When my mother gave birth to me, it was a touch-and-go sitiuation. I was created with an abnormally huge head, which I would like to insist is filled with a brain the size of a small planet. Whether because of the head or some other medical reason, my mother had to undergo an emergency c-section. Remember, this was more than half a century ago in a remote hill station near Munnar in Kerala.
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When I was a child, I had a friend in the neighborhood. A smart (and slightly nerdy) kid, not unlike myself. We used to hang out, play badminton and do physics experiments. By the time we were teenagers, we kind of drifted apart, as our paths diverged. Plus tard, I went the IIT-USA, global-citizen-route and ended up in Singapore. He, of more modest ambitions, stayed back at home, and got a job roughly similar to what my father used to do. I kept hearing of him, although I never really ran into him. He got married, probably had a couple of kids, and everything must have been going smoothly, even a bit dully. But a couple of years ago he suddenly died of leukemia.
Another day, another American school shooting. The predictable aftermath will be “thoughts and prayers” (although people use different words now because of the current climate of skepticism), another pointless debate over gun laws, and a few “never agains” and “never forgets”. Instead of those exercises in futility, I thought I would write about some other curious aspects of America’s deadly romance with guns.
My mom used to say that when your child is as big as you, you have to treat them with respect. What she actually said was that you had to address them using a respectful form of “tu,” which doesn’t make any sense in English, but may work in Hindi or French. It worked poetically well in Malayalam. I was reminded of this maternal pearl of wisdom recently when I was watching a movie with my son.
Life is full of contradictions.
I am attending a research retreat on mindfulness and contemplative practices at the beautiful Garrison Institute. I am learning a lot of interesting things, and meeting a lot of like-minded and excellent people – the kind of people with whom I could have deep conversation about the unreal nature of reality, unlike most people from other walks of life would politely and tactfully excuse themselves when I get a bit unreal.
I just finished my first term as a professor at Singapore Management University. I taught an undergraduate course called Computer as an Analysis Tool, which is on business modelling and data-driven decision support. I had about 130 students, in three sections of three classroom hours each per week. Je dois dire que tout cela était une expérience très enrichissante,,en,les raisons de cette déclaration seront exposées sur,,en,théorisé et émis l'hypothèse,,en,c'est Blog Unreal,,en. Bien sûr, the reasons behind this statement will be expounded on, theorized and hypothesized – this is Unreal Blog, après tout.
At some point in our life, we come to accept the fact we are closer to death than life. What lies ahead is definitely less significant than what is left behind. These are the twilight years, and I have come to accept them. With darkness descending over the horizons, and the long shadows of misspent years and evaded human conditions slithering all around me, I peer into the void, into an eternity of silence and dreamlessness. Il est almost time.
L'enseignement est une vocation noble et enrichissante. As my sunset career, I have accepted a faculty position at Singapore Management University, l'enseignement de l'analyse des données et la modélisation d'entreprise à l'École des systèmes d'information. Ces sujets sont assis bien avec mon entrepreneurial ventures from earlier this year on data analytics and process automation, qui ont tous été une partie de ma sortie de la retraite.
Trump’s victory was many things. I think of it as a failure of big data analytics on many fronts. My personal theory is that there is more to it than meets the eye, but whatever does meet the eye seems to indicate a massive failure.
I am a conspiracy theory nut. Alors permettez-moi de proposer une théorie du complot pour expliquer la victoire Trump choquante. Il est truquage, mais pas la façon dont vous pensiez. Avant de procéder, permettez-moi de dire que ceci est simplement pour le plaisir. Don’t take it too seriously.
