Meet Harish Natarajan, a champion debater who recently triumphed over IBM’s AI debater
Harish Natarajan loves arguing. It has helped him win debates against his parents at dinner table conversations when he was young. It has helped him scale heights in debating circles — he holds the world record for most debate victories. And recently, it helped the 31-year-old triumph over IBM’s artificial intelligence debating system, affectionately dubbed ‘Miss Debater’.
His victory has been celebrated across the globe, thanks to the recent emphasis on man-vs-machine clashes. At his nondescript house in Chennai’s bustling T Nagar, where he is for a day for his grandfather’s birthday celebrations, a jet-lagged Harish is nonplussed about all the worldwide attention. “Before the clash, part of me thought that a machine couldn’t be as good as humans in debating. But then, I knew that a machine had beaten chess champion Garry Kasparov in the past. So, winning against the AI was somewhat of a relief. Maybe in a couple of years, if IBM continues developing the debating side of AI, I’d be happy to have a go at it again… and then, that would be real achievement,” he says.
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Who’s Harish Natarajan?
A 31-year-old, settled in the UK, and among the world’s best debaters
He recently defeated IBM’s AI-powered debating system in a live face-off
Is currently involved in coaching people from less developed debating circuits
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The topic given to the two was about pre-school subsidies, and Harish went about treating the clash like he would with any human. “The first 30 seconds, of course, were strange — I realised I was up against this giant ballot box. But after that, as the AI was making arguments, I kept noting what my responses ought to be. At times, it was putting forth points that I couldn’t really deny. But I was always thinking: How do I use its words against it?”
One of the reasons Harish was able to outsmart the machine in the 25-minute rapid-fire exchange was the emphasis he gave to ‘emotion’ during his arguments. “Emotion elevates the importance of what you’re saying. There were moments when even the machine was trying to evoke emotion. But I did have an edge because, when I talk about experiences, it comes across as more genuine partly because… well, I’m not a machine.”
Point of the matter
His parents are both from Chennai, but Harish was born and brought up in the UK, and has been debating since he was 16. “I was relatively good at school, but I discovered I wasn’t up there once I went to the bigger debating world.” His time at Cambridge helped him put a lot more effort into this side of things. “I realised that I enjoyed debating and had the aptitude for it. Eventually, with practice, I got better.”
Today, he has participated in more than 2,000 debates and is among the world’s best, but Harish has never been too happy with his performances. “That’s why I never re-watch any of my debates, because I am always thinking what more I could have done,” he says.
There have been times when Harish has been caught off guard. At one debate, the topic in front of him was: commercialisation of feminism. “I remember thinking that I had no idea what it was. But I got back home, and read a lot about it. So, a few months later, when a similar topic came up in another debate, I knew a huge deal about it and my teammates gave me looks like: ‘why do you know all this?’” he laughs.
He’s always reading something or the other. “There are things that I don’t care about much, but I know a great deal about. I’ve read so much about academic feminism and elements of climate science in my life. Personally, I like reading about economics and international relations, but as a debater, I have to absolutely keep reading everything under the sky.”
All this reading has helped Harish incorporate debating into his everyday life. “If I read an article in a newspaper, I always think: what is the underlying argument here? With respect to anything I read, I’m always debating within myself. It has now become a way of thinking.”
Out in the world
When he’s not out there debating or attending to his day job — he works as Head of Economic Risk Consulting at AKE International — Harish loves watching football or catching up on a show on Netflix. He loves travelling as well.
“There’s a big difference between having knowledge about a place and actually experiencing something there,” he says, “My last big trip was to Astana, the capital of Kazakhstan. What shocked me about the city was that it looks different from anywhere else in world. It looks empty, but there are giant buildings everywhere.”
Currently, Harish is involved in coaching people from less developed debating circuits. “In April, I’ll be in China. A few years ago, I was part of World University Debating Championships right here in Chennai. India has a vibrant school circuit, a good educational system and the parental pressure on children to succeed is huge… and so logically, should be among the best debating countries in the world. Debating at the school level has developed a lot of late and I predict Indian students to be among the best in the next few years,” he wraps up.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Srinivasa Ramanujam / February 20th, 2019
Chennai-born, US-based social entrepreneur and impact investor Kunal Sood talks about instigating further futurism via tech-vestments
Having spent the past 20 years of his life in the US, Kunal Sood, the Founder of X Fellows and Partner at X Impact Group, uses technology to drive change. A TED Resident and Ambassador to Singularity University NYC, the 41-year-old empowers entrepreneurs and innovators to turn their dreams into reality.
Kunal’s expertise ranges from psychology degrees to being a global health scientist to, of course, entrepreneurship. All this culminates in two important bodies: X Fellows and Novus Summit.
X Fellows, a privately-held community of entrepreneurs, is considered the inner-circle of innovators with companies.
Excerpts from an email interview:
Working with world leaders
My work with world leaders is primarily about building extraordinary citizens. The men and women shaping the future of our planet can find common ground around solving our global challenges.
People sometimes ask me ‘what do the Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi and the President of Estonia, Kersti Kaljulaid have in common?’ I’ve been fortunate to play an important role in helping them unite around solving our world’s most urgent problems. Leaders that live their values in action help drive real-world results.
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Hear it from the leaders
As the founder and chairman of Novus Summit launched at the United Nations General Assembly Hall in 2016, Kunal has put the world’s most accomplished and exponential leaders together.
Such figures include Peter Diamandis, Anousheh Ansari and Astro Teller on stage, alongside tech titans like Sunil Mittal, Reid Hoffman and Marc Benioff.
Expect stories of transformation with a global audience of delegates representing 193 countries, consisting of Heads of State, UN Ambassadors and Youth Leaders.
While 2019’s summit on July 20 – to celebrate man’s landing on the moon – is invite-only, Kunal shares there will be a line-up of astronauts, influencers, artists, policy-makers and storytellers present.
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My hope is to make X Fellows and Novus Summit the pre-eminent gatherings at the UNGA, for exponential leaders to unite in action and work to achieve the 17 UN Global Goals.
The Indian influence
Growing up in Chennai was my toughest lesson in life early on, and given where I am today, the biggest blessing. My life, when I was around eight years old, shifted drastically, and I suffered both physically and mentally. While others excelled academically, I was left behind — often lost and without an understanding of why I was not able to keep pace.
My experience taught me how to relate to people with compassion and extraordinary resilience. India continually influences me because my late mentor Dr T J Cherian was a renowned cardiologist and served as a father figure in my life.
The birth of X Fellows
The idea of X Fellows was born out of the extraordinary courage of people like Dr Cherian. The programme was also born out of the need I see in the world to create a new league of extraordinary citizens. It is focused on the vision that we are all gifted, even when seemingly cursed.
Given the fast and accelerated pace at which exponential technology is outpacing our lives, I have learnt that the right community with sparking the right kinds of stories can bring about real impact. Together, they drive a sense of urgent action and offer a genuine opportunity to learn, connect and create something that is larger than us and truly extraordinary at its core.
We have entities such as Astro Teller of Google X, Anousheh Ansari of X Prize and Craig Hatkoff, founder of Tribeca Film Festival and Disruptors to name a few involved with X Fellows.
Tech talk
X Fellows is unique in technology because we believe in the power of mass customisation. Exponential technologies, be it Artificial Intelligence, 3D printing, or life-saving drones, can help us design individual solutions at an unparalleled scale. For example, a child who needed a prosthetic limb 20 years ago would face a lifetime of extremely expensive, poor-fitting choices. Today, tailor-made solutions are available at a fraction of the cost.
Sustainable solutions that are customised to the individual experience is where humanity is heading. By 2020, IDC analysts expect 3D printing global revenues to exceed $35 billion. It is human nature to want to create something that improves your life.
Human beings by nature are drawn to stories. Novus gives the youth a voice, as much as we give our elders a platform to share practical wisdom.
(As told to Akila Kannadasan)
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Sci-Tech> Internet / by Akila Kannadasan / February 04th, 2019
The orphanage closed down about 35 years ago, after which David and Martin were taken to Denmark by George, who used to run the home, in 1979.
Chennai :
Tracing his roots, a 40-year-old Danish man, David alias Shanthakumar has reached the city. He was given for adoption three decades ago. Born in 1978 to Dhanalakhsmi and Kaliamoorthy, David and his brother Martin alias Rajan were handed over to an orphanage in Pallavaram.
The orphanage closed down about 35 years ago, after which David and Martin were taken to Denmark by George, who used to run the home, in 1979.David was adopted immediately by a Danish couple, the next year Martin was also adopted by another Danish family. George then returned back to Chennai.David first came to Chennai in 2013. He wanted to begin the search for his roots from George. But he learnt that had died almost a decade ago. He had hit a roadblock.
“After continuous searching, David found out that his birth name was Santhakumar and that he had a brother whose birth name was Rajan, later rechristened as Martin. He found out that Martin also lived in Denmark,” said Anjali Pawar, a lawyer who is helping David find his parents.Thanks to social media, David found Martin on Facebook and connected with him. In 2014, David got in touch with Arun Dohle, the co-founder of ‘Against Child Trafficking’, an NGO helping people reunite with their birth parents.
The NGO workers helped David check the Chennai Corporation’s birth registry, and David found his brother’s birth certificate.
The document had an address of a residence in Tondiarpet — perhaps where his parents lived at that point in time. Through subsequent investigations, David found out that his parents had shifted to Tiruvottriyur. Now, David has a photo of him with his mother and his brother Martin. His search will continue.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Express News Service / January 10th, 2019
43-year-old Casper Anderson was adopted from India when he was 4 years old
Casper Anderson, a 43-year-old Danish citizen is a long way from home. He has travelled from Aalborg city, in Denmark, to Linganoor in Coimbatore to trace his family roots.
Born to T. Ayyavu and Saraswati of Linganoor in 1975, Mr. Anderson was put in a children’s home when he was only 30 days old. In 1979, a Danish couple adopted him. “Ever since I came to know that I was adopted, I wanted to know about my biological parents. Before adoption, I was called Raja Kumar,” Mr. Anderson told reporters in Coimbatore on Saturday.
This is the second visit of Mr. Anderson, a graphic designer, to Coimbatore in his attempt to find his biological parents. He approached the media after his efforts did not yield results. He said he spent his early years at the Blue Mountain Children’s Home, Coimbatore, which was run by Mary Catherine and Prakash.
The reason stated in the adoption order was that Mr. Ayyavu could not take care of the child after he suffered a paralytic attack and his wife left him. Based on an order from the district court, a Danish couple, Keld and Birthe Anderson, had adopted the child. A Netherlands-based organisation named Against Child Trafficking (ACT) came forward to help Mr. Anderson.
Trip to Linganoor
In his second visit, Mr. Anderson visited Linganoor with the help of ACT’s executive director Arun Dohle, ACT’s consultant in India Anjali Pawar and members from the Tirupur-based Centre for Social Education and Development. They were told that a person named Ayyavu was living with his mother Mariammal near Karuparayan temple at Linganoor.
Elderly residents said that they had never seen Ayyavu after he sold his property and left the place around 1986.
Though the team attempted to collect documents related to the adoption, nothing could be traced.
“We are doubtful about Mr. Anderson’s ‘adoption’ as he was not an orphan and had his father and grandmother. It could have been a case of child trafficking. Child trafficking has happened on a large scale in the name of adoption in the past when the formalities involved were not considered very seriously by the authorities. The sad fact is that such trafficking is still happening,” said Ms. Pawar.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Coimbatore / by Wilson Thomas / Coimbatore – January 05th, 2019
An opportunity to keep our culture and heritage alive, says vice-president of International Anglo Indian Federation
After nearly half a century, Norman Remedios of Canada has returned to India to celebrate his roots. He, along with other Anglo Indians from across the globe gathered in Chennai for a reunion on Monday.
It was a day of nostalgia at the 11th World Anglo Indian Reunion 2019 as people relived old memories and revelled in the the bond they shared despite being spread across the world.
Reflecting the jubilant mood at the event, Mr. Remedios said: “This is my first trip to Chennai. I am back in my home country after five decades. I came here to greet and share memories with the community that I lost touch with when I left for Canada from Kolkata.”
The St. George’s Anglo Indian Higher Secondary School, Poonamallee High Road, had over 600 people from the community recounting memories of their homeland.
Nostalgic trip
Withbert Payne from the U.S. has not missed a single reunion since it was started in 1989. He too, like many others, left India when he was a teenager. “I have read several books on the community. This is one way to trace my roots. I have taken my children to events in the past to introduce them to my culture,” he said.
Earlier, Governor Banwarilal Purohit recalled memories of his school days when he was tutored by Anglo Indian teachers. He elaborated on the contributions of the community in various fields, including railways, education and military services.
Harry MacLure, vice-president of International Anglo Indian Federation, said “We organise such events once in three years in various parts of the world. This year, we have people from places such as Canada, Australia and the Netherlands, as well as from across India. We strive to keep our culture and heritage alive through such events.”
The week-long reunion will also showcase the community’s glorious past to youngsters and discuss their future and career opportunities, according to Geoffrey Francis, president, Anglo Indian Association of South India. Participants will go on a city tour, visit a photo exhibition, take part in a literary event featuring books on the Anglo Indian community as part of the reunion.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Special Correspondent / Chennai – January 08th, 2019
Iyappanthangal physician has a collection of stamps of Indians honoured abroad
But for a stamp autographed by Mother Teresa, Dr. M.K. Sudhakar has got almost all stamps issued in her honour. The doctor has got a collection of Mother Teresa stamps issued by 80 countries which include Albania, Austria, Argentina, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Bosnia, Cuba, France, Germany and Mongolia.
The philatelist is a general medicine practitioner residing in Iyappanthangal.
“Most of the stamps that I have collected can be themed as Indians honoured abroad. In addition to Mother Teresa’s stamps, I have stamps of Mahatma Gandhi, Rabindranath Tagore and M.S. Subbulakshmi issued by other countries. Around 150 countries have issued stamps in honour of Mahatma Gandhi. The recent addition was a stamp issued in North Korea,” says Sudhakar.
His collection of Tagore’s stamps are from Argentina, Bangladesh, Brazil, Russia, Sweden and Mozambique.
He has preserved the stamps collected by his father as well.
“My father has collected stamps of Mahatma Gandhi. They have become crinkled with age. Preservation of stamps is a big challenge. I laminate them in oleophobic-coated sheets and have them filed in albums. I also preserve the pamphlets issued along with the stamps. They give key information about the personality,” says Sudhakar.
The other themes in his collection include Bharat Ratna awardees. The first day cover of Defense Research and Development Organisation autographed by Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam and stamps on Air India are also part of his collection.
“For me, stamp collection is a stress buster. I find the act of arranging them categorically so relaxing. In the process, you learn a lot. As I chose to collect stamps issued in honour of great people, I got to know more about important events in history,” says Sudhakar.
Sudhakar is an active member of South Indian Philatelic Association for Stamps.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by L. Kanthimathi / November 16th, 2018
When A K Chettiar asked Subhas Chandra Bose to smile for a picture, he was told, ‘I do not smile under orders’
In the winter of 1937, Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose spent six weeks in Badgestein, Austria, recouping his health. A few photographs, shot against the background of the snow-covered hills, have survived from those days. Dressed in a heavy coat Netaji is seen with A C N Nambiar, Hedy Fülöp-Miller, his nephew A N Bose and Emilie Schenkl. These photographs were shot by a most unlikely person. The man behind the camera was a self-effacing young man of twenty-six, born in the dry hinterland of the Tamil country.
Annamalai Karuppan Chettiar or A K Chettiar (1911-1983) was a journalist who had edited journals in his hometown of Karaikudi, and later in Rangoon. Barely two months before photographing Netaji, on a voyage from New York to Dublin, he had hit upon an audacious idea. He wanted to make a documentary on Gandhi based near-exclusively on footage already shot by various news agencies and amateurs. To realize this dream he circumnavigated the world twice even as the World War was imminent, collected over 50,000 feet of actual footage, produced the documentary, and released it first in Tamil, in August 1940 (and a little later in Telugu). In 1950 it was made in Hindi. In 1953, he remade the film in Hollywood and released it under the title Mahatma Gandhi: Twentieth Century Prophet. But all this was later.
A few years earlier, Chettiar had trained in the Imperial College of Photography in Tokyo and later in the New York Institute of Photography. While studying at New York, he interned with the famed Pathé News agency. Even though he was critical of the Nazis, he had come to Germany, for 10 weeks, to train under Karl Vass of the Nazi Propaganda Bureau.
It was at this time, in December 1937, that Chettiar wrote to Netaji from Vienna asking to film him. We do not know why he wanted to film him — it is likely that it was for his film on Gandhi. Chettiar’s original documentary on Gandhi not having survived — Chettiar could beat the British censors and the police during the Quit India movement but not the apathy of his countrymen — we do not know for sure.
Netaji replied promptly. But the letter carried only a post box number. Chettiar did not hesitate. He promptly took a train early next morning, and arrived late in the evening at Badgestein. He planned to check into a hotel room, hoping to enquire of Netaji’s whereabouts at the post office later.
At the train station was a swarm of hoteliers, and Chettiar chose one. But the agent soon handed over Chettiar’s luggage to another man. When they reached the hotel a surprised A C N Nambiar emerged wondering how Chettiar had managed to trace him. Soon they surmised that the hotelier had assumed that a brown-skinned man could have come only to meet Netaji and had brought him there.
At the dinner table was A N Bose, the son of Netaji’s elder brother studying at England who was visiting his uncle. Two women, Fülöp-Miller, a writer and “a younger woman, Subhas Babu’s secretary whom he later married”, Emilie Schenkl, were present as well.
Ignoring Chettiar’s protests that it was too late in the evening to bother the great man, Nambiar announced that Netaji, lodged in an adjacent room, would meet them soon. But before he made his appearance the wine bottle on the table was put away. Chettiar felt edgy — he never imagined that he would be able to meet Netaji in person, and at such close quarters. He thought to himself, “So many lakhs of people in India were eager to have a darshan of Subhas babu. Few could meet him alone in India. But here I was and wondered at my great fortune.” As he greeted the leader with folded hands, he trembled.
Netaji put him at ease. Enquiring after him, Netaji did not stop with checking with the hotel owner if everything was fine. He took Chettiar to his room, checked on the amenities and showed him the use of the toilet facilities. An emotional Chettiar could barely sleep that night. Tossing in bed he woke up unusually late the next morning.
The next day it was lunchtime before he met Netaji. At the table, Chettiar observed, Netaji’s conversation was marked by “resolve and humour”. Chettiar snapped a number of pictures in the afternoon. The following morning Chettiar made Netaji sit on a chair at the hotel entrance. But when asked to smile, he replied: “I do not smile under orders.”
It was a cold winter day, and Chettiar could barely click the camera with gloves on, and therefore he removed them. By the time he had clicked twice his fingers had become numb. Blood began to ooze from his fingers. Netaji rushed to him, bandaged his fingers with his handkerchief, and ordered that it was “enough of taking pictures”. The next day, the shooting continued with Chettiar’s new and expensive moving camera. Chettiar’s work was over in three days. But Netaji asked him to stay for a few more days. Chettiar observed in his memoir, written 24 years later, “I had the fortune of staying with Subhas Babu for one whole week when all I had requested was a couple of hours.” One afternoon he also had the privilege of going out with Netaji and his group on a sleigh drawn by dogs. When Chettiar left for Rome from Badgestein, Netaji helped Chettiar with purchasing the tickets.
This was not Chettiar’s only meeting with Netaji. A year later he filmed him during the Congress working committee meeting at Wardha. Two years later, when in Calcutta, Chettiar went to meet him. At the Elgin Road residence, Chettiar was taken by Netaji’s secretary to his bedroom. Netaji was resting on his bed after lunch. Apologizing, he said, “When I meet familiar persons I do not observe formalities,” and pointed to the wall. The photographs snapped by Chettiar at Badgestein hung there. “I love the snow,” said Netaji.
The author is a historian and Tamil writer based in Chennai
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, Online Edition / by A.R. Venkatachalapathy / October 30th, 2018
The oldest recorded Indian in Japan impacts the country’s culture even today
The Indian diaspora in Japanhas historically been small, but has encompassed a colourful cast, from revolutionaries to textile traders. The oldest documented Indian resident in Japan, and arguably the most influential, was Bodhisena, a monk from Madurai whose outsized impact on Japanese culture persists even some 1,300 years after he docked on the archipelago’s shores.
Bodhisena, or Bodaisenna as his name is pronounced in Japanese, was born around 704 AD. His life and journeys exemplify the multi-directional flows of Buddhist influence and the complex ways in which these tied swathes of Asia into a civilisational embrace. Like many South Asian Buddhist monks, Bodhisena came to believe that Manjushri (the bodhisattva of wisdom) lived on the Chinese mountain of Wutai, and therefore travelled there to pay obeisance. While in China, he met the Japanese ambassador to the Tang court, who persuaded him to carry on to Japan on the invitation of the then Emperor, Shomu (701-756 AD), a devout Buddhist.
Influence of Sanskrit
Bodhisena voyaged to Japan via Cambodia and Champa (central and southern Vietnam) with a gaggle of theological glitterati that collectively shaped much of the contours of Japanese Buddhism and courtly culture.
On board was Genbo, a bureaucrat of Emperor Shomu’s court at Nara, who had spent 17 years in China collecting over 5,000 Buddhist texts. Another shipmate, Kibi no Makibi, is linked to the development of the Japanese syllabary and script of katakana, still in use today. The influence of Sanskrit on katakana is sometimes attributed to the time Makibi spent travelling with, and learning from, Bodhisena. Makibi also introduced to Japan the art of Chinese embroidery, as well as the lyre, which as the koto, became a standard feature of Japanese court music.
The Indian themes
A disciple of Bodhisena from Champa, Buttetsu, rounded off the band of monastic travellers. Buttetsu went on to teach a style of dance that featured themes taken from Indian mythology, set to a musical rhythm, common in South Asia, but unknown at the time in Japan. These dances became known as rinyugaku and were absorbed into the local artistic oeuvre.
Bodhisena’s ship docked at Osaka in 736 AD and the group made their way to the capital: Nara. It was during the Nara era (710-784 AD) that Buddhism, buttressed by learnings from Tang dynasty China, became firmly established in Japan, overcoming initial resistance from the Shinto-devoted elite. Under Emperor Shomu Buddhism was granted official recognition as a religion that was a “protector of the state.” Temples in Nara began to accumulate vast landholdings and wielded huge political influence.
The Kegon school
Bodhisena’s arrival in the capital took place within this context. Until then, Japan’s knowledge of Buddhism had been entirely mediated through either Korea or Japan. As an Indian, Bodhisena was immediately held in reverence and housed at Daian-ji temple, the preeminent education and research institute for Buddhism at the time. The Indian monk taught Sanskrit and helped establish the Kegon school of Buddhism, a variant of the Chinese Huayan school. He died in 760 AD and is buried in Ryusenji-temple on the slopes of Mt. Omine.
Unlike some historical Buddhist sects, the Kegon continues to flourish today, with its headquarters at Nara’s Tōdai-ji temple, a Unesco World Heritage site. Founded in 738 AD and officially opened in 752 AD, Tōdai-ji is best known for its 500-tonne, 15-metre-high Buddha — the largest bronze statue in the world.
The gargantuan sculpture, known as the Daibutsu, was commissioned by the Emperor in hope of gaining divine favour and thereby reversing the effects of a devastating drought, compounded by an outbreak of smallpox that had ravaged the area in 737AD.
The hall that houses the Daibutsu is one of the world’s largest wooden structures. It is Nara’s most popular tourist draw and is thronged with visitors from around the world. After gawping at the Daibutsu, they usually head to a hole in one of the pillars that holds up the edifice. According to legend, the hole is the exact size of one of the Buddha statue’s nostrils and anyone who crawls through it will gain enlightenment, albeit in their next life. No one seems to know the exact dimensions of the hole/ nostril, but it is large enough for a child to tunnel through with relative ease. A number of adult Chinese tourists attempt to pass, but all get stuck at the hip.
To one side of the main temple are the living quarters of the Morimoto family, the head priests of Tōdai-ji. The lodgings comprise a series of low-roofed rooms, interconnected by covered walkways, overlooking classical Japanese gardens, dotted with pine trees and rockeries. Seated in a reception area facing a late-blooming, weeping cherry tree, Kosei Moritomo sips from a cup of green tea. The Elder Moritomo (as he is respectfully known) has retired as the 218th head of Tōdai-ji and leader of the Kegon school of Buddhism. But he remains sprightly, his eyes lively and darting when he talks of Bodhisena, as though an old friend.
He dwells on the role of the Indian monk in the consecration ceremony of the Daibutsu. For it was Bodhisena, of all the eminent Buddhist scholars in Nara at the time, who was chosen to perform the statue’s “eye opening” ceremony. In front of a huge, cosmopolitan gathering that included ambassadors from Persia, Korea, Vietnam, China and Central Asia, Bodhisena painted the pupils on the eyes of the Buddha statue, inviting the spirit in to animate the sculpture.
“I think in India you understand about the spirit coming into the statue?” the Elder Moritomo asks. “It is a very difficult concept to explain to Westerners.” The former head priest turns reflective. He says that Japan has tried to dominate the world first by military means and then with its electronic industry. Both failed. “I believe it is in Buddhism that it can most exert an global influence,” he concludes.
Then he smiles and offers this writer another cup of tea.
The writer is a globetrotter who is currently parked in Japan.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Pallavi Aiyar / June 09th, 2018
The death of Lester James Peiris, the father of the ‘New Sinhala Cinema’, brings back to mind his winning in 1965, with his Gamperaliya (The changing village; 1963), the first Golden Peacock awarded and for taking Sinhala film-making not only out of Madras State studios but away from the clichétic Tamil film formula.
Lester was the London Correspondent of The Times of Ceylon when I was its Foreign News Editor in the 1950s. We were in regular touch during that period, when he was experimenting with film-making. When he returned to Ceylon he opted out of journalism and focused on cinema — first with government documentaries and then the making of a new kind of Sinhala film, one drawing inspiration from the realism of Italian and French films. We kept in touch, however, because Iranganie Serasinghe and Sita Jayawardana were two of his leading supporting actresses, both girls who worked with me in features and who were forever asking for time off for ‘shooting’ or who kept dozing after ‘night shoots’. But when I moved to Madras I lost touch with Lester whom many consider one of the greatest South Asian film-makers.
Lester made 20 full-length feature films and about a dozen documentaries and short films. He started with a winner, Rekawa (Line of Destiny, 1956), which focused on village life. It was the first Sinhala film to be shot entirely in the country and the first to be shot mainly outdoors. It was nominated for the Palme d’Or at the 1957 Cannes Film Festival. Gamperaliya, for its part, was shot entirely outside the studio. Besides the Golden Peacock, it also won Mexico’s top international film festival award.
The first Sinhala film to be made, Kadavanu Porundhuva (Broken Promise), was shot entirely in Madras and released in Colombo on January 21, 1947. It was produced by S M Nayagam, who was what they called in Ceylon an Indian Tamil (being from the Tamil districts of Madras Presidency) and who not only pioneered the making of Sinhala films but also the starting of local industries. The film was directed by a Bengali, Joti Sinha. This was followed by 42 other Sinhala films being made in Madras, Coimbatore and Salem. It was only in the 1950s that Sinhala films began to be made in Colombo, where Nayagam had established the first studio. But even then, till legislation in the late 1950s, technicians from Madras continued to work in Ceylon — and the generation of Sinhala technicians who followed them benefited considerably from their mentoring.
One of the earliest from Madras to direct Sinhala films was Anthony Bhaskar Raj. Lenin Moraes was another director from Madras where he had learnt cinematography and make-up. J A Vincent was Art Director for over 100 Sinhala films after starting out with Asokamala being made in Central Studios, Coimbatore. Another connected with Asokamala was experienced cameraman Mohamed Masthan who also shot Sujatha in Salem. When he moved to Ceylon, he was guru to a generation of Ceylonese cameraman. He later went into direction. Other directors from Madras to work in Ceylon included A S A Samy, P Neelakantan, L S Ramachandran who pioneered Sinhala films on village life, and A S Nagarajan. After having been a scriptwriter in Madras, Nagarajan moved to Ceylon and into direction. Among his films was Mathalan, based on the Tamil hit Mangamma Sabatham.
Starting from where the Madras technicians left off, Lester James Peiris gave a completely new face to the Sinhala film industry. R.I.P., Lester.
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They mined for diamonds too
My scrip-collecting correspondent, Sayeed Cassim, has sent me some fascinating material, responding to my gold rush story (Miscellany, April 23). The best of it is a share certificate issued by the Devalah (Devala) Central Gold Mines Company Limited in 1881. This was one of the first companies to be established— even before the gold rush began — and, as I had recorded, it was promoted by Parry & Co, though the certificate (my enlarged picture today) gives no indication of that.
Accompanying it are the headings of three other certificates, those issued by the Western Pathoom Gold Prospecting Company Limited, the Sonepat Proprietary Gold Mining Company Limited, and the Dumra Gold Prospecting Syndicate Limited. Having made a study of these three certificates, Sayeed Cassim feels that “these were companies set up only to rake in the money and hoodwink the public.” He bases his presumption on the fact that there are several identical features in these certificates which “make their intentions suspicious”. He lists the following:
Similar authorised capital of each of these companies:
Date of all issues very close together in 1890
Printer the same: Calcutta Catholic Orphan Press;
Per value of each share only one rupee (to induce greater subscription?), and
Certificates of Western Pathoom and Dumra signed by the same person.
But that is not all. Apparently there were optimists who thought that there were diamonds in the hills too and companies were formed to prospect for them. He names The Madras Diamond Mining Company Limited and The Madras Presidency Diamond Fields Limited. Were they genuine speculators or in it for the quick buck?
If you want to take a better look at these certificates, Sayeed Cassim suggests you have a look at the website of David Barry of London (www.indianscripophily.com), who has “the largest and finest collection of Indian share certificate in the world.”
The chronicler of Madras that is Chennai tells stories of people, places, and events from the years gone by, and sometimes from today.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture> Madras Miscellany / by S. Muthiah / May 14th, 2018
They are the biggest South Indian cinematic voice abroad. With at least six movies releasing in the next few months, the Tamil diaspora tells us how they are taking control of their own narrative
When Kabali opened globally in 2016, it outperformed all other South Indian films released till then, raking in $4.05 million in four days in the US alone. Rajinikanth’s larger-than-life role and director Ranjith’s depiction of Malaysia’s Tamil labourers also garnered much attention. But that is not to say everyone was happy. “It was a narrative of South Indian caste-based politics framed within an inaccurate Malaysian context,” explains Kuala Lumpur-based filmmaker Shanjhey Kumar Perumal, sharing that films like Kabali “don’t really represent our experiences”. Tamil-French actor and writer Anthonythasan Jesuthasan (who goes by the nom-de-plume Shoba Sakthi), concurs. “[These films] might have diaspora characters, but they are not diaspora movies,” he says.
Seven months earlier, Perumal had released his Tamil début, Jagat, which also portrayed the lives of Tamil Malaysians — many of whom are descendents of indentured labourers the British had working on rubber plantations. “After independence, we were forced to relocate to urban areas, but we had no understanding of life outside the plantation. As a child, I lived in a squatter’s community for three years, and what I saw there provided the inspiration for Jagat, a coming-of-age story about a boy living in a similar community,” he says. However, securing distribution was a trial, thanks to the competition from Tamil cinema, which is widely distributed in the country.
The new voices
From the shores of Fiji to the frigid suburbs of Toronto, the Tamil diaspora has, for many years, provided a loyal audience base for Kodambakkam’s Tamil cinema. But after generations of life away from India, they are keen to author their own stories. In fact, today, they are the biggest South Indian cinematic voice abroad. A few projects — like Singaporean director K Rajagopal’s 2016 début, A Yellow Bird, and Sri Lankan documentary filmmaker Jude Ratnam’s Demon in Paradise— have even made it to international film festivals like Cannes.
“Many have been living away from their native land for long enough that they have formed entirely new relationships with Tamil culture,” says Vaseeharan Sivalingam, founder of the Norway Tamil Film Festival (NTTF), a nine-year-old outfit. “Since the early 1980s, we have been experiencing a slow emergence of Tamil diaspora cinema, which has quickened in the past four to five years. This year, for the first time at NTFF (which is holding its annual awards ceremony later this month), we have six feature length films from the diaspora, most of them from Malaysia,” he adds. While some filmmakers have superimposed their local flair on the formulaic song, dance and comedy routine, others have eschewed them in favour of their own styles.
A first in 40
Born in Colombo and raised in Batticaloa and Kandy, Sri Lankan filmmaker King Ratnam was keen to showcase the diversity of the island’s Tamil population in his recently-released debut feature, Komaali Kings . “I was also motivated by anger,” he says, “because this is the first fully Tamil feature length film to be released here in more than 40 years. Why has it taken so long for us to represent ourselves as we are — the way we speak, our landscapes, our problems, our civil unrest?”
The film follows Pat, a middle-aged Londoner who returns to Sri Lanka for a wedding, but finds himself at the mercy of his relatives after he maxes out his credit cards. “I chose comedy because producers like it better,” laughs Ratnam, who sourced LKR 30 million for the film. “It’s also an attempt to hold a mirror to our own absurdity and originality. That is why, except for the 5.1 sound mixing that I did in India, everything about the film, technically and otherwise, is Sri Lankan. I did it to prove a point,” he says. He admits, however, there were challenges with distribution. “Because [local Tamil films] are such a new phenomenon in Sri Lanka, we received a lot of step-motherly treatment, but we finally managed to release it in over 50 cinemas here, and also in Toronto.”
Cross-border collabs
Meanwhile in Malaysia, recent films have been featuring collaborations with the Tamil film industry. Music composer Shameshan Mani Maran’s soundtrack for Sughamaai Subbulakshmi (SSL), a Tamil Malaysian film releasing on May 17, includes ‘Aasai Keertanai’, a single sung by Indian playback singer Chinmayi. “The entire process gives me useful insight into how Kollywood functions; we can learn a lot through their technology,” he explains.
Interestingly, SSL — described by director Karthik Shamalan as a “feel good family movie about a protagonist who has to choose between his passion (football) and an obligation” — almost started out as a Malay [language] film. But childhood memories of spending six to seven hours a day at the cinema hall where his father ran a canteen, watching Tamil moviegoers’ reactions, made Shamalan feel confident about entertaining them with his own work. “So I decided to début with Tamil, the language I am most comfortable with,” he says. On the ground, though, he had to overcome a few bumps. Production was stalled for two years due to financial problems, until an ex-boss helped him out.
SSL is premièring internationally at NTFF, where it has already picked up awards (announced last week) for best director and best actor (female). “The film is an accurate portrayal of local life in Malaysia, and comes with the formula of a mainstream Tamil movie and Malaysian flair,” says NTFF’s Sivalingam, pointing to Malay colloquialisms and songs filmed on sandy beaches a la Kollywood’s commercial releases.
Shamalan is also exploring a new market across the ocean in Singapore, where Tamil television has always been more popular than cinema, thanks to state-backed funding. In an effort to encourage film production in the island country, Singaporean TV director SS Vikneshwaran Subramaniam has collaborated with Shamalan on Atcham Thavir. Produced by Malaysian radio station Raaga, the thriller-comedy, set to release on May 31 (in Singapore, Malaysia and Chennai), is being marketed as a cross-border collaboration. “The film — about a group of friends attending a wedding and ending up in hot soup — is our way of telling the world that we are also doing Tamil movies,” shares Shamalan.
Staying true to self
The Atcham Thavir team wants their next project to transcend more borders. “We want to collaborate with the Indian film industry and make more global Tamil films,” says Subramaniam. This is a sentiment that is finding a few echoes among the diaspora. Like Singapore-based director Abbas Akbar, whose childhood friendship with Tamil music director Ghibran paved the way for his recently-released Kollywood debut, Chennai2Singapore. For Akbar, the decision to come to India was a no-brainer. “We’ll have to end up here at some point,” he chuckles. “There’s only one Tamil cinema. Where else would I go?”
That said, the majority of the diaspora film fraternity want to nurture their own industries. Perumal, whose film Jagat was the first Tamil feature to win the Best Malaysian Film award at the 28th Malaysia Film Festival in 2016, has turned down several offers to work in India. “I believe it’s important to establish the voice of the Malaysian Tamil film industry, so we can move away from Kollywood imitations,” he says.
Tamil-Canadian filmmaker Lenin M Sivam, who fled the Sri Lankan civil conflict as a 17-year-old, is of the same bent of mind. In 2009, he used the $10,000 credit limit on his credit card to fund his début feature 1999, a gritty narrative about the gang violence that swept through Toronto’s Tamil communities when he was a teenager. “I wanted to tell my own story — one that I had personal connections to,” Sivam, now 43, says. “I lost a lot of friends because of this violence, and I knew Kollywood would never tell a story like that. To quote the poet R Cheran, ‘Indian Tamil filmmakers making movies about Sri Lankan Tamil problems is like a fish riding a bicycle’,” he adds, smiling. The film, which found success and recovered its costs, premiered at the 2010 Vancouver International Film Festival, where it was named one of the Top 10 Canadian films of the year.
Craft and controversy
In his upcoming feature, Roobha, starring Shoba Sakthi, and releasing in September, Sivam is turning to a more controversial topic — a middle-aged, married Sri Lankan Tamil man who falls in love with a much younger transgender woman. “Even though we see many transgenders in mainstream Tamil movies, it’s almost a taboo topic within the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora,” he says. The story is penned by Shoba Sakthi, who played the lead role in Jacques Audiard’s Cannes 2015 sweep away, Dheepan .
The search for the titular character was tough. “No male actor from within the Tamil community wanted to kiss a man,” he says. “But when we expanded our search to outside the community, we found Amrit Sandhu, who plays the role [of Roobha] with a lot of depth and precision.” The film is funded in large part by a fellow Sri Lankan Canadian, Warren Sinnathamby, a successful businessman who has little film experience but a keen desire to tell hard-hitting diaspora tales. “The movie took four years of my life, but it was important that I saw it through. It’s a big [Tamil] community out here in North America, and we have a lot of stories to tell, and for as long as we can, we will keep telling those stories,” Sivam concludes.
* The other voices
Kerala-born, New Jersey-raised filmmaker Abi Varghese has played a pivotal role in the rise of Malayalam voices in diaspora cinema. After directing the Fahadh Faasil-starrer Monsoon Mangoes , and the Netflix-distributed sitcom, Brown Nation, he is working with fellow Malayali, actress Melanie Chandran (of Code Black), on a pilot for a female-led television series. “With platforms like YouTube and Netflix, people are creating content at a younger age,” says Varghese, who is gearing up for the release of his sitcom Metropark, starring Ranvir Shorey and Purbi Joshi. “Working in New York, you meet so many talented people that it’s easier than ever to tell your own stories in a truthful manner.” In his future work, he wants to explore stories rooted in Indian culture, and not necessarily diaspora lives.
Acting on a similar impulse, Telugu-American cardiologist Praveena Paruchuri, started working on a script about a Telugu-American medical professional. “I tried to learn more about Telugu art through my family, but it wasn’t vibrant in America, and I found more work in Tamil and Malayalam. Today, it’s encouraging to see Telugu media professionals here, like comedian Hari Kondabolu. When I travelled to Hyderabad, I met [filmmaker Venkatesh Maha], and we collaborated on my maiden production Telugu feature, C/O Kancharapalem. It explores untold local Indian stories, but in my next film, I am keen to portray diaspora lives,” says Paruchuri.
Meanwhile, back home, filmmaker Rajiv Menon, who founded Chennai-based Mindscreen Film Institute, says an increasing number of diaspora Indians are coming down to hone their skills. “We have many from Singapore, France and the US coming to learn filmmaking and acting, and a few have begun working on their projects back home,” he confirms.
* The right note
Malaysian rapper Yogi B believes “there are fewer walls between the diaspora and the mainland” in the world of Tamil film and music. Founder of the now defunct Poetic Ammo, he paved the way for other diaspora rappers like Sri Lankan Dinesh Kanagaratnam (ADK) and fellow Malaysian, Sri Pagenthiran (Sri Rascol), who have lent their lyrics and voices to Tamil cinema, most notably in AR Rahman’s ‘Showkali’ song in the 2016 hit, Achcham Yenbadhu Madamaiyada.
Keen to hone talent, they are now mentoring new musicians. Yogi B’s latest discovery, Indian rap group Madurai Souljours, will release their album next year, while Sri Rascol and ADK, under their label Rap Machines, have signed on the Sri Lankan group Tea Kada Pasanga.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Entertainment> Movies / by Sindhuri Nandakumar / April 20th,2018