A glimpse into the universe of one of the world’s unforgettable men

WHERE A 1,000-page biography fails to tell about the authorman, a one page epistle tells all. It is a mirror to his mind and a string that plays the harp of his heart. Take for instance the famous epistolary collection Letters from a Father to His Daughter—a compilation of 30 letters written by the first prime minister of India to his 10-year-old daughter Indira. It is replete with wisdom and the loving perspective of a father on how he wants his daughter to grow up knowing the good from the bad. They are not just random lessons in natural history and the story of civilisation but a window to Jawaharlal Nehru, the man, the father and the statesman.

Kennedy’s correspondence that runs into more than two million letters and is archived in the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum is similarly a mirror to the man extraordinaire. The book The Letter of John F Kennedy, is based on the premise that one can discover much more about Kennedy the man and Kennedy the President and the extraordinary times in which he lived by shifting through this selected sheaf of correspondence.

Charismatic Kennedy’s claim to fame did not just rest on his good looks and charms. He was eloquent in speech and well read and a great writer as prove the letters and his books. His speed of reading was an amazing more than 1,200 words per minute and his undergraduate thesis at Harvard became a bestselling book and earned him a Pulitzer Prize. His statesmanship was undisputable and his unwavering sense of duty unparalleled. All these qualities of Kennedy shine forth through the variety of correspondence that dotted his short 1,000 days in office. Of special mention is his long and secret ‘penpalship’ with Soviet chairman Nikita Krushchev. It provides an insight into how two diametrically opposite leaders managed to steer the world away from an imminent nuclear volcano. Chapter 4 titled World in Crisis provides captures the turbulent world of political upheavals at the time. That JFK was able to avert this tinderbox situation pursuing what he called “strategy of peace” through a dialogue on achieving nuclear disarmament with the Soviet premier, is a lesson in true statesmanship. But this is just a part of his multifaceted persona.

Read the book to discover the magnetic personality of JFK through his thoughtfully crafted correspondence. In this age of SMS and email, his letters are an iconic piece of intensely personal writing, an art that is perhaps lost to us forever.

The magic of the olive tree changes with the terrain in this region

It was my first day in Tunisia and I had been whisked off by my hosts to visit a museum. Not any old museum, mind, but one that had mosaics as its theme. Bardo had mosaics on the walls, on plaques, on the floors, even on the ceiling. Most of them were old and faded. And well they deserved to be, because some of them dated to the centuries BC. Murals depicted the olive tree and olive oil pressing and those are the ones that my hosts gleefully pointed out to me. “Look!” they exclaimed excitedly. “That’s how old the association between Tunisia and olive-growing is.” Tunisia also has an ancient Roman ruin at Dougga, where amidst the still impressive amphitheatre and public baths, you can still make out olive presses. It was the same in Izmir and Ephesus in Turkey as well as at Jerash in Jordan: the Roman empire meant trade across the Mediterranean basin and that in turn meant trading in olive oil. In the Greek island of Crete, there were ancient ruins, to be sure, but the most telling example of how old olive-growing on the island was, lay in a single tree. It was said to be between 2,500 and 3,000 years old! The village of Vouves had a bare handful of houses. I didn’t see as much as a shop or a post-office. Had it not been for the tree that had catapulted it into worldwide fame, Vouves would have remained a remote village in an island where olive trees carpet the hillsides and valleys and vastly outnumber the human population.

All the countries that surround the Mediterranean Sea, grow olives and make use of olive oil whether they belong to the Northern portion of the region. In Europe (Spain, France, Italy and Greece), the South Eastern part (Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon) or the South Western edge that lies in Africa (Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia and Morocco). My travels in the area showed me that the Mediterranean is a unifying force as well as a divider, forcing countries that would have been close neighbours to separate into three continents. Somewhat coincidentally, all the countries to the north of the sea are Christian and all to the south are Muslim! Greece holds the world record for the most number of olive trees and the highest production of oil, Spain exports the most olive oil yet Italian olive oil has the most cachet. Somehow, the European countries of the Mediterranean don’t seem as hung up on proving their credentials in the age-old sweepstakes. Even here, there’s a difference in the olive itself. Greece has two primary olives: Koroneiki is used to make oil and Kalamata is used as a table olive. In Spain, things are different. Andalusia, ruled by the Moors for 800 years, is where the bulk of olive production takes place, over low hills topped by toothpaste white villages on the hilltops. Andalusian olives are predominantly Picual and Picudo. In other regions, there are varieties like Hojiblanca, Cornicabra, Empeltre and Arbequina. Most Spanish oils are sold by varietal. So there’s Hojiblanca for dressing a salad, Picual for cooking with when you want a pungent flavour and so on. Spaniards would have upwards of three varietals in their kitchen—it’s not even considered a big deal. And the average supermarket carries at least a dozen varietals, to say nothing of individual brand names.

In Italy, it’s a different ball-game altogether. The slightly under-developed south, especially the province of Puglia, grows the most olives. One of the four main varieties, Leccino, is frequently interspersed with almond trees, so this particular varietal has an undertone of almonds. It would probably be the same in Sicily, where a variety of olive is grown whose name is Nocilara, which means ‘walnut-like’, because walnut trees are interspersed with olive trees, so that the fruit (yes, olive is a fruit, albeit one with a high percentage of oil) has a nutty flavour. The magic of the olive tree that finds mention in the Bible and the Quran is how the varietal changes with the terrain. In Liguria, olive oil is peppery, and it is mild, sweet and rounded in central Italy’s Tuscany and Umbria. However, the norm in Italy is to blend varietals. There’s nothing wrong with that—it’s what most Scotch whisky houses do—but the magic of the single varietal is lost. Jordan’s tradition of cold mezze means that quality olive oil finds its way to the table via the muhammara and the hummus that precedes every meal. In fact, olive oil is an integral part of breakfast in Jordan thanks to ‘ful’ – the hearty bean stew that comes with a do-it-yourself kit of roasted and ground cumin, shredded cilantro leaves, chopped onions and the best quality of olive oil that you can lay your hands on. It’s probably the same in the other two countries of the Levant that I have yet to visit: Syria and Lebanon. Turkey grows olives, and like most of the countries along the southern margins of the Mediterranean Sea, is dry and arid. Much of Turkey’s crop is exported in the form of oil, a large part of which is exported loose, that is to say, without the benefit of a brand name. Where Turkey certainly wins is in its cuisine, that is as Mediterranean as one could get, with the same ratio of vegetables to seafood to meats as every other olive producing country in the region. All Turkey’s cold appetizers and simple grilled fish would benefit immensely from a dollop of olive oil. That’s how a meal in neighbouring Greece is constructed, where a main course could be nothing more elaborate than a whole fish roasted and served with olive oil, a squeeze of lemon and a pinch of sea salt. It is this which is referred to as the Mediterranean diet and along with all the other adjuncts—fresh, clean air, plenty of exercise and a life that is led firmly away from the fast lane—that is touted as the key to a healthy life. To the extreme west of the region, in North Africa, lie Tunisia and Morocco. Tunisian olives are chemleli and chatoui, and are grown on flat, barren plains that stretch endlessly. All over the country, you can spot groups of Berber ladies cheerfully climbing up ladders to manually pick black olives. Certainly, if you see a picture of a steep hillside with an ancient olive tree clinging stubbornly to it and a faded net beneath to capture fallen olives, you’ll know it’s Greece. It’s these little individual touches that makes the region the rich tapestry that it is.

A khichdri of surprises—here’s Cafe Lota

I wish to begin with a disclaimer; I walked into Cafe Lota and was immediately smitten. I have visited too many cafes and dhabas next to picture-perfect waterfalls or misty mountains to list Lota as one of the most visually pleasing places. It is pretty, but its USP lies in the fact that one can have a conversation while eating there. My pet peeve in this city has been one; unless it is a five-star cafe—with sleep-inducing music—one is reduced to playing Chinese whispers at any other decent cafe. Delhi seems to have a mandate which prohibits coffee and conversation together. The second best thing about the cafe? The people who run it. “Cafe Lota is run by four partners. I am, sort of, the only working partner. There are three other first-generation entrepreneurs involved. We started on the October 1, 2013, and the place was rented out by the museum after we bid on a government tender. We had already run a cafe in Gurgaon (Roots). For the longest time Cafe Lota was a normal chole-bhature, dosa canteen. The Museum Chairperson, Ruchira Ghosh, wanted to give the place a lease of life. It was her vision to start something more than a canteen. The only mandate we had was to serve regional Indian food,” says Rahul Dua.

Dua admits that his affair with all things tasty began in Kolkata when he was just a boy. Before that dousing anything in ketchup was akin to fine dining. Dua embodies what is best about Lota—he has a relaxed air about him, takes food seriously, but not too much to wring the fun out of it. He admits that his guru has been his mother and an assorted battalion of aunties and well-wishers who have helped beta carve out that simple and surprising menu. (Ghosh’s Bengali cook helped out too.) Dua’s concerns are similar to yours and mine; why pay a bomb to have tasty Indian food? Why not promote fresh food and local ingredients and keep the menu basic and beautiful? Based on these principles Lota was born. Those who cook and serve at Lota are pleasant individuals without any of the fancy training. Most of them are from the Kumaon region in Himachal where two of the other partners run a resort. “I believe that if you can make a yummy daal–chawal– subzi then you can take on anything you want to,” says the young Chef. The cooks at Lota can make a mean subzi.

Dua busies himself between the kitchen and doing rounds of tables when he can for a better understanding of his guests’ needs. He is perhaps the only Chef humble and patient enough to humour a woman (who cannot cook) talk of “interesting ingredients” such as jute leaf and aam ada (a kind of galangal). But back to the food. That’s point three.

“We were free to interpret regional Indian food according to our own terms. In most Indian restaurants, the gravy drowns the taste of individual ingredients. At Lota we wanted to let the ingredients retain their own flavours.” They indeed do. The spinach pav served with white butter is one of the simplest items on the menu, but boy-oh-boy its buttery wholesomeness went so well with the cold kapi. The coffee (from Chikmanglur) is served fresh, fresh, and hits the spot. Cafe Lota is the perfect spot for the first date, the official meeting, writing that article (if you are one of those fancy-pants, disciplined people who can write in open-air coffee shops despite its distractions), because it does not take any labels seriously. Yes, in its first few months allegedly all of Delhi’s artsy glitterati descended there—but do not let that discourage you.

Jokes aside; set in an eminently accessible part of the city (Ministry of Textile’s Arts and Crafts Museum), Dua and friends hoped Cafe Lota would turn out to be the next most-accessed canteen for Supreme Court lawyers. “It has quite some months and I am yet to spot a single individual in black coat,” admits he with a laugh. Without an iota of advertising crowds kept coming in; expats, Indians, families, couples—mainly the hungry crowd. And word travelled via guests— and here we are.

Again, about the main bit—the food. The beetroot chop (yummy and reminiscent of the street-side vegetable chops of Kolkata) served with a dollop of sour cream was what we started our courses with. A friend had devoted a minute-long rant to the palak patta chaat—fried spinach leaves sprinkled with chaat masala and served in a bowl of sweet curd, sauces, chutneys, boiled potatoes and topped with pomegranates. I tasted it and thought the rant was to a large extent justified, especially the fried spinach bit. It was a crunchy bit of heaven and reminded me of the of palak chaats I had devoured by platefuls in Jaipur. The maanch aar kumro checkhki with tamatar was interesting as well but I wish the fish was softer and less dry.

I am not sure whether I am going to be a huge fan of Lota’s quinoa upma simply because my feelings toward both quinoa and upma are, at best, ambiguous. I realise that I will always have the soft spot for pavs served at Cafe Lota, whether it is the keema-pav or the spinach pav with the white butter. And the coffee.

Next on my to-eat list are kukuri bhindi ka raita (spiced yoghurt with crispy okra), Amritsari machhi aur shakkar kandi (batter-fried fillets of sole, crusted with popped amaranth grains served with sweet potato chips), bhaja moshla cream cheese and the karela biryani.

Those who are looking forward to tasting the dishes mentioned, the menu is slated to change soon for the summer. Summers, you can look forward to a lot of fruits served in savoury sauces, a quirky combination that Dua personally prefers. Say, a pineapple rasam or a raw mango and prawn salad; the idea of these are mouth watering. Binge to your delight and the bill would still be

Fresh ingredients? Check. Taste bud tingling flavours? Check. Smiling waiters? Check. Finally, affordable? Oh well, eminently so. What are you waiting for? Give the Indian Lota a chance.

AS I WRITE this editorial, I am plagued by a sense of déjà vu. It seems that only yesterday Delhi emerged out of President’s Rule to elect a Chief Minister. A mere 48 days after his appointment, Mr Arvind Kejriwal of Aam Admi Party (AAP) has resigned from his post. Now, we are back to square one—and to President’s Rule yet again—hence, the déjà vu. Apart from the similarity of the situation then and now, I have been quite struck by the behaviour of Indian Parliamentarians. The ruckus that followed AAP’s anti-corruption Jan Lokpal Bill could be rivalled only by the utter chaos which followed the Telengana Bill. Whatever the issue, it appears Indian Parliamentarians know only one route to resolving them; emitting battle cries. Degree of unruliness may vary, but it seems that some of our MPs are incapable of behaviour which suits the prestige of the Assembly. Is this how we wish to run a democratic process? Is politics not also about strategy, discussion and dialogue? Thankfully, voices of sanity prevailed in the nation with senior leaders cutting across party lines to denounce the rumpus. The people were no less stinging in their criticism of their elected representatives. It is to be hoped that our Parlimentarians will sense the mood of the nation and learn their lessons from the “grand masters”.

Also about strategy, mental calibration, patience and power play, is the game of chess. It is so similar—and yet so different—from politics. While ruckus reigns over the first, the second game has players who are the quietest people on the planet. I have always admired 2014the concentration and the utter dedication of chess players. For this month we have the master himself, Mr Viswanathan Anand. Mr Anand is a marvel—one, our nation should be eternally thankful for. It is because of him that we have taken such strides in this game. We were also lucky to have a brief chat with his spouse, Aruna, about the man beyond the chess board.

Talking about protests, we take a closer look at the issue of racism. Are Delhiites guilty of it? We spoke to two experts who have been working with this problem for a while now. But before you think all is grim; we do a savoury survey of Kashmir—a state which Marryam H. Reshii calls her second home. Coming down south, DW brings one of the most eminent international artists of India, Mr Surendra Nair, from Kerala.

March unfolds many promises for us. On March 8, women of the world will once unite to fight injustices and pledge for a better tomorrow. The new fiscal begins with an interim budget and we wait eagerly to exercise our right as India moves into election mode. It’s a month full of promises!

Meet the one-man chess industry. Without Viswanthan Anand’s moves, the Indian chess scene would have been that much poorer

“My mother taught me how to play after I pestered her. I was around six years old and would see my elder siblings play. I wanted to be a part of the magic circle.” His parents thought it was a passing phase or a hobby. “I was in my final year of college and by then I was the fifth in the world and had qualified for the world championship cycle. It was then I realised that I wanted to pursue the game as long as I could.”

From his early days there were distinguishing features which made the young Anand stand apart; speed, mental and tactical strength, and his gentlemanly spirit. It were these qualities which helped him become the youngest National Chess Champion in India when he was 16 years. In 1987, Anand added another feather to his cap by becoming the first Asian to bag the top spot in the World Junior Championship. By 18, Anand was a Grand Master. His win of Reggio Emilia in 1991 in Italy only added to his credentials. Yes, India can boast about a lot of great chess players. But it is important to talk about Anand more for his efforts at trying to lift the profile of the game in the country. Even today his efforts to promote chess and improve coaching camps here is admirable.

But before we get too ahead of ourselves; let’s go back to the beginning of his flourishing career. Anand was a busy child, yet proficient in juggling practice, school and childhood pranks all with equal elan. “I would enjoy a break from studies to play chess and vice-versa. Since my father was in the Indian Railways, the three of us had the chance to play a lot of games such as badminton and tennis, apart from chess, which all three of us were enthusiastic about. I played my first tournament almost as soon as I started learning. I lost my first three games and won the fourth since my rival didn’t turn up at the board,” he says with a laugh. Fortunately for Anand, he had a supportive school principal who was “was very supportive about all sports”. “I remember that he would encourage me to play more. The school would also honour my achievements. This nod from school, administrators and friends meant a lot.”

Anand is not just “lucky” to receive the attention of his friends and family, he is a player who has the support of his city. Chennai’s love for chess—and for its champion—is stuff of legends. It is home to the 100-year-old Solar House (Mylapore) which is also considered to be the cultural epicentre of Chennai. It is said that sahibs would come and play with the natives at the Solar House. Then there is Tal House (named after Grand Master Mikhail Tal). And if we have not yet convinced you—an interesting data; one-third of the World Chess Federation-ranked players from India are also from Tamil Nadu. And two-thirds of that number are people who hail from Chennai.

When we say Chennai adores chess—it does. It is particularly imperative that we link the two (city and champion) while talking about the game. The city is home to The National Institute of Information Technology Mind Champions’ Academy formed in partnership with Anand, to promote the game in the city. In the past 10 years, membership has grown to 1 million.

The city has witnessed unprecedented growth of chess sometimes pushed by the Tamil Nadu government. In 2012, the state government decided to make chess mandatory in state public schools. The government has also invested Rs 290 million (approximately) to host the World Chess Championship. However, the biggest blow to the city’s collective pride came from this championship. One can tout November 22, 2013, to be a particularly bad day for Chennai—indeed for whole of India. It was a day when a young man from Norway called Magnus Carlsen became the new world chess champion after his and Anand’s tenth game ended in a draw. The 22-year-old Norwegian got the required half-a-point needed to reach 6.5 points and dethrone India’s Grandmaster. It was Carlsen’s maiden title. Anand drew in a match with Magnus Carlsen (Norway) in 65 moves during—what was touted by a lot of newspapers as—one of the “most lopsided matches” in the game’s history. (Incidentally, Anand lost to Carlsen again and was placed third in the Zurich Chess Classic’s Blitz Tournament in January 2014.)

While most fans ranted about the Chennai loss, true to his self, a matter-of-fact Anand accepted the loss as a “deserving one”. I remember reading about Anand’s reaction and being particularly impressed by his honesty.

“My mistakes did not happen by themselves. Clearly he (Carlson) managed to provoke them (Anand’s moves), full credit to him... I simply blundered (on the 28th move). I don’t know the evaluation after that. The knight-ending is very dangerous,” said Anand with his characteristic humility. Was Carlson the most dangerous opponent that he has met? “Every opponent I lose to, is the most challenging opponent,” he says, a diplomatic answer served with a smile.

“My first trainer was Mikhail Gurevich. It was he, and several others, who taught me to not think too much about the big picture. I try to focus on the immediate game.

“I try to keep my life simple. Luckily, I have a great family which takes most of my tension off my shoulders and allows me to focus. Before every game I try to listen to some music which is the greatest relaxation,” he says.

And, he constantly tries to evolve his game. The Lightning Kid (again a nomenclature testament to his tactical calculations) published a collection of his games Vishy Anand: My Best Games of Chess in 1998, which he expanded with new games in 2001.

Play and evolve that seems to Anand’s mantra. He prefers not only to focus on his own game but on the overall appreciation of chess; so we had to ask him with everything slowly moving online, did he see the possibility that people would ultimately play chess online?

“Already chess is one of the biggest sports online. It can be followed in its entirety online. I believe that the internet is chess’ greatest ally. Also, it is amazing to see the number of academies and trainers in India. I am quite certain that we definitely have the talent to raise the bar. For instance at the NIIT Mind Champions Academy that I am closely associated with we have reached 10,000 schools and the support we have received has been overwhelming.”

On a personal front, Anand is not an obsessive planner. “I do not plan too much into the future. I try to see what the next event is and prepare the best for it.” In the meanwhile, he is busy going to the gym, reading, and being a father to his three year old son Akhil. He speaks French, German and Spanish besides Tamil and English. After Akhil’s birth the family moved base from Madrid to settle down in Chennai in 2011. Despite all the ups and downs, Anand seems to be in a good place. “My lesson or advice—call it what you will—to my child, indeed to every children—would be enjoy whatever you do.” It is clear that our chess champ clearly enjoys what he does now.

Finally, we had to ask, for all those places that he has travelled to, which is the most enthusiastic country or crowd that he has met. “Russia is really fond of chess. (Allegedly two thousand Muscovites once gave Anand a standing ovation for a splendid move against Vladislav Tkachiev.) Having said that, in India one always feels special. There is no doubt about that.

Calls BJP, Congress, puppets of Mukesh Ambani

RESIGNATION\\ Arvind Kejriwal quit as Delhi CM just 48 days after he assumed office. His move followed a threat to resign if the Legislative Assembly did not pass the Jan Lokpal Bill. On February 15, 2014, when his motion in favour of the Bill was rejected, Kejriwal quit. “The council of ministers met this evening and decided to tender its resignation. The council also recommends dissolution of the Delhi Assembly and immediate conduct of elections to the Legislative Assembly. The same may kindly be accepted,” Kejriwal reportedly wrote in his letter addressed to the President, via Lieutenant Governor Najeeb Jung.

The ruling Congress had supported Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) after it won 27 seats during the state elections in 2013, leaving just eight seats to Congress and 31 seats to opposition party BJP. But both parties stalled the tabling of the anti-corruption Bill.

Earlier in February 2014, AAP had filed a complaint against Mukesh Ambani, India’s richest person and the chairman of Reliance Industries, and two senior leaders of Congress, for conspiring to raise gas prices through artificial means. Within days of taking the role of CM, Kejriwal had slashed water and electricity tariffs, which led to more public support for the party.

SC to hear Centre’s plea

SENTENCE\\ The Supreme Court on February 15, 2014, commuted the death sentences of the three assassins of Rajiv Gandhi to life imprisonment, holding that the 11-year delay in deciding their mercy petition had a dehumanising effect on them. An apex court bench headed by Chief Justice P. Sathasivam said, “The delay was not only inordinate but also unreasonable and unexplained.” The court said that life imprisonment would mean life in jail till end.

On February 24, 2014, the Supreme Court decided to hear the Centre’s plea challenging the Tamil Nadu government’s announcement to release the assassins of the former PM. A top court bench headed by Chief Justice P Sathasivam agreed to hear the plea after Additional Solicitor General Siddharth Luthra told the court the Tamil Nadu government had no jurisdiction to release the conspirators.

The week before, on a petition by the Centre, the Supreme Court stayed the release of three of seven convicts—Murugan, Santhan and Perarivalan—whose death sentence was commuted because of an exceptional delay in a decision on their mercy plea.

Reddy to Float Own Party

STATE\\ Unfazed by protests, the Andhra Pradesh government in February moved the controversial Telangana Bill for consideration and passage in the Lok Sabha. Union Home Minister Sushilkumar Shinde moved the AP Reorganisation Bill-2014 for consideration even while ministers and MPs from Seemandhra region were in the Well opposing bifurcation of the state.

Sixteen members from the region—from Congress, TDP and YSR Congress—were suspended from the House till February 20, 2014, after unprecedented pandemonium in which Congress member L. Rajagopal was expelled for bursting pepper spray.

For the first time, CPI(M) members also joined the protest against the bifurcation.

Members from Telangana region were also in the Well seeking early creation of the state. The Home Minister moved the Bill amid uproar. Members also demanded the passage of SC and ST Sub-plan Bill. Speaker Meira Kumar tried to bring order in the House by stating that she had received notices of no-confidence motion and wanted to ascertain whether these were backed by 50 MPs. As the din continued, she adjourned the House. As the proceedings in the House resumed, there was uproar again which forced her to adjourn the Loka Sabha again.

Taking the bow after a fight against the state bifurcation, Chief Minister N. Kiran Kumar Reddy resigned once Parliament took up the debate on the AP Reorganisation Bill. This development will probably pave the way for imposition of President’s Rule in AP.

An indication that Reddy had made up his mind to quit came after it became clear that BJP could support the Bill in Parliament.

“There is no way he will continue in office after the debate commences in the Parliament,” a close aide of the CM disclosed Sources in the PCC maintain that the Congress high command is not in a position to convene the Congress Legislature Party meeting given the regional polarisation among the Telangana and Seemandhra legislators.

“In such a chaotic situation, it will not be proper to impose a CM on the troubled state. Electing the new CLP leader will be a Herculean task,” it was pointed out.

The day also marked sharp division among the Seemandhra Congress leaders with Reddy’s detractors holding parleys at the residence of PCC chief Botcha Satyanarayana. It is alleged that they blamed him for the present crisis and failing to stall the bifurcation process. A group of Chief Minister’s loyalists, too, met him at the Camp office to review the situation.

In Delhi, the Seemandhra Union Ministers and MPs met AICC vice-president Rahul Gandhi with their demands. Earlier, they met BJP leader L.K. Advani and appealed that the amendments they suggested should be included in the Bill.

Russia Emerges as Overall Victor

GAMES\\ The Winter Olympics started this month at Sochi, Russia, amid protests from the LGBT community after the Russian government criminalised homosexuality. Russian protest group Pussy Riot were beaten with whips by Cossacks helping patrol Sochi during the Winter Olympics. February 17, 2014, the pair were arrested on suspicion of theft at Sochi, but later released. With 13 golds and 33 overall medals, the host nation Russia emerged as the decisive victor of the games. Norway, the skiing king, won 11 gold medals and 26 overall, followed by Canada at 10 gold medals and 25 overall. It was not a good year for the United States, who placed fourth in gold medals, with nine, and 28 overall medals—nine fewer than the last winter games in Vancouver.

MY FAMILY have been farmers for generations in Punjab. In 1938, my grandfather left his village of Thakarki and settled in Somerset in the southwest of England. In 1950 my parents emigrated to Taunton. A few years later they moved to Wellington. Barely, five miles from where I was born was Milverton, the birthplace of Thomas Young, a polymath who made breakthroughs in wave theory of light. He studied at Emmanuel College Cambridge. Years later, I attended the same college. Of course, I failed to make any significant contributions to the foundations of physics. At the age of nine I declared I wanted to be a nuclear physicist. Bizarrely, I do remember the moment. Although I considered being a glam rocker and a footballer as well, I stuck to my scientific ambitions. I have always loved watching TV. Early 1970s (post-Apollo era) was great for time for scientists on the box; Patrick Moore, James Burke, Carl Sagan, Magnus Pyke and Heinz Wolff.

I started writing through television—when one makes TV programmes you start by writing an outline, a script and narration. So, I began to learn about structure, balance and plot. Later when I thought about writing a book, all the things I learnt on television were transferred into the books. Whether it’s TV, radio, lecturing, writing books or articles, the principles are the same. You have to understand the subject, be concerned about the subject matter and know how to tell a story. I knew about Fermat’s Last Theorem as I had written a programme about it. I was already familiar with the idea. One day, I realised that code breaking was an important subject, one that was both historical and topical and that nobody had written about it. The idea just hit me. I think that it is great to have some idea of what you want to do with your life. I was lucky that I realised that my future lay in science, so I knew where to concentrate my efforts. I studied A-levels in mathematics, physics and chemistry. I planned to study physics at Imperial College, University of London, and thanks to my teachers I managed the grades. I had originally applied to Cambridge University, but they rejected me. In hindsight, it was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me. Before starting my physics degree at Imperial College, I spent a year at GEC Hirst Research Centre, Wembley. It was an interesting year as it helped me to grow and realise that my future did not rest in industrial R&D.

Instead, I aimed for a career in academia. While working for my degree, a few more serendipitous events helped me and set me on my current course. The first time I wrote was for student newspapers and newsletters—namely Schrodinger’s Cat and Otto—for the physics department. I did not write with an intention of being either a writer or a journalist, but it turned out to be my stepping stone. After my second year of studying physics, I spent the summer at the University of Delaware, US, as a part of a student exchange programme. Also between Imperial College and my PhD, I spent a couple of months teaching at Doon School, India. I taught in order to live in India. My teaching experience at Doon proved to be invaluable, as I learned how to explain scientific concepts with clarity to people unfamiliar to a concept. My PhD in experimental particle physics was based at Cambridge, but I spent most of my three years working at the European Centre for Particle Physics (CERN), Geneva. I worked as part of the UA2 collaboration, which had previously won the Nobel Prize for discovering the W and Z bosons. CERN has a network of ‘accelerators’, which smashed particles together, (matter and antimatter travelling almost at the speed of light). In the case of my experiment, we were colliding protons and antiprotons, in the hope that the intense energy from the impact would create other particles.

There is a particle called the top quark, and we hoped that the collisions would create some of these hitherto unseen particles. We ran our experiment for a couple of years, without success. Nevertheless, by its absence, I could deduce something about the top quark, so I was still able to complete my thesis. (Incidentally, the top quark would be eventually discovered at America’s Fermi Laboratory in the early 1990s, years after I finished my PhD.)

My three years at Cambridge and CERN were challenging and stimulating. I met people who were on a different planet when it came to understanding and researching physics—it would be they who would go on to make their names as pioneers. As for me, it was time to change. I had always enjoyed talking about and explaining science, so I took the decision to move towards a career in journalism and science communication. Since I have always loved television and felt that this was the most influential medium, so I started applying for a job at the BBC. It helps not being the brightest person in the world. I seem to have a talent for interpreting science for a lay person and for other scientists.

When I finished my PhD, I knew I was not the brightest person and would never get the Nobel. If I could not be a physicist, I would write about it—I decided. The most satisfying aspect of writing is learning new things. I did not know about code breaking before writing The Code Book, and now I know lots of stuff. While writing Fermat’s Last Theorem I explored a new mathematical world that I had somehow missed during my education. And right now I am learning about cosmology. It is fun.

Turning my hand to alternative medicine, I also published a book called Trick Or Treatment? that included a chapter on the history of chiropractic therapy (manipulation of the spine to realign the back), which was invented by grocer and healer Daniel David Palmer in 1890s America. Inspired by the ‘miraculous’ recovery of a deaf man whom he treated by manipulating his back, Palmer said that 95 per cent of all diseases are caused by trapped vertebrae. Suddenly, the therapy (comes from the Greek word for hand) became a near religion. Palmer practised vigorous ‘racking’ on his own children, which led to him being arrested. Palmer’s ideas caught on. In 1925, the British Chiropractic Association (BCA) was set up and clinics opened specialising in the treatment. Chiropractors were able to ‘cure’ ailments. Recently, the association claimed children suffering from colic, eating problems, ear infections and asthma can be helped with chiropractic therapy. Though General Medical Council and Royal College of General Practitioners advocate its use—especially for back pain—scientists say there is no evidence that chiropractic spinal manipulation is better than other forms of back massage.

This has led to widespread debate, with some doctors refusing to refer patients to chiropractors, claiming it can even cause harm. I always questioned whether chiropractors could achieve the results they claimed. Later, in a column for the Guardian, I wrote that the therapies were ‘bogus’—and trouble began. I was slapped the biggest libel suit in the history of Britain. Eventually, I managed to win the case and today there is a law that makes libel charges against individuals, a bit more difficult task to perform. Hopefully, the law works in favour of scientific minds trying to put their viewpoints forward.

But getting back to the act of writing a book—it all begins with an angle. Do not ask me what the angle is. I do not look for ideas, they just seem to materialise. The first thing after the angle is to find a structure; a beginning, a middle, a twist (?) and an end. What are the chapter breakdowns? And then I have to define a schedule because writing a book may seem like a huge task, unless you break it down. Then it is less intimidating. If you think—I want to write the first section of the first chapter, and I want to write it in two weeks—that seems like a reasonable amount of work to do.

That’s not too frightening. And in order to stick to the schedule, it is important not to get choked with too much to do. I can not afford to spend a couple of months trying to understand or explain a particular idea. If a problem seems unsolvable even after a couple of months, I just move on and come back to it when the first draft is finished.