Nothing political..

The day our past colonial masters went busy pondering over their historical in/out choices, our fifth grader came home happy. After past years' unsuccessful attempts her piece has finally made it to the school magazine. Unlike the Britons we, Indians, are extremely fond of turning every political debate into high-decibel media melodramas played out in the ugliest possible fashion without ever going anywhere near any logical conclusion. No surprise then that a ten year old picked up a political incident to base her essay on.

It was January when submissions for the school magazine were due and the case for certain traffic regulations in the national capital was hogging all the media space in the country. I suppose most of the proffered logic (for or against) went far above the young one's head. And as children typically do, when confronted with long-winded (and usually pointless) adult logic, my daughter too found this entire debate rather funny.

My only reason for posting her magazine piece here is a hope that perhaps the next generation of  citizens would retain their sense of humour. A hope that they would be able to laugh at the absurdities of life and political drama instead of getting drawn into the murky depths of their unsavoury hidden agenda.
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In the land of 'odd-even'..
As you all know, Delhi has recently introduced an odd-even rule. But it is only for cars. I wonder what would happen if such rules were there for other things. For example, cellphones. Then only cellphones with odd numbers could be used on an odd day and the other way around. So many important calls could not be made (or so many unnecessary calls need not be made)! So many things could go wrong! That would be quite horrid. How about making this rule for postal pin-codes? All the places like  shops, schools, restaurants etc. in an odd-numbered pin-code area would be closed on an even day and vice-versa. That would be quite confusing.

Suppose we had this odd-even rule in our school. On an odd day only children with odd roll numbers would come to school. On an even day only even roll numbered children would come. If we had some program in school happening on an odd day and the children with even roll numbers are taking part in it then they would not be allowed to come. And if an odd roll numbered person had his/her birthday on an even day then he/she could not come to school and celebrate with his/her school friends and teachers. Imagine that! Not being able to celebrate your birthday at school. Or how about making the rules for roll numbers in school exams? The children with odd roll numbers would have the exam on  odd days and even roll numbers would have their exams on even days. Even better, on even days only even numbered classes II, IV, VI etc. and on odd days only classes like I, III, V would attend school. Wouldn't that be fun? These are only the things I have thought about. Maybe you can add more to this list. I wonder what sort of odd-even rules people will think of next.
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An unusual book..

From  the time  of the  ancient Indian  'gurukul' to  the present  day academia, the 'guru-shishya'  (teacher-student) relation is inherently asymmetric. The teacher teaches, the  student learns. The teacher assesses,  the teacher  judges and  the student  stays forever  at the receiving end of such evaluations.  And then, once  in an interesting while comes a student's chance of chairing the judge's seat.

Arnab  Rai Choudhuri,  Arnab-da ('elder  brother Arnab') to most of his  Bengali speaking  colleagues and students, is one of my  dear old professors.  In  the physics department of  the Indian Institute of Science (IISc, Bangalore) he  is known as one of the best teachers around and  for people like me he belongs  to that remarkable group  of foreign  returnees who  helped shape  the Indian scientific scene the way we see  it today. But  for these people, many in our generation would not  have had the luxury  of finding world class  researchers as PhD supervisors without leaving the Indian shores.

I have had the privilege of taking a course offered by him in my first year of graduate studies and later working with him as  a scientific collaborator. I have to say that  the pleasure and the privilege has been entirely mine. Inevitably, over  the years we forged a friendship that  is  characteristically typical  of  academia. It's a valued friendship between a teacher and a former  student,  between  two research  associates bridging  the generation gap which  allows, even obliges one  to be impartial while  judging the work of the other and yet remain close to each other.

During my job hunting days, a  couple of decades ago, Arnab-da had the unenviable  task of  writing  scores of  recommendation  letters -  an almost mandatory  duty for  being a teacher/senior  collaborator.  And suddenly, a few months ago, I find myself with the task of writing a review for one of his books for a science magazine. The onus is now definitely on me to be as fair and as impartial!

I have to  admit upfront that I am totally  impressed by the frankness shown by  Arnab-da in exposing the reality  of front-line  research in this book. Instead of the  standard de-humanised  style of the popular science  genre, this  book  has truly  become  Arnab-da's  'scientific autobiography'. He  has lived through  interesting times and  the book takes us along this roller-coaster ride of frustration and joy that is the hallmark of every scientists' working life.

Of  course,  there  have  been   difference  of  opinions  about  this particular style of writing even  amongst his closest friends.  We all know  that  there exists  a  gulf between  the  style  and  sense of presenting   a   narrative (from  serious   technical   reports   to spy-thrillers) between the  two shores of the  Atlantic.  Most of  us, given our  personal trajectories,  tend to  subscribe to one  style or  the other. I suppose the debate  arises mainly from this perception.  But, after  all  is said  and  done,  people  belonging to  the  scientific community  would immediately  realise  that the  book  has managed  to capture the true essence of the scientific environment around him.

In defense  of his style, Arnab-da  himself says - "I  have found that most scientists are reticent  in making their  life stories  public - perhaps due to the general perception that an average scientist's life is rather  drab and colourless  compared to an average  artist's life. Through my  story, I  have tried  to give  an idea  of how science is actually done in our field. I  have tried to write about a scientist's hopes and  fears, friendships, competitors, jealousies,  and the utter joy of  occasionally discovering  a clue  to understanding  some deep mysteries  of  nature."   In  my humble opinion  his  attempt  is  an unqualified success.

This review has appeared in Resonance - Journal of Science Education. Given the academy (Indian Academy of Sciences, publisher of Resonance) website's not too commendable connection speed, I include it below.

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A Scientific Autobiography 

Going through  "Nature's Third Cycle -  A Story of Sunspots" by Arnab Rai Choudhuri is  akin to having a  ringside  view of the  gradual unveiling of one of the abiding mysteries associated with our friendly neighbourhood star, the Sun.

In  the emergent  era  of gigantic  telescopes,  expected to straddle continents and sometimes  place another foot far beyond mother Earth, Big-data (with a definitive capital B) is inevitably giving rise to humongous collaborative groups in Astronomy & Astrophysics, the sizes of which can sometimes even  shame an  army division. The  old world scientists, working  with  a  handful  of  associates and students, building numerical codes from scratch  on their puny desktop computers are  but a vanishing breed. Arnab  Rai Choudhuri, of the Indian Institute  of Science (IISc,  Bangalore), is one of  those last Mohicans, belonging to a small minority of theoretical astrophysicists (since,  astrophysics by  its  very nature is  an  applied branch  of physics).  He has  even displayed the audacity of devoting his entire scientific career to stellar physics, wondering about the mysteries of our friendly neighbourhood Sun, an  area which  happens to be  at the bottom  of  the pecking order  as  far  as the  current Astrophysics snobbery goes.

Sun, the ultimate arbiter of human civilisation's fate, has fascinated mankind from the beginning of history.   And yet the attraction of Sun in popular  psyche has waned  over the years  to be replaced  by newer frontiers of science like cosmology. The author correctly notes that - 'the unwritten assumption (about solar physics) is that the underlying science is  a kind  of dry  boring science best  left to  the experts, unlike  the science  behind  cosmology or  particle  physics that  can excite general readers.'  So the author wishes to go against this bias by  trying his  hand  at a  popular  account of  the  physics and  the sociological effects of  the solar cycle after  writing two completely pedagogic textbooks  very well received by  practicing astrophysicists and graduate level  students (The physics of fluids  and plasma, 1998, CUP; Astrophysics for Physicists, 2010, CUP).

Our  lives  literally  revolve  around Sun,  a  rather  ordinary  main sequence star, through the  diurnal and the  annual cycles.   Both of these cycles are imposed upon us by the motion of the Earth - the spin around its own  axis, and the rotation in an elliptic path around the Sun. The  other natural cycle  is provided by  the Sun itself, in the form of the eleven year sunspot cycle which is at the heart of all the unusual solar  activities. It is  this third cycle that  Rai Choudhuri  talks about  in  his 'Nature's Third Cycle  :  A story  of sunspots' (2015,  OUP).  He accepts  the challenge of explaining  this behaviour  to  people  not  involved in solar  science  research  and intertwines this account with the tale of his own career.

Interestingly, we  have witnessed a  recent revival of an  interest in the Sun primarily because of two  reasons.  The more dramatic of these is the arrival of space weather upon us.  Solar flares launching bolts of  hot, electrified  gas stir  up magnetic  storms around  the Earth. Earlier the effects  of such space storms were hardly  noticed. But in today's electrically powered, space-based technology dependent society the impact  of the  space storm  induced by  such solar  activities is quite significant.   The other story  is related to long  term climate changes. Accumulation  of large timescale  data on climate  change and its correlation with  solar cycles has finally  brought the connection clear.  As a result, popular  accounts of the solar activity affecting climate  change, its  history and  its  effect on  space weather  have recently made  their appearance  on bookshelves  (for example,  Hoyt & Schatten 1997; Carlowicz & Lopez 2002; Brody 2002 etc.).

In contrast, `Nature's Third Cycle' in unique in its subject matter as it  explains the physics  behind  the  solar  cycle itself.   And  it certainly is not a popular science book intended for lay readers.  The author expects the readers to, at least, have worked through Resnick & Halliday (1966) (the absolute last word in high school physics) and in some  places  the  expectation  is even  higher.   The  real intended readership is the aspiring  physicists at undergraduate level upwards, the physics teachers and, of course, the practising physicists.

Sunspots are dark areas of irregular  shape on the Sun's surface, some as large as 50,000 miles (80,000 km) in diameter,i.e.,  they can even be seen  by naked eye. Their  incidence varies cyclically and  has an average  period  of  eleven  years. They  move  across  the  surface, contracting  and  expanding as  they  go  and actually  correspond  to regions of higher magnetic field that inhibit convection and result in reduced    surface   temperature    compared   to    the   surrounding photo-sphere. This is the reason they appear as dark spots compared to surrounding regions.   Because it is  rather difficult to  observe the Sun directly, records  of sunspots are almost  non-existent before the seventeenth  century but have only  been observed  through telescopes since the time of Galileo.   'Nature's Third Cycle' traces the history of sunspot  science from  the first  discoveries through  the numerous stages of  the puzzle to the  latest results on the  magnetic cycle of activity.

Magnetohydrodynamics (MHD),  governing the  behaviour of  plasma under magnetic field,  is a difficult  subject. The author manages  to bring the  basics of MHD  and dynamo  theory,  underlying the  physics  of sunspots, to a  level accessible to a  large non-technical readership. In the academic community Rai Choudhuri is known as a wonderful teacher and a brilliant scientist. He  uses his expertise as a teacher to take  the readers  effortlessly through  the complexities of solar physics.   One of the interesting  plus points  of this  book is  the section entitled "Notes" in the end. Apart from a list of popular and technical books as suggestion for further reading, the author provides a compilation  of chapter-wise appropriate research articles and his own clarifications  on various  issues. This would be  invaluable for experts and aspiring students alike.

As far as the style goes, it  is an unusual offering from a practicing scientist though  not  entirely  unexpected.  Arnab  Rai Choudhuri is known for his brutally honest opinion about everyone and everything;  sometimes  even  to the discomfiture  of  the  listeners themselves.  It is no wonder then that  he bares his soul in this book and gives the reader a glimpse of the real world of research, contrary to the  sanitary and impersonal fares  that we have typically come to expect.  I myself have seen part  of the story, narrated in this book, unfold in front of  my own eyes while I was a  graduate student in the physics  department of IISc.   And  we  all  know that  such  stories inevitably abound the corridors of every department of every research institution. On  the one hand, there  exist an unwritten code  to keep scientific writing objective  and impersonal.  On the  other hand, the practice of science  is a very human enterprise,  and personal clashes and disagreements are very much a part of this process.

To be sure, the maximal impact  of the book comes from this particular aspect as it makes the  book a compulsive reading. While this may inevitably  attract controversy, in my  view  this also  would be  of immeasurable value to those young readers  who are aspiring to take up research as their future career. Quite aptly, Nigel Weiss terms this book  as  the  'scientific  autobiography' of  Rai  Choudhuri, written  at a  time when the author  was undergoing treatment for  a life-threatening illness.

Also,  Rai  Choudhuri's  personal commentary  on the  struggling phase  of Indian academia is  quite valuable.   After completing  his graduate studies in  Chicago he made the decision to  return to India. At that time research facilities in India were limited and funding was minimal.  Yet, like many of his  peers, he and his students persevered and developed  a theoretical model  of Sun's magnetic cycle  which has been quite successful  in predicting the nature of  the upcoming solar cycle.   Over the  years Indian  research infrastructure  has improved significantly. But it needs to be remembered that the bunch of foreign returnees  like   Rai   Choudhuri  have made   an  invaluable contribution in shaping the Indian scientific  scene the way we see it today.  This historical  element,  touching upon  the  early phase  of Indian scientific research, is another invaluable aspect of this book.

There exist  some other minor points  which many people may  not agree with.  For his doctoral thesis  Rai Choudhuri worked with Eugene Parker, regarded as the most influential solar physicists of our time. He is one  of the originators of the flux  transport dynamo model, the currently favoured theoretical model of  the 11-year sunspot cycle. My personal feeling is that a  somewhat more impersonal depiction of this giant would  have been  more appropriate. Since  there does  exist the possibility of  a reader automatically assuming  a not-quite-objective view of  the author  precisely because of  his close  association with Parker.

I also  have some  reservations about the  author's faith  in citation index. It is, at best, a rather faulty indicator. We are forced to use it for  want of  something better.  But  readers outside  the research community  may not  be aware  of the pinch (or  the sackful,  that is needed in some cases)  of salt that should go with it. Moreover, for the general reader the  author order may not make much  sense. In fact in many branches  of physics the  author order is  strictly alphabetical. The Physical  Review Letters (PRL)  may not  be a very  good indicator either to illustrate the import  of a research article.  Because while PRL is arguably the last word  for areas like condensed matter physics it  certainly does  not  enjoy  the same  status in  the Astronomy  & Astrophysics community.

One  of my  minor  complaints about  this  book is  the  absence of  a photograph of  the physics department  of IISc.  Since the  author has included  a  picture  of  his  PhD institution,  it  would  have  been appropriate  to also  include a  picture of  his workplace  from where significant contribution of India to solar physics has emerged.

Physics Department (old building), IISc, Bangalore

 In summary, this  delightful, most unusual book on  the solar magnetic cycle, explains  the complex  science behind sunspots in  a wonderful manner and  goes far beyond being  a simple popular science  book.  It provides  more than  a glimpse behind  the  professional curtains  of leading scientific  research,  and  would  probably  end  up  greatly influencing many  a young minds  preparing to be the  practitioners of science in not-too-distant a future.

This review has been prepared with valuable inputs from Biman Nath and Niruj Mohan Ramanujan. The reviewer would like to thank both of them.
   

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Of an astrophysics student and a well-loved textbook..

The Durga Puja obsession of Bengalis is aptly summarised by a friend (Sukanya Sinha) in her recent Facebook status - "On Sunday night, as I flipped through TV  channels, every channel had identical images streaming Modi's speech live from the Madison Square! All except one, ABP Ananda, where the screen was split in half -- half of it showed the same image as other channels and half showed the crowd building up in the Durga Pujo pandals on Chaturthi day in Kolkata." 

For us, 'prabasi bangali's (Bengalis living outside Bengal), it also brings the chance to buy cartloads of Bangla books (without the attendant worry of  transporting them from West Bengal) when bookstalls are set up at prominent Puja Pandals. Of course, books have always been an integral part of Durga Puja. The tradition of  bringing out 'sharadiya' (puja special issue), started by Rabindranath Tagore, is continued with great enthusiasm by every publisher, big and small, of Bangla books.

In our childhood, before the days of 'information at your fingertips', the 'kagaj-kaku's (paper-delivery uncle) used to be literally mobbed by neighbourhood children for information about the arrival dates of these puja specials. And we wholeheartedly devoted the long puja vacations (a month long  affair in West Bengal starting from Durga Puja and ending only after Kali Puja/Diwali) to these big, fat volumes. Well, not  entirely. Those days, for the West Bengal state board schools, the annual examination used to start immediately after this vacation. For us, it meant a thoroughly unfair tug-of-war between the 'sharadiya's and the text books.

Curiously, over the years, the odds have slowly changed in favour of the dark horse. A book-bucket challenge has recently been doing its rounds in the social media. For a while I quietly enjoyed looking at my friends' lists - sometimes rejoicing to find some of my favourites appearing in them, and despairing at most other times to realise how ill-read I really am. Then, like it must have happened to many, I was asked to do the same by a well-meaning friend. Of course, as many of you know, I slimed out of the challenge by giving a list of completely technical physics textbooks! 😀

But, to be honest, the response was not a total gimmick. After all, technical books are interwoven into the lives of people who do academics for a living. So this cheeky act on a social media platform got me thinking about these absolute favourites of mine. One such is the "Classical Electrodynamics" by J.  D.  Jackson. An enduring classic, as far as basic physics textbooks go, which has seen many professionals through their entire career, from early undergraduate days to the mighty professorial phase.

The book was as revered as it was feared by most of our undergraduate class. Of course, the physics department of Presidency College has always had a tradition of being chock-a-block with outrageously brilliant students. Even though by the time we entered its hallowed portals the fraction of such students had gone down substantially, there still were a a couple who stood several heads taller than most   of us. Rumour was that these not-so-ordinary-mortals were swimming through the hugely advanced texts like "The Classical Theory of Fields" by L. D. Landau and E. M. Lifshitz! And there were some diligent souls patiently working their way through the dusty copies of "Classical Electricity and Magnetism" by W.  K. H. Panofsky and M. Phillips, rescued from some obscure corner of the college library. But for the ordinary mortals, the choices were limited. Of course, everyone had a copy of Jackson because it was almost the only reputed text that was available in a low priced Indian edition (see postscript). But Jackson is not an  easy book, definitely not for an ordinary kid straight out of high-school. So except for those few enlightened souls, most of our class was limping through the electromagnetism course (as classical electrodynamics used to be called then) with Jackson being not much of a support.

Few months down the line it was time for the Calcutta Book Fair and 'Introduction to Electrodynamics' by David J. Griffiths arrived on the scene! Unlike most other technical texts, Griffiths made its maiden appearance directly in an Indian edition i.e, with a price-tag that is a fraction of its international version. By next week the entire class had got hold of Griffiths and many never looked back. It goes without saying that Griffiths is no classic but it does allow an ordinary student to navigate the subject on his/her own. One of the cherished memories of my masters days at IIT-Kanpur is of working through Griffiths sitting under an eucalyptus tree in the sprawling lawns of the girls' hostel. I never attended any of the electrodynamics classes in all of the two semesters but it was great fun spending time with Griffiths. One major difference between Griffiths and Jackson is the system of units adopted - while Griffiths used the more popular SI or MKS (meter, kilogram,  second) system, Jackson stuck to the more basic cgs (centimeter, gram, second) system.

After Kanpur I joined a PhD program in Astrophysics. In the very first class we  were told by a professor that he would exclusively use the cgs system, and so would all his colleagues. And the reason he produced for this was peculiar, to say the least. Apparently, the astrophysical quantities are so huge that it makes little difference whether we use cgs or MKS!

Unfortunately this view, jokularly put out by Astrophysicists, did nothing to help us, the beginners. Upon learning that I have joined an Astrophysics program a  friend commented  -"I understand hereafter you'll place your error bars in the exponent (power of 10)!". I had every intention of telling him (who was working in the string theory group of a very prestigious institute) - we at least make some measurements to place the error bars on, same can't be said about your discipline. But of  course, thirty years ago, in the absolute heyday of string theory, a mere Astrophysics hopeful could never utter such things. Not even to a friend. Though over the years I have felt that the sheer beauty of trying to extract information about unbelievably distant objects from extremely faint  electromagnetic waves is a terrific privilege to be perturbed by such jibes.

Also herein lies the magic of the cgs system which our professor alluded to. I had the opportunity of knowing this giant of a physicist from close quarters later. He remains, till this day, a very dear friend and mentor (I actually managed to collaborate with him on a rather controversial piece of investigation twenty-five years down the line). Only after becoming familiar with his passion for the anti-climactic way of delivering the punchline, I realised that the main point was actually stated in a more matter of fact way which most of us missed the first time. Astrophysics  is really mostly about electrodynamics. Because our window to the universe is mainly through the electromagnetic spectrum. And the governing equations of electrodynamics take much simpler forms if the cgs system of units is used.

So my love for Astrophysics put a definite end to my affair with Griffiths. It was time to bring the old faithful out of wraps. I now had all the legitimate reasons and a bit of maturity (physics-wise) to go back to Jackson. And it has remained a lifelong companion. Like any other classic (whether technical or literary) it has several layers that I still am discovering after all these years. Seeing my obsession with this book a dear friend once gifted me with a hardbound, international edition of Jackson (we were old enough not to worry about the price anymore). By this time I had so much respect for this tome that this gleaming book has since been occupying a prominent place in my office bookshelf while the ancient, dog-eared Indian edition gets me through my everyday life as a struggling astrophysicist.

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Postscript :

Even though in that distant past 1 USD was equal to Rs.11 and a GBP could be had at a mere Rs.17 (Euro was yet to be born), the price of textbooks in their original international editions (most  advanced technical texts were available only in such versions) were not in the comfort zone of students from middle class families. Incidentally, our generation was almost the first  to see the low-priced Indian editions appearing slowly, to the utter delight of a huge population of students. But the prevailing frustration sometimes gave rise to innovative  black humour that used to spread amongst the student community sometimes with a speed  unthinkable in that era when instant communication through cellphone/e-mail/internet was unheard of.

We had just reached the department one morning when a classmate walked in, waving a brand new copy of the Indian edition of a particularly sought after book and declared that the cost was about a third of the international edition. A collective sigh of despair escaped since most of us had bought the international edition not very long ago. One particularly irked student commented - the price has come down because it now has a foreward by Prof. so and so (an Indian scientist of some eminence who himself had published a number of texts that failed to catch the imagination of the student community)! The tart comment was not so much about the capability of the said Professor but a statement about the state of financial affairs of the student community of that time.

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In defence of our menfolk : 8 March, 2014

I enrolled in the Physics department of the (then) Presidency College for my undergraduate degree in 1983. There were six of us, girls, in a class of about thirty students. The female/male ratio wasn't any better in the Maths or Statistics departments either. Not surprisingly, men studying literature or biological sciences (where the concentration of women has traditionally been much higher) were eyed with intense envy by their counterparts from departments of mathematical sciences. And there was widespread sympathy for them. Unfortunately nobody thought about us, women who would end up living (professional, as well as personal in most cases) in a world with seriously skewed sex-ratio.

Thirty years ago, this was just the beginning of a journey for me. A good fraction of people choosing academic careers in India typically enter the modern equivalent of a "gurukul" thereafter. Since many of our top universities and research institutes are residential, a person like me often end up spending the rest of his/her working life in academic campuses.

I went to IIT-Kanpur for my M.Sc, after completing B.Sc. from Presidency College. The f/m ratio in our class was not too different from that in the Presidency College. But there was one difference. This time we were actually doing better than the institute average (1 in 10). The reason being the reduced strength of humanities departments (there were no undergraduate students in the few humanities departments that did exist in IITs those days) and a complete absence of biological sciences.

Our PhD class in IISc, Bangalore was not bad. In fact, the fraction of women was 30%. This number is of some real significance. At this year's annual meeting of the  Astronomical Society of India at IISER-Mohali, Dr. Preeti Kharb, a colleague and friend from Indian Institute of Astrophysics, Bangalore presented some statistics  from all over the world. It appears that the fraction of women in science at the PhD level (which we can consider as the entry level for a career in academia) is about 30% for most of the advanced countries as well.

So we are not doing too badly at this level. The fact that the fraction progressively dwindles to much lower values as one goes higher up in the career ladder is, of course, a different story altogether (shall discuss this in a separate post). But the essence of all this is that we, women in academia, are a total minority. And are expected to remain so in the foreseeable future.

When the sex-ratio is this dismal at the student level, it is quite natural that most of our teachers have also been male. Consequently, we have had more male friends, collaborators, colleagues, mentors than female. Not surprisingly, most women also tend to pick up spouses from their own fraternity while most of their male counterparts need to look elsewhere.

The upshot of all this, combined with campus living, implies that most women in academia spend their  entire adult life surrounded by twice (or more) as many men than women. And people as lazy as myself (or my husband) also typically combine their vacations with working visits to other institutes and consequently hardly ever go out of the community (barring rare once a year visit to the family home or such like). Meaning, we only see folks from our own academic community (of course, their spouses + children too), which is more than two-thirds male.

So we get more than our fair share of men around us than an average woman in another profession or from a previous era. And my opinion of these men - in roles ranging from classmates, friends, teachers, collaborators, students, spouses (and very recently as fathers too) - is pretty positive.

We need to remember that these men were raised by mothers who were women of a different era. Those women never dreamed of jeans-clad 'badhu-mata's (daughter-in-law) scooting away for days on end leaving the care of the household (+ young children) at the hands of their husbands. Or that the men of the house would have to learn changing diapers from day one, or take up kitchen duties as and when required. Or that they would need to handle the tricky situation of mentoring young, impressionable girl students going through certain emotional rough patches! Basically, the mothers of today's men had no clue about the kind of demands that would be made of their sons, be it at the workplace or at home.

Women have traditionally been expected to learn the ropes and survive through every possible adverse situation. But nobody thought that men too would be in need of survival training to plod through the mundane household chores or to walk the emotional minefields at workplace.

Given this tremendous handicap, I find men doing exceedingly well all around me. The constant complaints about men not contributing as much towards household chores is also a bit of a myth really. In academia, most people spend a few years abroad during their post-doctoral phase. This is when they are most likely to have a young child. Invariably, men get to do the dishes (or other work of similar nature) in every family. Because they never train for household work, they automatically get assigned to the most menial of tasks. Such humility from the section who have always been used to lord over everyone and everything is so refreshing. Difficult to visualise Indian men of a previous generation fitting into such roles.

They also take a serious interest in their children and spend real quality time working on that.  A  friend of mine, despite being a very busy scientist, is actually going through a series of children's books by Roald Dahl because his young daughter is now reading them. And he would like to be in  touch with her interests. When we were young, many fathers were not even aware of the class in which their children were studying till they were close to their first big board exam!

We do find ourselves in a difficult situation. After all, women went through a very rapid and very major transformation both in their perceived and actual roles in recent decades. Whereas the men have neither been completely aware of and have been even less prepared for the required paradigm shift. But we need to remember that while these are the men who have helped us being where we are today, they are also the same people who are facing certain existential challenges without anyone wishing to acknowledge their problems.

So how can we remedy the situation? After all, these are our men - our friends, colleagues, teachers, boyfriends, husbands, brothers.. And it's actually the previous generation of women who have left these men in the lurch. It only befits us, the women of the current generation, to be a little sympathetic while they adjust to their new roles. Bring your men upto scratch, and that would be the best service you can render to the next generation who, hopefully, would not have any need for a thought like this.

Note : The  discussion here pertains only to a certain section of Indian society (mainly middle class folks in and around academia) and does not refer to situations prevailing elsewhere.