Jack is looking at Anne, but Anne is looking at George. Jack is married, but George is not. Is a married person looking at an unmarried person?
(a) Yes
(b) No
(c) Can not be determined
***
If you chose (c) as the answer, you’re wrong! Here’s how, and also why:
And the answer is the first option. But over 80 percent of people choose the third option. Here’s the solution: the puzzle doesn’t say whether Anne is married or not, but she either is or she isn’t. If Anne is married, she’s looking at George, so the answer is “yes”; if she’s unmarried, Jack is looking at her, so the answer is still “yes.” The underlying reason why smart people get the wrong answer is (according to the article) that they simply don’t take the time to go carefully through all of the possibilities, instead taking the easiest inference. The patience required to go through all the possibilities doesn’t correlate very well with intelligence.
The “dead issue” is brought back to life yet again by some Muslim clerics who issued a fatwa against the recital of Vande Mataram by Muslims. In response, Hindu hard-liners retorted that those who refuse to sing the national song should go to Pakistan.
Two connected but fundamentally different claims are made here: (1) that Vande Mataram is un-Islamic, and (2) that refusal to sing Vande Mataram is unpatriotic. While the former is induced by religion, the latter has national chauvinism written all over it.
We certainly can’t deny the communal and political motives behind such claims, but the falsity of the second claim deems the first one almost irrelevant. In a just and liberal society no one should be forced to sing a song, be it national song or national anthem. If I, for example, find Vande Mataram offensive for religious, personal, ethical or any other reason, I should have freedom to deny its recital.
As Amit Varma has argued in a compelling blog post (link), there are two types of patriotism: one is primarily driven by love, and the other from pride and self-esteem. The first type of patriot doesn’t impose his own love and reverence (for the country) on others. While the second type of patriot demands everyone else to share his fervor and passion. A love-driven patriot may feel bad if others don’t share his feeling, but unlike a pride-driven patriot he wouldn’t get offended by that. Symbolism (like national anthem, flag etc.) and display are very important to the pride-driven patriotism. But they don’t mean much to the love-driven patriot, who adores the real things (like food, culture and music) as opposed to symbols that represent them.
The other concern that this event raises is about the vices of an unbridled democracy. There is a detailed discussion in Fareed Zakaria’s illuminating book The Future of Freedom about this. The first source of abuse in a democratic society comes from the government, and the second source comes from the people themselves. The will of majority can easily transform into tyranny of majority. The will of majority is important, even crucial to a democratic system, but so is the protection of minority’s rights. Democracy is surely a good system, but too much of a good thing can be bad sometimes.
Clarification: It might appear from my post above that I am implicitly approving the fatwa declared by the cleric. I am not. What I am defending is: liberty. If one doesn’t want to sing Vande Mataram, he should not be forced to sing. And same way, if a muslim wants to sing Vande Mataram then he should be allowed to do so as well.
For the interested reader, here’s good summary of issues and controversies surrounding Vande Mataram.
A R Rahman has experimented, quite successfully, with myriad musical genres. But when it comes to spiritual songs, he likes to leave them untainted by not adding a lots of bells and whistles and rely heavily on the core melody itself.
I don’t think any other music director (in Bollywood, if not in India) has given us more “spiritual” songs than the maestro. I like to call them spiritual songs, as opposed to religious or devotional, because although majority of these songs have either Islamic or Hindu flavor, I find them universally appealing and elevating. Here’s a list of my favorites from this genre:
Khwaja Mere Khwaja – Jodha Akbar
This song was dedicated to the Hidalwali (Saint of India) Khwaja Ghareeb-un-Nawaz, and was rendered by A R Rahman himself. He one mentioned in an interview that this song is very close to his heart, and you can feel his sincerity in the way he has sung this beautiful song. The soul stirring instrumental (Oboe) version of this song gives me goosebumps every time I hear it.
[Trivia: The lyrics of this song were not written by Javed Akhar - who wrote all other songs of this movie - but by someone named Kashif.]
Arziyan – Delhi 6
Backed by harmonium, tabla and continual gentle claps, this mesmerizing qawwali is like an ode to the Islamic culture of Old Delhi. Javed Ali, along with Kailash Kher, does full justice to Prasoon Joshi’s meaningful lyrics and A R Rahman’s magical tune.
Piya Haji Ali – Fiza
This was the first Sufi-style qawwali that A R Rahman composed for a movie. For Khuda ke vali (God’s friend) Haji Ali, to be specific. Shaukat Ali’s beautiful lyrics give a glimpse of how Islam, the monotheist religion, has blended with the local cultures in India: Yahaan hindu muslim sikh isaai faiz paate hai.
[Trivia: This song was performed by Ghulam Mustafa brothers, Srinivas and A R Rahman. Can you identify which lines are sung by Srinivas?]
Apart from the obvious Sufi semblance, muqaddar/taqdeer/kismat is another connecting link between the aforementioned songs: Arziyan (Marammat muqaddar ki kar do maula), Khwaja Mere Khwaja (Bekasoor ki taqdeer, tune hai saNwaari) and Piya Haji Ali (Bigadi kismat aap ke dar par saNwarti hai).
Al Maddath Maula – Mangal Pandey: The Rising
Unlike the three songs mentioned above, this one has a high tempo, an adrenaline rush and a dark tone of impending calamity. Murtuza, Qadir and Kailash Kher sing this song with a fervor, with intermittent devout spine-tingling calls to maula by A R Rahman.
[Trivia: Murtaza and Qadir are the same Ghulam Mustafa brothers from Piya Haji Ali. They also accompanied A R Rahman in Tere Bina from Guru, and rendered some beautiful lines in Chupke Se song from Saathiya.]
O Paalanhaare – Lagaan
There are actually two versions of this song. One sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Udit Narayan, and the other with an additional female singer. It’s the latter version that was used in the movie (to distinguish the lines picturized on Gauri and Bhuvan’s mother). But I prefer the former one, with Lata’s aging yet divine voice accompanied by mellifluous flute and subtle sounds of temple bells. Here’s the version that was used in the movie.
Noor-Un-Ala-Noor – Meenaxi
Written by the great painter and inept director, M F Hussain, this addictive qawwali raised a controversy because some Muslims got offended (I think the song uses a phrase from Quran to praise the beauty of a mere mortal: Meenaxi). And guess who are the singers of this qawwali? Murtaza and Qadir again!
Man Mohana – Jodha Akbar
As I wrote in my review of Jodha Akbar’s music, add Mira’s pangs of separation (from Krishna) to Radha’s passion (for him) and you get the recipe for this devotional song. The way Bela Shende has rendered this bhajan - her unflattering voice and command over the highs and lows of the song leaves you wondering why she doesn’t get more offers as a singer. (Isn’t Kangna Re from Paheli is her only other song?)
Ek Tu Hi Bharosa – Pukar
Lata and A R Rahman joined hands only seven times, and the result is always breathtaking. The tune of this song was originally composed for a concert in Malaysia and later used for this movie.
Zikr – Bose: The Forgotten Hero
This song is something else! I can’t really describe the elevated sense of euphoria that it evokes. One shouldn’t merely listen to this song, one should experience it. Since I am not a religious person, I attribute the effect of the song to the music (as opposed to its meaning).
Ishwar Allah – 1947 Earth
The secular message of this melancholic number is in the form of a series of questions to the almighty. It’s played in the background when the end-credits roll, and I think that was a perfect way to end this movie – a story of savagery and violence narrated by a Parsi girl.
I went leaf-peeping with some friends over the weekend. While I was avidly relishing the innumerable shades of autumn foliage, I wondered why trees put on this spectacular “make-up” every year before the winter season begins. Some googling revealed a very interesting theory that might explain the reasons behind this vibrant display by various deciduous trees.
According to the coevolution theory of autumn colours, the bright colours of leaves in autumn are a warning signal to insects that lay their eggs on the trees in that season. If the colour is linked to the level of defensive commitment of the tree and the insects learn to avoid bright colours, this may lead to a coevolutionary process in which bright trees reduce their parasite load and choosy insects locate the most profitable hosts for the winter.
Granted, this is a new theory (proposed in 2001) and have not been verified to the degree of getting a scientific consensus, but it certainly promises a very intriguing explanation. Previous explanations focused only on the proximate reason for this phenomenon – describing it as a by-product of leaf senescence. The green pigment called chlorophyll degrades in the aging leaf, which unmasks the color of other pigments. Leaf senescence and abscission also have an adaptive explanation: the cost of keeping the leaves in winter is higher than the benefits it would return by photosynthesis during the cold wintry days with scant sunshine. But this pigment-explanation fails to address the ultimate reason: why this particular trait was developed and why it has survived the test of time? What evolutionary benefit(s) does this trait provide?
Now, the coevolution theory suggests a possible ultimate reason. The defensive signaling mechanism can very well be the ultimate cause for the bright autumn colors. And what’s particularly interesting about this trait is that not only the bright colors benefit the trees in keeping the parasites away, they also help the insects by directing them towards more profitable hosts for the winter (hence the term ‘coevolution’).
P.S. Here’s link (PDF) to a white-paper about the coevolution theory.
Here’s an interesting “center map” that shows the mean center of US population from 1790 to 2000. (Click on the image to view a larger version.)
The mean center of population is defined as the point at which an imaginary, flat, weightless, and rigid map of the United States would balance perfectly if weights of identical value were placed on it so that each weight represented the location of one person on the date of the census.
While the westward journey can be simply explained by the expansion of US population, the southward journey coincides with the invention of the modern electrical air-conditioners in the early 1900’s.
I wonder what the mean center of population of India is… somewhere in Madhya Pradesh, may be? Although Indians have been moving around more than ever before, the center of population has probably remained stable because the movement (which surely is directed towards the urbanized areas) may not be in any specific geographical direction.
In the beginning there were two nations. One was a vast, mighty and magnificent empire, brilliantly organized and culturally unified, which dominated a massive swath of the earth. The other was an undeveloped semi-feudal realm, riven by religious factionalism and barely able to feed its illiterate, diseased and stinking masses. The first nation was India. The second was England.
And then, after two hundred years of British imperialism, the author argues, the situation was completely reversed! (The “beginning” she’s referring to is 1577, when the Mughal empire was at its peak under the great emperor Akbar, in case you’re wondering.)
It’s difficult to imagine a country as diverse as India to be “culturally unified” as the author suggests, but even after adjusting for the exaggeration, the shift in opposite direction is as conspicuous as it is interesting. It shows what imperialism often does to the ruled, and to the ruler.
Due to some early mixed reviews and the gimmicky subtitle (The Secret History of the End of an Empire) the book didn’t make it to my bookshelf in spite of its tempting subject. But now someone is making a movie based on this book with primary focus on Nehru and Edwina’s “clandestine and intense” relationship and my curiosity skyrocketed. And why not, after all one of the cover designs of this book features the infamous picture (the image on the right) that inspired me to write a post that’s very close to my heart: Love to Hate Nehru.
Unfortunately, but expectantly, the production of Indian Summer has been halted. The Indian government officials are evaluating the salacity of the script. “It was a relationship of great friendship between individuals of the opposite sex but at what point that relationship becomes more is between them. The desire to guard a reputation is institutional,” said Nehru’s biographer M J Akbar.
The recent Twitter controversy about Shashi Tharoor’s “insensitive” remark reminded me of this cartoon by Mike Luckovich published about two years ago.
I am a fan of actor Abhay Deol, who has consistently delivered fantastic cinema in last 5 years. In a very short time period, his name quickly became synonymous with quality cinema, powerful scripts and understated yet commendable performance. All of his first five movies were directed by debutant directors — Socha Na Tha, Ahista Ahista, Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd., Ek Chalis Ki Last Local, and Manorama Six Feet Under. He definitely has a knack for choosing the right scripts and talented directors. His last two movies – Dev D and Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! – were solid testaments of his acting skills. (It’s ironic how he is the master of one particular quality that both of his cousin brothers, Sunny and Bobby Deol, completely lack – subtlety!)
His next release is going to be Road, Movie directed by Dev Benegal. It’s being premiered at the Toronto Film Festival today as I write this!
The sneak-peek (below) looks very promising — beautiful cinematography, and haunting background music — can’t wait to see this one!
In an interesting article in the American Scientist associate professor Robert Dorit challenges a common misunderstanding about how evolution works, and explains how the evolutionary process doesn’t necessarily lead to an optimal design.
This perspective [that evolution inexorably leads to optimal adaptations] beguiles in its simplicity, but in the end, it trivializes the complexities of the evolutionary process. Natural selection sorts among existing alternatives, but sometimes a good-enough solution may become inextricably locked in place. Evolution is not about what’s best, but what works.
The placement of alphabet on typewriter/keyboard is a prefect example of how persistence of an early functional solution can account for the survival of a feature – the QWERTY arrangement, in this case. The early solution is often not the best solution, but can have such a tenacious grip that the possibility of other adaptations/changes gets minimized.
There are many explanations for why the inventors of QUERTY keyboard chose this specific arrangement out of total 4 x 1026 ways the alphabet could have been laid out. The most convincing explanation is that this arrangement minimized the mechanical constraint of jamming keys in those old typewriters with metal arcs.
However, the days of mechanical typewriters are gone and we don’t have the jamming-keys issue with our electronic keyboards. Moreover, whether the QWERTY arrangement was the best solution for minimizing jamming is also questionable. But, this arrangement survived the test of time. The QWERTY arrangement, in spite of being a sub-optimal solution, prevailed because it was deeply embedded in the technology and our consciousness.
Can the constraints of history and optimality can play similar role in biological evolution as well? Read the fourth page of this article (here) to understand how the alphabet of our nucleic acid (A, U, C and G) in RNA are not optimally coded. (I have to confess that it took me some time to understand this so called redundancy of the genetic code.)
In conclusion:
The power of the evolutionary perspective resides in its acknowledgment of the importance of [the] past. Perhaps more subtly, evolutionary logic makes a profound distinction between history and destiny. We may find great comfort in the idea of inexorable progress, but the products of the evolutionary process, like the products of human ingenuity, are not about perfection.
