gun, the ‘generators’ of probabilities in life are not entirely random. Some understanding of the generator would help one survive better. His motif remains that one should be careful who one reveres as a ‘Survivor’; he might just be a ‘lucky idiot’. (‘Food for thought’ for the media, no?:-))

Elevation...

Languidly browsing my mails one rainy September afternoon, I stumbled upon one which was an invitation for a trek. Pretty interesting, I thought to myself. To be honest, until that point in my life I had no experience in outdoor activities, leave alone trekking. The prospect sounded thrilling yet daunting at the same time. 'I am game', I informed my friend Bhale who was the organizer.

And so it was that on a fine morning, I woke up groggily to greet the yet-to-emerge sun. All of us united at the NC(Night Canteen). There were 21 of us pack wolves out for the hunt. The clock was just stretching its arms wide as if yawning, to denote six in the morning. And so began the sojourn.

Halfway to Chembra, there is a hill to be traversed. This hill has roads winding up to steep 180^o turns and sharp inclines. The drive up to Chembra is a very gratifying one, especially in the early morning. Rather, it’s gratifying for the pillion, a rather grating one for the driver!! The road is full of potholes with heavy vehicles moving in either direction at a good speed. But the vista while going up is really picturesque. You are just above the clouds, but not quite. Verdant mountains covered by the white misty haze ensconce you in all directions. The weather is cool without being cold.

By the time you reach the peak of this hill, you feel elevated and I don’t mean just physically. It’s something about the pristine beauty of Kerala Mountains. You feel like you’ve returned to your mother’s womb. I know, you’ve heard that line before. But I guess that’s why it’s cliché; because it is true. ‘All ye nomads, here lies your destination’ call the hills unto you. At the peak of this 30 min uphill drive, you can halt to soak in the view. And the weather is just perfect for a cup of chaya (tea in chettaland J), with a panoramic view of the mountains.

A cup of tea and a couple of snapshots later, we set off to finish the remainder of the drive. The drive from uphill Wayanad to the base of Chembra, is replete with tea and coffee plantations. Occasional Siver-oaks dot the plantations with green pepper vines trailing up the trunk. The primary occupation of this place seems agricultural. You find arecanut, jackfruit(Artocarpus), and Eucalyptus trees widely spread over the place. And I have not even begun on the palm vegetation. Coconut trees are prolific in Kerala. The two rainy monsoons, the north-east and the south-west ensure Kerala is a spice and plantation haven.

While the fauna is not much to speak of, we heard the King Cobra (Ophiophagus Hannah) is to be found in the forestlands along with elephants and wild bear. My friend Harshad, who’s got a keen interest in butterflies (the invertebrate kind) found enough material to shoot (not literally of course, he is a conservationist).

We had reached the base by now. All of us gathered for a group photo and our second cup of tea and light snacks. Whoever said the journey is more important than the destination must have travelled through Kerala, or some such land. The serene morning vistas take your breath away. At this point we had approached the mountain.

Until that point in time, Chembra was just a word in my Weltanschauung. And now, there he was right in front of us, all 2100m of His Highness, simultaneously reckoning and enticing us to conquer. If I had heard the word ‘Majestic’ earlier I wouldn’t have been able to relate it to something I knew. I had found the perfect embodiment now, of majesty. We could only see the peak in transitory glimpses when the white clouds hovering like a halo around the peak, decided to let us, mere mortals behold the divine spectacle.

Around this time, the rest of the group had caught up with us. A brief stop at the camp office later, we were off to scale the peak. Chembra is part of the Wayanad hill ranges in Western Ghats, adjoining the Nilgiri Hills in Tamilnadu and Vellarimala in Kozhikode district of Kerala. At 2100 metres above MSL, it is the second highest peak in South India next only to Anaimudi (2695m) in Tamilnadu.

And so the trek started. It took me barely 15 minutes to start regretting all the potato chips I had eaten and all the walks I never took. Most of my mates were in good physical form and were zapping past me while I stood panting for breath. Not something I am proud of, in retrospect. But it was definitely a reality check for me.

At the lower altitudes of the mountain, you find plantations of tea and coffee being tended to by pickers.

As we climbed uphill, the weather became more serene and cooler. We were barely sweating going by the amount of physical exertion we were under. All around us were brilliant green mountains. Apart from a distant cell phone tower there was no human artefact on Chembra or around it. The higher you climbed, the more you felt drawn into the beauty of the place. The vegetation on Chembra is mostly that of a grassland variety, so you can see around yourself for miles. As you climb higher, it is just miles and miles of natural grassland dotted by the occasional cluster of trees. The path winds up in a serpentine pattern of well trodden gullies. Halfway up the hill at around 1500m. MSL you reach a small lake with clear blue water. When we reached the lake, our weariness just vanished. We dipped our tired and swollen feet in the cool water. Our chetta (guide) warned us against getting into the water as the floor was slimy. We had a small break here to replenish our lost energy and water reserves.

And then off we were. The lake itself was close to halfway from the bottom. From here, it was another long trek. Our chetta offered us all branches of trees, to be used as walking sticks. Most of us decided to forego the sticks eventually.

As we treaded upward, and looked back at the lake we discovered a most ethereal sight. The lake we had just traversed began assuming the shape of a heart. Imagine a blue heart in contrast to the verdant green background surrounding it.

As we crossed each peak, there was another peak waiting ahead of us. It was insane, you dragged your feet up one summit, thinking it was the last only to be conned and discover another peak beyond itL. Tired and panting for breath we scaled all the peaks. I guess my first trek is something I can enjoy only in retrospect. Because when it all happened, I was too exhausted to notice anything around me.

And finally we reached the summit. We were now above the cloud cover. The clouds were moving to the right, right below us. We were probably in a cloud ourselves but couldn’t see it. It was a truly stunning spectacle. There I was. It was like an epiphany. I realised

“I am higher than I have ever been in my life and higher than I will probably ever be again.”

An R.Kelly song from the 60’s kept ringing in my head at this point.

"I believe I can fly,

I believe I can touch the sky

I think about it every night and day,

Spread my wings and fly away

I believe I can soar"

The Greatest movie of all time

For a long time I have been encountered with this question and I couldn't think of a prompt reply.
And then I saw this movie, the entire movie revolves around this one person who is incarcerated without being guilty. He literally carves his way out of prison and into freedom.
Yes, we are talking about 'Shawshank Redemption' here. The greatest movie there ever was. In a way, the movie is all about hope. Hope in the bleakest of times, when everything around you seems to be against you, when life itself seems to be making fun of you. As the famous line in the movie goes 'Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of all things, and like all good things it never dies'.
The protagonist retains hope through the worst of times and ironically finds a way to escape- hidden behind a frame titled 'His judgement cometh and that right soon', he finds his salvation.

A memorable conversation from the movie.

Andy Dufresne: That's the beauty of music. They can't get that from you... Haven't you ever felt that way about music? 
Red: I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Didn't make much sense in here. 
Andy Dufresne: Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget. 
Red: Forget? 
Andy Dufresne: Forget that... there are places in this world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside... that they can't get to, that they can't touch. That's yours. 
Red: What're you talking about? 
Andy Dufresne: Hope.

I do not aspire to capture the entirety of the film's magnificience here, so here's to what I could and did.

Sin City

Life comes in many shades. But if you want to see a rainbow, you come to Mumbai. The city reverberates with life in a million different hues.

The ‘business of life’ takes on a new meaning here. It becomes all encompassing for Mumbai residents who slog every week wearing themselves off in hope of that distant mirage of a weekend.

Eventually you become a part of the zombie population doing late nights, rushing to jobs, trying to make sense of wonderless lives.

The 'Minions of the time machine' run to their jobs as if being run by a giant universal alarm clock they are all tuned into. They wake up in the morning, rush to jobs, work overtime in jobs that they did not choose in the first place, and finally come back home to a family who has had it with their own share of daily battering.

Inspite of all this, it is a beautiful city, it is a land of opportunity for people from all over the country. It is like the wild, wild west where people go to make their fortunes. Most discover there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and settle for mundane existences. But for those who’ve made it, luxury comes in all imaginable hues.

In some ways we IIM’ites are lucky. Coming from an esteemed institution gives you the freedom to live life on our own terms. Now whether or not we exercise it is a moot point.

People find this city enchanting for the variety of sensory and sensual pleasures it offers you. But excus'e moi, for I am happy being in a small town where I can choose to live life on my own terms. Where my dreams are tied neither to material pleasures nor to my neighbour's perception of me.

Catch-22

Learnt something about Catch-22 today. Pretty Interesting stuff. It is the illusion of choice when you have none. A probabilistic  event which is the confluence of many mutually exclusive events. It is a strategy the society uses day in and day out to get you to comply with its norms.

            Here's a typical illustration:

When you are in school, you are told your life will be great once you get into college. Or at least that's what those worthless blokes in the movies portray. Once you clear that stage, you are told "Get into a top Management school  and the 'Dream life' shall be yours". Ad nauseam...ad infinitum....... 

                     In all this,you apparently have a choice. That of working hard and doing what people expect of you, the other option always scares us. The uncharted territory into which you will slip into if you don't listen to them. So you don't really have a choice, do you?

                                       Curious thing is, the only people the society respects is those who break its rules. All great thinkers were born not out of conformity but of rebellion.

                                           And the life of us mere mortals is born not so much of choices we make, but of choices we fail to make. Choices we consider society to be entitled to make for us. 

Worth pondering over. Isn't it...?

                                                 

Holi @K

It seemed like yet another uneventful day at the IIM. What with it being declared a working day, our spirits weren't exactly soaring. But then the mail from SPICMACAY arrived. "Holi @ 3pm. Venue:E-landing." Right....so there would be a celebration of Holi. What a respite!

Some of us eager beavers arrived before time, something very much against convention at least for classesJ. The colors were lying there tempting us. So we decided to take up the valiant job of pulling people out of the hostels and into the arena. One by one all our mates were dragged out of their rooms and sprinkled, rubbed and brushed (teeth) with colors. The festivities had caught on by the time we came back to E-Landing from the hostels.

A huge open tank was ready with colored water, and one by one each of us was going to get a customary 'Catapult' treatment. At least that's my word for it. We would be swung into the air by four strong mates holding each limb, and then swayed to gain enough momentum to propel us into the tank. And boy what a mess it was in the tank. At any given time there were at least six of our K-omrades ready to drown you (momentarily) into the water. No gender bias here. No one was going to be spared the 'treatment'.

With a little bhang to add more zing to the festivities, we were on at full blast. Vikash's quirky selection of songs, 'Chadgaya upar re…', 'Zara zara touch me, touch me…'(More about this one later) and the more conventional 'Rang barse,…' etc., pepped up the evening.

Things had reached quite a high by now, we went on a t-shirt tearing rampage (Well, unfortunately we had to show some gender bias hereJ). Well, the picture you see is the aftermath of the carnage. The torn t-shirts were being thrown at each other with great gusto (even managed to break the mess lampJ).

The best part of the event was when Ricky Singh did a very sensuous (and I don't mean in a manly way) dance to 'Zara Zara touch me..'. Man, he's got some moves. He got the girls all cheering and whistling at him. And also doing the money-throwing act you do for strippers in a club dance.

For me this was the best holi of my life, partly because where I come from, we do not celebrate holi this way. But I guess it is not so much 'how-we-celebrate' as it is 'With-whom-we-celebrate'. Come to think of it, that's true of most anything in life. It is the people around you who can make the dullest day into the most memorable one.

Slumdog-Whose victory is it anyway?

Is it really a moment to celebrate for us Indians? Slumdog won 8 Oscars. Yes.

Two of them were for an Indian. Agreed.

But are we dumb enough not to see that the entire process of rewarding Slumdog was the West's way of ridiculing India's Nouveau riche status. In a Globalised world where the only victories worth winning are those of the mind, the West has pulled off a coup de grace.

Call me a pessimist. Call me 'apatriotic'. But I desist from finding joy in this victory. My heart celebrates Rahman's success with all the gusto of a true Indian. Then again, does Jai ho even come close to expressing the maestro's true potential. This is the guy who gave us Roja, Saathiya, Jaane tu ya Jaane na. Agreed that most of these songs were no-brainers(lyrics-wise), but that does not in the least bit diminish his musical genius. Surely no Indian will look back and say Jai ho was Rahman's magnum opus. What the hell, we won't even remember the song in a year or two.

Coming back to the point why I call the movie an 'ideologically imperialistic' one. For one, there may be a million movies showing the west in a poor light but show me a movie made by a foreigner which shows India in a positive light. Not many, huh. Even if there is such a thing, westerners wouldn't like to concede that a third world country could be in any way superior.

Wait a second, you might cite Richard Attenborough's Gandhi as a contradiction, but then again a foreigner had to show the world who Gandhi was. And to this day, Gandhi doesn't have a Nobel peace prize. Not that it makes any difference to a man of his stature but look at the paradox.

All in all, it's a victory for the western world's blighted view of India. It's their way of showing us that we are just slumdogs who got lucky. Still don't believe me, watch Steven Spielberg's 'Indiana Jones and the temple of doom'. You will understand the level of apartheid still in vogue!!!

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A not-so-teary farewell

Aha..... the day had finally arrived. All the sleepless nights of planning had come to a head. Today was the culmination of all our efforts. We were going to bid adieu to our very own seniors @ K. Life had come a full-circle in what was a very eventful year. It was just yesterday when we were on the hot seat being grilled by seniors and today here we were asking the seniors to do a jig for us on 'Specially-chosen' songs.

The evening started with a short drive along winding lanes which could easily find a place in RGV movies. When we arrived at the venue we were all in for a pleasant surprise. The sun was just setting on what was a beautiful water-front resort. Some of our K-omrades who had the good fortune of landing there earlier were busy boating much to our envy. We all heartfully congratulated Nemuri for such grand plans.

After a few delicious starters, we got started on the evening's agenda. The first gig was a treasure hunt, only this one was among people. The 11er's had to find who among 12's a particular riddle pointed at, take that next clue from him and move on. The twist in the tale was the blind-ends we planted:-). The game was a roaring success thanks to Deepak's creative inputs. Radhika won the prize for treasure-hunt by breaking the last riddle, but only after a hefty bunch of clues from JuGults.

The next game involved playing a song and the 11's had to guess who among them it pointed to. That person had to take the hot-seat, do a jig for us and in the end answer a few questions. There was a lot of banter as each person was called. 'Osey ramulamma' for Ramya really set off peals-of-laughter :-). Mansoor the soon-to-be-wedded SeGult came out with his 'love-story' and was heartily congratulated with bumps and hugs.The whole credit for this selection of songs and editing goes to Koti and Deepak.

A hearty dinner with chicken,fish and paneer delicacies later we settled down for the second round of games.

Dumb-C started off on a not-so-warm note but gained momentum when SeGults said they had a 'Database' and generously used words like 'PGP 11 punch' and something about 'Radhika' being a Champ at Dumb-C.

After an hour and some ridiculously funny titles like "Papatho poi poi" , "Sri Pothuluri Veerabrahmendraswami Jeevita Charitra" later the JuGults proved the braggarts wrong.

But the day was not over yet. SeGults had their sweet revenge by winning in Musical chairs hands down with Karthik the behemoth 11er ruling the roost from the start. And what a prize he won-A soap box:-). His expression was well captured in a photo which is sure to appear in these columns.

A vote-of-thanks in telugu followed which made people erupt at each english word and then translate it to 'mother's sweet' telugu. It was fun.

The evening left us tired and bed ready. But all the platitudes by SeGults made the efforts feel worth it. They were going to leave the campus in a few days and what a heritage they left back(read as 'JuGults')!

In the end we all part ways but some people leave a lasting impression. Our SeGults did that to us and we plan to do the same for our juniors. Though how well we will succeed only time will tell. I dont think any of us can pull off 'The Mandy Act'-"23.59 means 23.59 not 24.00 not 23.58, only 23.59hrs". All the Sambas and Nagarjunas will be gone in a few days but the memories refuse to fade away.

Signing Off,

With lots of love and nostalgia,

Rax

P.S.:-I have half-a-mind to change the title...........

Ooty-A never-to-be-forgotten rendezvous

Jan 24th

                A bunch of us loonies from IIM decided one fine friday afternoon to go on a trip. Locations in and out of Kerala were quickly googled. There was a lot of tug-and-pull until finally Ooty was settled upon more by the need to form a quick consensus than anything else.

                                            And so it was that we set out, bags packed and Ooty-ready with Winter jackets and all. A cool and otherwise uneventful(we had a flat-tire:-)) evening later we reached 'the promised land' at mid-night. We settled for the night in a make-shift dorm. And for the first time I got to sleep on top of a double-storied bed.

                                                   Our foray started with a short-drive to a peak called 'The suicide point' which was a major disappointment. Khanna the pot-bellied,boisterous funbag of our pack  jested that South-Indians tend to call every major peak 'Suicide Point'. "Why such pessmism?", I did not have a ready answer to that one. 

                                         The view from atop was scenic but nothing could better the sun-rise view from the top of our very own K-ampus. So should I say it was relatively 'no-great-shakes'. But what really got me concerned was the amount of plastic strewn all over the place. The extent to which the place was desecrated by the looming masses saddened me. Can't we be a little more careful where we throw those mineral-water bottles.It reminded me of that 'now-seemingly-ridiculous sign we saw while driving up the hill 'Nilgiris-A Plastic free zone'-my a@#'.

                                                                  We then came down the hill, purchased home-made chocolates, a delicacy in Ooty and garden fresh tea-dust,which is another reason Ooty is popular for.

        A bit of tussle about whether or not we should go boating followed. And finally we decided on the affirmative. A serene boat-ride almost wiped out our disappointment of 'Suicide-peak' and the generally over-hyped Ooty.

                          A heavy lunch and drinks later we set out for connore.Watch this space for an update on connore,our only redeeming feature of the day'Connnore saved the day for us'.