Category: Meena Raghunathan

Stupid Toy Day? Makes No Sense!

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Every year on December 16, the internet celebrates something most households have tripped over, stepped on in the dark, or quietly wished would disappear: the “stupid toy.” Officially, it’s called Stupid Toy Day—a day devoted to toys that serve no obvious purpose, promise no educational outcomes, and stubbornly resist all attempts at being “enriching.” They do not teach coding. They do not build emotional intelligence. They simply… exist.

A “stupid” toy, as the internet defines it, is not broken or unsafe. It’s just inexplicable. It does one odd thing. It refuses to justify itself. It looks faintly ridiculous. Pet Rocks. Rubber chickens. Slime. Talking dolls that say things no one programmed on purpose. Lights that flash for no reason at all.

And honestly? That’s exactly why I think there is no such thing as a stupid toy. Because anything that gives joy to a child and it wants to spend time playing with, is a good toy! Whether store-bought, found at home or contrived from the most mundane things, whatever floats a child’s boat, is a toy. Entire generations have grown up playing with objects that contributed nothing measurable—and yet somehow contributed enormously to childhood.

The thing about calling a toy stupid is that the word never really belongs to the object. It belongs to the adult standing next to it and judging it.

When parents complain about “stupid toys,” they rarely mean toys that fail the child. They mean toys that fail them. Too loud. Too sticky. Too impossible to clean. Too bright. Too many pieces. Too much glitter. Too much slime. Too much mess. Too much noise. Too much… joy, possibly, expressed in a form that requires major clean-ups. Seems to me, most “stupid” toys are simply inconvenient toys. Toys which seem pointless to an adult.

AN ARVIND GUPTA TOY

But to my mind, there is one category of toys that are stupid. A toy becomes exponentially more “stupid” the minute it costs a small fortune. A plush animal that costs as much as a phone. A doll with a wardrobe bigger than yours. A remote-controlled something that breaks in three days. High price and low value—what could be stupider?

Brian Sutton-Smith’s work on toys and play is powerful. In Toys as Culture, he argues that toys don’t live in one neat category like “fun” or “education.” They exist in overlapping worlds—family, technology, education, and marketplace. Toys can be consolation, security and companionship. They can be tools, machines, friends, achievements. They are not just objects; they are emotional support.

A glitter jar might look like a mess waiting to happen.
To a child, it might be the universe in a bottle.

A noisy toy might feel like an assault on adult nerves.
To a child, it might be power.

A useless toy might be, in truth, a deeply useful one—the kind that absorbs loneliness, invents stories, and makes space for imagination.

We forget that children do not play with toys to improve themselves. They play to live inside themselves.

And children by themselves never measure toys by price or return on investment. But sadly, there is no refuting that peer pressure and media pressure have enormous influence on a child perceiving a toy as highly desirable. And that is a worry.

Stupid Toy Day, at its best, quietly reminds us that joy doesn’t require justification. It doesn’t need a developmental framework or a learning outcome chart. Play is not a performance. It is a state of being.

Basically, Stupid Toy Day is STUPID!

Honour the toy that made no sense but means everything. And remember: not everything precious needs to be practical. And in this holiday season, as we go about buying things left and right, remember, a child will be as happy playing with the cardboard carton as the toy which was packed in it. Remember Calvin, Hobbes and their time machine? And Arvind Gupta’s Toys from Trash? Money does NOT equal toy-joy.

–Meena

The Joy of the Bouncy Bite

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Did you know that Q is a word? No, not QUEUE, but just plain Q. It is the Taiwanese name for a range of textures best translated, imperfectly, as “bouncy.” It is the degree of chewiness of a given food and how it feels against the teeth and tongue.

If you’ve ever bitten into something that resisted you just a little—neither soft nor hard, but springy, elastic, and alive—you’ve probably encountered Q without knowing its name. Think sabudana, tapioca pearls in bubble tea, or handmade noodles that snap faintly between your teeth. That sensation—the cheerful recoil, the gentle resistance—is Q.

What makes Q fascinating is that it describes not one texture, but a spectrum. There is nen-Q, soft and tender; cui-Q, crispy-bouncy; tan-Q, chewy-springy. Noodles are Q: resilient but not rubbery, lively but not tough. (In the case of pastas, I suppose ‘al dente’ is the equivalent,) Even sweets and desserts aspire to it—marshmallows, herbal jellies or sweet potato balls.

In Taiwanese food culture, to say something is Q is high praise. Q is considered one of the keys to good food in Taiwan, on par with taste, color, and consistency. It’s not about indulgence alone; it’s about skill. Achieving Q often requires precise technique: the right ratio of starch to water, the correct kneading time, the ideal temperature.

What’s intriguing is how Q resists quick translation. “Chewy” is too blunt. “Springy” is closer, but incomplete. “Bouncy” catches the spirit but misses the nuance. Q is pleasant resistance, playful elasticity, a sassy texture. It invites you back for another bite. It’s the opposite of mushy or limp.

Q became a recognised food term in Taiwan in the late 20th century — roughly the 1980s to early 1990s,when it moved from slang into mainstream food language. Interestingly, the letter Q itself is not traditional Chinese. It entered Taiwanese usage as a borrowed symbol from English, chosen because:

  • the sound (“kyu”) suggested elasticity
  • the shape felt visually “springy”
  • and there was no single Chinese word that captured the idea precisely

At first, it was slang but now it’s formal enough to appear in Taiwanese dictionaries, culinary writing, product labels and restaurant menus

In Taiwan, the term has gone beyond the kitchen and found its way into everyday speech, where it can describe hair, skin, or even the bounce in someone’s step.

In a world increasingly obsessed with flavour profiles—smoky, umami, citrusy—we sometimes forget texture altogether. Yet Q reminds us that eating is as much about feel as it is about taste.

Q—Taiwan’s playful word for “bouncy”—captures that perfect bite: springy, chewy, lively, and irresistible. From bubble-tea pearls to handmade noodles, Q celebrates food that pushes back just enough. It’s a texture so prized in Taiwan that it’s become part of the language itself, standing alongside taste and aroma. Every culture has its version of Q—al dente pasta, mochi-mochi rice cakes—and we in India find it in sabudana, fresh idlis, rasgulla, modak and more. Q is not just what you chew, but what you feel: a small, elastic joy.

Maybe every culture has its own version of Q, a word for the textures it prizes most. Italians chase al dente, the Japanese revere mochi-mochi and kori-kori. But Taiwan’s Q feels particularly evocative—a single letter carrying a thousand sensations.

So the next time you sip a bubble tea and play absently with the pearls at the bottom, or tear into a dumpling that seems to smile back at your teeth, remember this small, clever word. Q is not just what you’re chewing. It’s what you’re feeling—a quiet, elastic joy.

And here is a tour of Indian Q foods that I can think of: sabudana, fresh idli, rasgulla, modak, noodles, dhokla,  sevai, and appam.

Any others?

–Meena

Sandow in our Lives

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The end of the year is a time of going back in time and re-living memories.

And one of the enduring memories for those of us who grew up in the  1950s, 60s and 70s, is the word Sandow. It was a part of everyday lives—an integral part of the pencil box, a dirty grey rubber that erased pencil marks.

For us in India, “rubber” was the term for eraser, a usage inherited from British English and reinforced through colonial schooling. A child did not “borrow an eraser”; they asked for a rubber. And the most trusted rubber of all in our times was the Sandow.

These erasers were made of natural vulcanised rubber, not vinyl or plastic as most modern erasers are. They were firmer, slightly gritty, and erased by abrasion — scraping graphite off paper rather than gently lifting it. They left dark crumbs behind and wore down slowly. A new Sandow rubber meant clean pages. A worn one told the story of errors made and lessons learnt.

Where did Sandow rubbers come from?

The earliest Sandow erasers were almost certainly manufactured in Britain and exported to India during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries through British stationery suppliers. During the colonial period, Indian schools depended heavily on imported notebooks, inks, slates and erasers.

Stupid Toy Day (December 16) is a celebration of the wonderfully useless things from childhood—rubber chickens, yo-yos, slinkies, and strange plastic objects that made no sense but brought endless joy. From ridiculous toys to unsettling antique dolls that now star in creepy museum contests, this post reflects on how toys—whether silly or sinister—stay with us long after childhood ends. A nostalgic look at why useless never really meant unimportant.

After Independence, Indian factories began manufacturing erasers using similar formulations and — crucially — the same name. By the 1950s, most Sandow erasers sold in India were produced locally. However, the word “Sandow” was never firmly trademarked in India, allowing multiple manufacturers to use it freely. Over time, it became not a brand but a category. “Sandow rubber” simply meant “the regular school rubber.”

Sandows were not the only erasers available. There were white, scented rubbers, with a gel-like coloured top. But alas, most of us never possessed one, given they were about four or five times more expensive!

And a Strongman called Sandow

Another Sandow (though of older vintage) was part of our childhoods too. He lived on barbershop calendars and tattered posters: a muscular European strongman frozen in permanent flex.

Eugen Sandow (1867–1925) was a Prussian-born showman, athlete and entrepreneur who became the world’s first international bodybuilding celebrity. He toured Europe, Britain and America performing feats of strength before royal families and packed audiences.

Sandow was much ahead of his time, and would have done great in the current days, surely becoming a hero of Insta reels, posing as he did to deliberately display his muscularity. He was also a businessman. He published training manuals, endorsed health products, sold exercise equipment, and promoted physical culture as moral discipline. King George V even appointed him “Professor of Scientific and Physical Culture” in Britain — a title that further elevated his image as a respectable authority on fitness.

In India, encounters were through his images — black-and-white posters, calendar art, tins, and labels that travelled through imperial trade routes. But nevertheless, his name was well known, whether with urban kids or rural youth.

Were the rubber and the strongman officially connected?

There is no evidence that Sandow ever licensed his name to an eraser manufacturer. No contract, no advertisement, no endorsement exists in any reliable archive.

However, the naming may have had a connection. The two existed at around the same time, and the name ‘Sandow’ symbolised durability, strength and European modernity. Calling an eraser “Sandow” suggested that it would last, work hard and not fail easily. In an era with loose branding laws, borrowing famous names for product credibility was common.

Today…

Now, erasers come in neon colours and cartoon shapes. Eugen Sandow is remembered only by historians and fitness professionals. But for those who grew up in that older India, the word still carries a double image: fingers dusted with graphite, and a chest forever flexed on fading paper.

Sandow was never just an eraser.
And Sandow was never only a man.

Both were a part of our simple, innocent youth!

–Meena

Photocredit: Wikipedia for Mr. Sandow

ebay for the Vintage Tin advertising the eraser

Listen carefully. Listen widely. Listen without assumptions: Gallup Polls

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For many of us who grew up reading international newspapers, Gallup was a familiar name—almost a synonym for “what America thinks.” Their polls were quoted in classrooms, editorials, speeches, and policy discussions. If Gallup said Americans trusted an institution, or were worried about unemployment, or supported a policy, it felt as if a nation had spoken.

November 19 marked the anniversery of the birth of the man who started it all–George Gallup, a career journalist. His interest in politics led him into the areana of forecasting polls, and he set up a company to do this. He set up the American Institute of Public Opinion in 1935 to do this, at a time when the idea of systematically measuring public opinion was almost revolutionary.

Gallup polls represent a methodology of scientific polling initiated by George S. Gallup in the 1930s, aimed at accurately assessing public sentiment. This was a significant departure from earlier, less systematic polling methods, as it emphasized the importance of selecting representative samples of the population. Gallup polls gained widespread recognition in 1936 for successfully predicting Franklin D. Roosevelt’s election victory but faced criticism in 1948 when they incorrectly forecasted Harry S. Truman’s defeat. These setbacks led to learnings, and Gallup refined his polling techniques, employing random sampling and continuous polling to enhance accuracy, particularly in presidential elections during the 1950s.

When Gallup moved to random sampling in the 1950s and began polling continuously until the eve of elections, he wasn’t chasing precision for its own sake. He recognised a deeper truth: societies shift quietly, between headlines. Polls must therefore be reliable mirrors, not hurried sketches.

Over the years, Gallup polls have become integral to political campaigns, influencing candidate nominations and public policy discussions. They have also mirrored societal changes, capturing evolving attitudes on issues such as gender equality and civil rights. Despite their utility, there is ongoing debate about the reliance on polling data by political leaders, with critics cautioning against using polls as the sole measure of success. Overall, Gallup polls continue to play a vital role in understanding public opinion and shaping political discourse.

But over the past twenty years, America has changed dramatically. People stopped answering landlines. Survey participation dropped. Voter behaviour became harder to predict. And suddenly, the organisation that once defined polling found itself struggling to keep pace with a shifting landscape.

There were headline moments—for example, missing the mark in the 2012 US presidential election—that forced painful introspection. To their credit, Gallup did omething rare: they hit pause. They stepped back from national election polling, admitted where methods were no longer working, and began a long process of rebuilding.

Today, Gallup occupies a different—but still significant—place in American public life.

They no longer dominate political horse-race coverage the way they once did. But they have pivoted towards areas where long-term, stable measurement matters more:

  • Public trust in institutions
  • Wellbeing and life evaluation
  • Workplace engagement
  • Social attitudes that evolve over years, not election cycles

Their “State of the American Workplace” and “Global Emotions Report” are now widely cited, not for predicting results, but for revealing how people feel about their lives and work. In a country where political noise can drown out quieter realities, Gallup’s longitudinal datasets offer something precious: continuity.

And that, perhaps, is Gallup’s place today. Not the sole voice of American opinion, but a steady, methodical listener in a crowded room.

And Then Comes the Indian Question…

All this inevitably leads to a Indian doubt: Do we do anything like this?

India is a nation where elections are larger than many countries, where tea stall debates spill into WhatsApp forwards, and where “sentiment” is often declared loudly—but loosely. So who is actually listening methodically?

The answer is both reassuring and sobering.

Yes, India does have organisations that follow rigorous polling practices—most famously CSDS-Lokniti, which uses sampling frames, stratified selection, field-tested questionnaires, and detailed post-poll analysis. Some private agencies also attempt scientific sampling, though with varying transparency. But polling in India faces unique challenges: population size, linguistic diversity, urban-rural divides, accessibility, and the sheer logistics of reaching voices beyond the easily reachable.

The result? While we do have pockets of high-quality research, we also have a landscape crowded with “quick polls,” “mood trackers,” and “snap surveys” whose methodology, if printed, might fit on the back of a bus ticket. Till today, election forecasts have minimum credibility.

Let’s see if all the bad press drives election forecasters to move towards more statistically sound and scientifically based approaches. Well, we can hope!

–Meena

Pic from: The India Forum

When Feet Take Flight: A Memory and the Magic of Sepak Takraw

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Some memories come back vividly when there is a trigger. Sadly, the trigger for this memory was a newspaper item reporting an accident involving a Sepak Takraw team.

But the memory itself is joyful. A trip to Burma, about fifteen years ago. It was a warm afternoon in Yangon. The tea stalls were buzzing, the pagodas gleamed in the sun, and somewhere between wandering and people-watching, I found myself drawn to a small patch of open ground near a quiet lane.

A group of young boys were playing a game I had never seen before. A boy leapt into the air, spun like a dancer mid-flight, and kicked a small rattan ball clean. I stood completely still, mesmerized. It was my first encounter with Sepak Takraw. We stood and watched for quite a while—the grace, the athleticism, the sheer joy of the players—was something amazing to watch. Fortunately on the way out, I found a Sepak Takraw at the airport and bought it.

All these years later, that moment still shines brightly in memory. Because Sepak Takraw is not a sport you easily forget.

For many of us in our generation, our playground sports were familiar—gully cricket, kho-kho, maybe a weekly volleyball session if your school had both a net and enough motivation to set it up. But Sepak Takraw feels like someone took volleyball, infused it with martial arts, added the grace of classical dance, and sprinkled it with sheer joy.

In the lanes of Myanmar, Malaysia, Thailand, and Indonesia, this sport has lived for centuries. Its early form, sepak raga, simply meant “kick the rattan ball.” Communities played in circles, keeping the woven ball aloft with feet, knees, heads—much like our own childhood attempts to keep a rubber ball bouncing on our legs, but infinitely more skillful.

Over time, the game evolved. Nets were added, rules refined, teams formed. What remained unchanged was the heart of the sport—rhythm, teamwork, and an almost balletic coordination.

What struck me in that first encounter in Burma was the joy. There was no crowd, no scoreboard, just a group of boys pushing the limits of their bodies, laughing, teasing, showing off impossible kicks.

Since then, as videos of Sepak Takraw swirl across the internet, the world has begun to share in that delight. Watching professionals play is like watching physics bend slightly. The killer kick—a full somersault that sends the ball crashing down at an angle—feels like something from a choreographed stage performance. The teamwork is intuitive, almost telepathic.

Interestingly, Sepak Takraw has been creeping into India’s sporting landscape too, especially in the Northeast. Manipur in particular has embraced it with enthusiasm, with players who train tirelessly and compete internationally. Perhaps some Indian traveller today will see a game in Imphal or Aizawl and feel the same quiet awe I felt in Yangon all those years ago.

Today the game is played at international level, and has entered the AsianGames. Efforts are on to get it into the Olympic list. 

But for me, it is the memory of that afternoon in Burma—the dusty field, the laughter of boys, the swift arc of a rattan ball against the sky. It is a reminder of how sport, in its purest form, connects us across borders and time.

–Meena

Our Dangerous Dunning-Kruger World: Why Ignorance Wins.

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Have you ever sat through a meeting where someone confidently proclaimed an idea that made you wonder if you were the only one who found it… well, questionable? Or listened to a neighbour explaining, with great authority, how to “fix the economy” or “end corruption,” in the time it takes for the traffic light to change?

Chances are, you’ve witnessed the Dunning–Kruger Effect in action — that quirk of human psychology where people with limited knowledge or skill in an area tend to overestimate their competence. Ironically, the more ignorant we are about something, the more certain we can feel about our opinions.

The term comes from two psychologists, David Dunning and Justin Kruger, who in 1999 published a study with the rather unexciting title “Unskilled and Unaware of It.” They were intrigued by a bizarre news story about a man who robbed banks after rubbing lemon juice on his face, believing it would make him invisible to security cameras. The man wasn’t joking — he genuinely thought he had found a clever loophole. Dunning and Kruger wondered how someone could be so wrong and yet so sure.

Their research showed that people who perform poorly on tests of logic, grammar, or humour not only make more mistakes — they also lack the skill to recognise those mistakes. In contrast, the truly competent often underestimate themselves, assuming that if something is easy for them, it must be easy for everyone.

So we end up with a world divided between the confidently incompetent and the competently cautious.

If this sounds like a comment on social media, well……. Platforms like X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram stories are veritable festivals of the Dunning–Kruger Effect — where the loudest voices are often the least informed. Whether it’s miracle diets, “instant wealth” advice, or armchair experts diagnosing global issues, confidence is never in short supply. Accuracy, on the other hand, might need a search party.

But before we roll our eyes at others, it’s worth pausing. The uncomfortable truth is that we’ve all been there. Remember that time you confidently assembled a piece of IKEA furniture without reading the instructions — and then found one mysterious screw left over? Or when you tried to give a five-minute explanation of blockchain to someone who actually works in finance? Yes, that too is Dunning–Kruger territory.

What makes this effect particularly sneaky is that it feeds on self-assurance. It feels good to be certain. Admitting “I don’t know” can feel like weakness. Yet, as Socrates famously said, “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” In other words, humility is intelligence in disguise.

The flip side of the effect is equally interesting. Those who genuinely know their stuff often hesitate to speak up. They second-guess themselves, feel like impostors, and worry that they might be wrong. This is where the Impostor Syndrome meets the Dunning–Kruger Effect — a perfect psychological storm that ensures the least qualified sometimes take charge, while the best-qualified stay silent.

So how do we guard against it? A few simple habits can help:

  • Ask questions. Even if you think you know. Especially if you think you know.
  • Seek feedback. It’s not always pleasant, but it’s the antidote to self-deception.
  • Stay curious. The more you learn, the more you realise how much there is to learn.
  • Listen before leaping. Sometimes the quietest voices in the room hold the deepest insight.

The Dunning–Kruger Effect may make for amusing anecdotes, but it also reminds us to pair confidence with curiosity. As we navigate workplaces, communities, and conversations — maybe even family and friends WhatsApp groups— it helps to remember that certainty is not the same as wisdom.

In the end, perhaps the best safeguard against foolish confidence is a dose of humble awareness — and a willingness to laugh at ourselves when we realise, as we often do, that we didn’t know as much as we thought.

–Meena

Graph: Wikimedia Commons

Around a Continent in 18 Months: The First Circumnavigation of Australia

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When we think of great explorers, we picture men in naval uniforms, compasses in hand, charting “new worlds.” But tucked away in the annals of Australia’s history is a story that breaks that mould. It’s the story of Bungaree—the first Aboriginal man, and indeed the first Australian, to sail right around a continent.

His name is little known today, but his contribution to one of history’s most extraordinary voyages, in an exploration led by Captain Matthew Flinders, an English navigator was extraordinary.

From Broken Bay to the World

Bungaree was a man of the sea. Born around 1775 among the Kuringgai people near Broken Bay, north of Sydney, he grew up at a time when everything around him was changing. European ships had begun to appear on the horizon; new settlements were springing up on ancient lands. While many Aboriginal communities resisted the newcomers, Bungaree was curious. Quick-witted and charismatic, he learned to move between two worlds—his own and that of the British colonists.

By the time Flinders was preparing to embark on his grand voyage of exploration, Bungaree had already earned a reputation as a skilled sailor and interpreter. Flinders, who understood the need for a knowledgeable local person on his mission, invited Bungaree to join the expedition aboard HMS Investigator in 1801.

The Journey Around a Continent

The Investigator’s mission was to chart the entire coastline of the vast southern landmass known then as New Holland. Flinders hoped to prove it was a single continent—what we now call Australia. For this, he needed not just navigational skill, but also understanding—someone who could help bridge worlds. Bungaree became that person.

Throughout the voyage –from December 1801 to June 1803–Bungaree played a vital role as peacemaker and emissary. When the Investigator anchored near Indigenous communities, it was often Bungaree who stepped ashore first—speaking to local groups in shared gestures, explaining the strangers’ peaceful intent, and easing tensions that could have turned deadly. His presence gave the expedition a human connection that maps and compasses could not.

Flinders, for his part, admired Bungaree’s warmth and humour. In his journals, he wrote that Bungaree “was always of service wherever we went,” and that his “good disposition and open, manly conduct” won respect from both shipmates and the people they met. It was a rare acknowledgment of partnership in an age otherwise defined by hierarchy and conquest.

The Man Beyond the Maps

The voyage was gruelling. The Investigator battled storms, leaks, and disease. Food was scarce; scurvy stalked the crew. Yet through months at sea and thousands of kilometres of unknown coast, Bungaree remained cheerful and steadfast—a figure of resilience and adaptability. When they finally completed the first circumnavigation of the continent in 1803, Bungaree had travelled more of Australia’s coastline than any person before him.

And yet, history gave him only a passing mention. While Flinders returned to England (and was later imprisoned by the French), Bungaree returned to Sydney. There he became something of a local character—always dignified, dressed in military uniforms, wearing his medals proudly. He was lovingly referred to as “King Bungaree,”.

An Amazing Feat

So this was the veryfirst successful circumnavigation of an entire continent in recorded history–the first time anyone had completely circumnavigated a single, continuous continental landmass on Earth.

Other earlier famous circumnavigations (like Magellan’s) went around the globe or around islands (for example, Tasmania, which Flinders himself had circumnavigated earlier with George Bass in 1798). But going around a continent — that is, a vast mainland connected by continuous coastline — was unique. (Incidentally, while one can circumnavigate Africa, the Americas through the Panama Canal, and Antarctica when the ice permits, it is not possible to circle Asia and Europe).

Remembering Bungaree

Bungaree died in 1830 and was buried at Rose Bay. His resting place, like so much of his story, is unmarked. But in recent years, there has been a growing recognition of his contribution—not just as a companion to Flinders, but as a symbol of the spirit of adventure, resilience, and bringing two worlds together.

–Meena

PIC from ABC News

The Tale of Two Gentlemen

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An uncommon name. But two people of this name, had a profound impact on India.

The first was Abel Joshua Higginbotham, who established the famous Higginbothams Bookshop in 1844–an institution which stands even today. The other was Samuel Evans Higginbottom who founded the Allahabad Agricultural Institute in 1904.

Abel Higginbotham was certainly an interesting character. He boarded a ship from England in the mid-1800s without a ticket or papers. The captain of the ship threw him out at Chennai when he was discovered. The stowaway was a trained librarian, and so could land a job at the city’s Wesleyan Book Shop run by Protestant missionaries. But the store suffered heavy losses and the missionaries who ran the business had to sell their shop at a low price. The enterprising Higginbotham bought the business, set up his own store in the year 1844 and called it “Higginbothams”—making it India’s first general bookstore. It gained a reputation for quality. The Guidebook to the Presidencies of Madras and Bombay by John Murray, which came out in 1859, describes Higginbothams as the “premier bookshop of Madras”. Higginbotham’s were appointed as the “official bookseller to His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales” during the royal visit to India in 1875. The shop started stocking stationery too, and subsequently started printing its own books.

The second Higginbothams store came up in Bangalore in 1905 on MG Road making it the oldest bookstore in the city. In the 19th century, this was the largest chain of bookstores in the county. Even today, there are over 40 stores across the country.

To add to his achievements, during 1888 and 1889, Higginbotham served as the Sheriff of Madras!

Our book-signing at Higginbothams, Bangalore

The other gentleman, Samuel Higginbottom was a missionary and agricultural reformer who arrived in India as part of the North India Mission of the Presbyterian Church, and landed up in Allahabad. He started as a teacher of economics but was deeply disturbed by the deep poverty of the farmers in the villages and districts around. The land here was not of the best, and agriculture was of very low productivity. He realized that modernization of agriculture was critical for the prosperity of the region, and returned to the United States and studied agriculture at Ohio State University for three years. He came back to Allahabad, to teach scientific methods of farming. But he was convinced that he had to take these efforts to the next level, and set about raising funds for an institution. His educational programs grew into the founding of Allahabad Agricultural Institute in 1919. Higginbotham developed close friendships with Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru during the course of his work.The institute has done pioneering work for the advancement of agriculture, including introducing pest-resistant high yielding-seeds, improved farm implements and extension programs for farmers. In 2009, this was rechristened as Sam Higginbottom University of Agriculture, Technology and Sciences (SHUATS) in honour of the founder. He left India in 1945.

Sam Higginbottom wrote two books: a book about his work published in 1921 and an autobiography published in 1949.

As the sharp reader would have noticed, the name is spelt differently in the two cases. The two gentlemen were not related. Abel Higginbotham was Irish-born British, while Sam Higginbottam was American.  The similarity in names is purely coincidental — different families, different geographies, different spellings, different national origins.

But we owe thanks in equal measure to both of them for their pioneering services!

–Meena

Food for Thought

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October 16 marks World Food Day—the day in 1945 that the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) was set up. FAO is a specialized agency of the United Nations that leads international efforts to defeat hunger. FAO’s goal is to achieve ‘food security for all and make sure that people have regular access to enough high-quality food to lead active, healthy lives.’ 194 countries and the European Union constitute its membership and FAO works in over 130 countries worldwide.

World Food Day aims to raise global awareness about food security and hunger, promoting actions to eradicate hunger and malnourishment. The day focuses on sustainable food systems, healthy diets, and equitable food distribution to ensure a better future for all.  The theme for World Food Day 2025 is “Hand in Hand for Better Foods and a Better Future”.

One would hope that with world attention on this critical issue, things would have gotten better in the decades since the establishment of FAO. Well, in fact measures of world hunger over time do show a general decline from that time. But the bad news is that progress has stagnated and reversed in recent years due to factors like conflict, climate change, and the pandemic.

Food Sufficiency

One area of concern in this turbulent world of conflicts and tariff wars is a country’s food self-sufficiency. The alarming fact is that as per a study reported in Science Alert, carried out by researchers from the University of Göttingen in Germany and the University of Edinburgh, only ONE country in the world can is self-sufficient in all seven key food groups (Fruits, Vegetables, Dairy, Fish, Meat, Plant-based protein, and Starchy staples).

And is Guyana! China and Vietnam were the runners-up, producing enough food to meet their populations’ needs in six out of the seven categories. Less than 15% of countries are self-sufficient in five or more food groups. Half a dozen countries– Afghanistan, the United Arab Emirates, Iraq, Macau, Qatar, and Yemen – are unable to meet self-sufficiency in any food group.

This is bad news in a world which cannot count on peace and fair trade across borders. Governments have to urgently re-think their agricultural policies.

India

India’s agriculture has come a long way from the days of ‘ship to spoon’ when we dependent on the largesse of developed countries. Today, we are net strong in staples (cereals including rice, wheat and coarse grains) and dairy.

But we have our vulnerabilities. The weakest points are pulses and oils.

We depend on pulse imports because production fluctuates.We produced around 24-25 million tonnes of pulses in 2024-25 and imported about 4.65 million tonnes. Domestic production fluctuates due to weather etc.

India meets only ~ 40-45% of its edible oil demand through domestic production. The rest is imported (for oils or oilseeds). In 2023-24, imports we imported approximately16 million tonnes of edible oils. Domestic production is increasing but yield gaps, land use, and competition with other crops are constraints.

The issue is not just the macro-numbers. The context of persistent malnutrition and food insecurity due to rising food prices, food wastage, farmer distress and the increasing impact of climate change on agricultural production must be kept in mind.

Respect Food and Farmers

While we hope our governments and institutions will sharply focus on this, as individuals, this World Food Day is an opportunity to think about where our food comes from; how we can eat healthy without imposing enormous costs on the earth; how we can bring food-waste down to zero. And renew our respect for the farmers who feed us, often without due return.

–Meena

Reflecting on the Five Laws of Stupidity and praying Ma Saraswaty sheds the light of wisdom!

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Have you ever shaken your head at someone’s actions and muttered, “How could they be so stupid?” Economist Carlo M. Cipolla, a professor at UC Berkeley, took that exasperation and turned it into a razor-sharp essay in 1976, later published as The Basic Laws of Human Stupidity. What began as tongue-in-cheek satire has, over the years, gained the weight of wisdom. His framework is quoted in boardrooms, military strategy papers, and even risk-management seminars. It is, at once, funny and sobering.

So, what are these Five Laws?

  1. Inevitability – Always and inevitably everyone underestimates the number of stupid individuals in circulation.
    No matter how cynical you think you are, Cipolla assures us the world contains more stupidity than you can fathom. It’s a reminder not to be caught off guard when irrationality rears its head.
  2. Ubiquity – The probability that a certain person is stupid is independent of any other characteristic of that person.
    Education, wealth, power or even high degree of capability in one dimension offer no immunity. History is replete with examples of brilliant scientists, decorated generals, and wealthy tycoons making catastrophic blunders. Stupidity is democratic—it spares no class or group.
  3. Damage Principle – A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of persons while himself deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses.
    This is Cipolla’s key insight: stupidity is not mere ignorance, it is destructive irrationality. Unlike the clever or the criminal, who may at least benefit themselves, the stupid spread harm without return.
  4. The Underestimation Trap – Non-stupid people always underestimate the damaging power of stupid individuals.
    We often brush off foolishness as harmless. But Cipolla insists it is a potent force that can derail institutions, movements, or nations. Underestimating stupidity is, itself, stupid.
  5. The Supreme Law – A stupid person is the most dangerous type of person.
    Why? Because unlike the bandit (who robs you but at least gains something), the stupid person leaves everyone worse off, including themselves. They are unpredictable, immune to logic, and capable of pulling entire systems into collapse.

From Satire to Serious Lens
Cipolla originally wrote the essay as a whimsical interlude in his career as an economic historian. Yet, his classification gained traction because it resonated with lived experience. Management theorists mapped his “laws” onto organizational behavior. Military strategists saw in it an explanation for the chaos of battle. Behavioral economists quietly nodded, recognizing parallels with cognitive biases and irrational decision-making.

Interestingly, Cipolla illustrated his framework with a simple 2×2 graph, plotting human behavior along axes of personal benefit and social impact. The quadrants neatly categorized people as helpless (hurt themselves but help others), bandits (help themselves, hurt others), intelligent (help both), and stupid (hurt both). That little diagram has since found its way into PowerPoint slides across the world.

Echoes Through History
History, as Cipolla loved to remind, is propelled not only by heroes and villains but also by the stubborn weight of stupidity. The fall of empires, disastrous wars, or economic collapses often show a pattern: decisions made against all logic, driven by pride, short-sightedness, or blind conviction. From letting in the Trojan Horse to the Maginot Line, human folly has had a starring role.

Practical Uses Today
At first glance, Cipolla’s laws feel like cocktail-party philosophy. But they’ve been pressed into real-world use:

  • Risk Management: Financial firms use “Cipolla’s Matrix” to flag policies or behaviors that could destroy value for no clear reason.
  • Leadership Training: By distinguishing between stupidity and malice, leaders are taught to manage teams with sharper judgment.
  • Public Policy: Some commentators even apply the laws when analyzing bureaucratic inertia, or social media misinformation.

A Mirror, Not a Weapon
It’s tempting to wield Cipolla’s laws as a judgmental hammer—branding others as “stupid.” But the real power of his essay lies in self-reflection. How often have we acted against our own interest, or underestimated the ripple effects of our actions? If stupidity is so pervasive, perhaps humility is the antidote.

Another thinker came out with the The Bonhoeffer Law of Stupidity describes stupidity not as a lack of intelligence but as a moral failing where individuals surrender their inner independence to power structures, groupthink, and simplistic slogans, becoming “mindless tools” incapable of critical thinking or moral judgment. It is a sociological problem, amplified by rising political power and fostering conditions where people become susceptible to propaganda and blind obedience. Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is more dangerous than malice because it is immune to reason and force, making it a more insidious threat, especially within groups. which describes stupidity not as lack of intelligences, but as a moral failing where individuals surrender their inner independence to power structures, groupthink and simplistic slogans, becoming incapable of critical thinking or moral judgement.  It is a sociological problem, amplified by rising political power and fostering conditions where people become susceptible to propaganda and blind obedience. Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is more dangerous than malice because it is immune to reason and force, making it a more insidious threat, especially within groups. 

On the occasion of Dusshera, let us pray to Goddess Saraswathi for to rid the world of stupidity!

–Meena

Happy Dusshera!

Image: artandhome.net/quotes-about-stupidity/