Category: personal

Move to Substack?

Ever since I acquired this domain name (back in 2008), this blog has been hosted on WordPress. However, now I’m starting to wonder if I should port it to Substack (the URL will remain the same). Let me explain why.

Recently, the admins at Substack wrote an article that “blogging boom is back“. Quoting,

What we’re seeing now feels a lot like that early blogging boom. There was an intimacy we felt reading our favorite blogs, a personal connection to the writers and the communities that grew around them. We stacked our Google Reader with their RSS feeds and turned to them for restaurant recommendations, recipes, home decor trends, crafting inspiration, gossip, political analysis, and life advice. Writers on Substack are providing that same intimacy and connection with the communities they create. No media conglomerates edit their words and ideas. We have access to our favorite writers, just as we did in those fast blogging days. We see ourselves in the personal stories they share; we trust them.

Having started (and not really continued) some five or six substacks in the last five years, I broadly agree to this sentiment. And the reason why I feel like Substack might be “the old blogging in a new form” is due to comments. People actually comment on Substack, unlike on WordPress.

I was reading a friend’s substack yesterday, and noticed a possibly Freudian slip. I quickly hit the comment button and shot off a comment. As of this morning, he has already seen it and replied. This was a regular feature on the blogosphere in the late 2000s. In the 2010s, this kind of behaviour simply died.

And coming to think of it, it possibly has to do with user experience. The user experience for commenting on WordPress absolutely sucks. There is no concept of login across sites (I don’t know when this “openID” was last maintained). So every time you need to write a comment, you need to enter your name, email, website, and maybe even fill a captcha before your comment gets accepted. And that is IF your comment gets accepted (the number of times I’ve written an elaborate comment and seen it NOT go through is insane).

Two decades ago, when blogging was big and growing rapidly, people used to leave comments on one another’s blogs. A LOT. In fact, I discovered a lot of blogs I followed back in the day by following comment trails from blogs that I already liked. It could occasionally be riotous, like on this legendary post by Ravikiran Rao.

And then sometime in 2010 or 11, it all stopped. Almost all of a sudden. I have statistics on number of comments per post on this blog over the years, but right now NED to pull it up (and also, the commenting was heavier when this site was on LJ). Suddenly people stopped commenting. And I think this had an impact on blogging as well. With little or no feedback, people didn’t feel like writing.

People started talking about the death of blogs. Sometimes, writing this would feel like shouting into an empty room. Then again, I’ve considered this as a documentation of my life and my thoughts (and your benefits, if any, being strictly collateral), and carried on.

What Substack seems to have shown is that the appetite for blogging didn’t go away. The appetite for commenting also didn’t go away. It’s only the user experience. Over the years, maybe coinciding with WordPress being the dominant blogging platform (and WordPress being more popular for making websites than for blogs), the user experience of commenting deteriorated. And as people commented less, they blogged less.

Now, looking at the comment density on Substack, I’m seriously considering if I should make a shift there. Still need to see how easily I can port all of this stuff without breaking. But if I can, I might just. What do you think? Do leave a comment (and if you think this blogpost is too hard to comment on, maybe comment on this “note” instead).

Mid Wife Crisis

A month or two ago, my wife wrote this studmax blogpost about “Mid Life Crises“. I read it when I was in draft. I read it again soon after it was published. And I read it again, and again, and again. And I’ve been showing it to a lot of people I meet.

Having seen this post, it has been impossible to unsee. I used to wonder why Hospi puts so many dance videos on Instagram, and then realised it must be mid-life crisis. I saw Josh go from being a VLSI Engineer to pushing limits, and have classified that as mid-life crisis as well. Recently, Ruddra posted topless gym photos. I actually commented that it “must be mid life crisis”.

A few days ago, my wife and I were talking about an acquaintance who is possibly having an affair, and that again we put down to “mid life crisis”. When asked why he had had a second child eight years after his first, a relative had said “early forties you hit mid life crisis. We had the option of a sports car or another kid. Decided to go for the latter”.

You see – once you’ve seen this concept, and if you belong to the broad 35-50 age group, it is absolutely impossible to un-see. You get excited about possibly meeting an old flame after ages, and mid-life crisis explains that. You want to get hammered when you meet your old friends, and mid-life crisis explains that as well.

Now, being 40 and having identified that I’m at “mid life”, the challenge is to deal with the crisis in the least destructive manner possible. That the crisis exists, and needs to be dealt with, is a fact. The choice is in terms of how to deal with it.

If you are married (or in a long term relationship), you don’t want to have an affair and put that in jeopardy (also the question needs to be asked if one’s demand for an affair can be met with supply). Alcohol and dope can be destructive to your physical and mental health. Social media gives you dopamine (and I think that was my main tool of dealing with mid-life crisis till recently), but can be both addictive and anxiety-causing. Gaming (I’ve considered buying a console for nearly 2 years now, but I’m yet to act on it) gives you the dopamine but again comes with addiction risk.

And that is where the “healthy obsessions come in”. You notice that many people around my age take to running, or cycling, or lifting, or a combination of these. All of these are physically strenuous activities, and thus can give you your endorphins. As an added bonus, they increase either your cardiovascular health or your muscle strength, thus preparing you better for old age.

So you find these to be fairly common midlife-dealing hobbies. If you can find one of these that you don’t get bored by, it’s a clear win-win (I lift weights). The “problem” is that because it is physically strenuous you can only do so much of it (I go to the gym for an hour each 2-3 times a week. If you do less strenuous stuff like running, you can perhaps do an hour 7 times a week). And so you need more. The question is what you can choose that is non-destructive (relatively speaking).

A month or two back, I got introduced to online quizzing. I’m currently playing three leagues (one of them will end soon, but I’ve signed up for yet another starting at the end of this month). I find that this is a fairly high-dopamine hobby (to the extent that now I’ve started doing this late in the night since it interferes with my sleep), and keeps me stimulated enough. The only issue is it can be potentially addictive (when I played my first “friendly” online quiz 2-3 weekends ago, I felt the same way as I did when I smoked my first cigarette – “this is addictive shit, I need to be careful”).

Interestingly, two friends I spoke to in the week of August 15th (and I’m pretty sure those two have never met or spoken to each other) told me “start working on another book to deal with your mid life crisis”. I admit they too have a point, but I don’t know what to write about.

But yes – midlife crisis is a real thing. It is only about how you choose to deal with it without causing self-harm.

Back to IIT

I hereby regret to inform you all that Sri Gurunath Patisserie, and everything around it including the Gurunath Stores and Moon Lab, is no more. There is no sign of its existence. Some new building, maybe an extension to the “giga mess” next door is coming up there.

Until this part of my walk early in the morning on the 15th of August, I had been thrilled to be back at IITM. Thanks to the kindness o the IITM Alumni Association, I had managed to get a room at the Taramani Guest House there for the morning, after my train had deposited me in Chennai at 4:15 am.

Of all the “institutes of national importance” I’ve visited in the recent past (last 1-2 years), IITM seemed the most friendly (and IIMB the least). This is ironic since as a student it was absolutely the other way round – the administration in IITM didn’t treat students well at all but in IIMB they were rather nice. However, now, post-pandemic IIMB has become a terror to get into, with some insane protocols and rituals.

At the IITM gate, though, all I had to do was to show a mail that I had a booking in Taramani House, and my auto was waved past. Delhi Avenue looks exactly the same as it did two decades ago, though maybe some new faculty blocks have been added to the sides. The stadium now has a sponsor (some Watsa – no Prem), and Gajendra Circle was all lit up for Independence Day. Else it was a very familiar ride in.

Taramani House has turned around, though, with its entrance now facing the road between CLT and OAT, and not towards Narmada (my old hostel). The auto dropped me there, and I duly handed over the ?160 change I’d got at the gas station.

A security guard welcomed me and asked me to sit down as he went to fetch the night manager. It was “old style check in” as I had to enter details into a fat log book. The room key was “electronic” (the one you swipe), though, and was handed to me along with a bottle of water and a small cardboard box. Later I found that the cardboard box had a Medimix soap, a satchet of shampoo (hadn’t seen one of those in decades now!) and a toothpaste and toothbrush.

I set an alarm for 7:30 and crashed off. IITMAA had asked me to attend the flag hoisting ceremony “around 8am”, but hadn’t given me more details. I decided to go “in search of it”, and take a walk around campus while I was at it.

After failing to find the flag hoisting ceremony, I expectantly walked towards Gurunath to find that it was no more. And having gone all the way, I went to my hostel.

Again the security guard was rather nice, and just said “oh, visitor?” and waved me past. It was 8:30 am, and I walked through the hostel for about 10 minutes “completely unmolested”. I didn’t cross paths with a single student, or even see one within 20m of where I was. The room I used to live in was bolted from inside (indicating my room-descendent was there). However, when I knocked, there was no response.

This is what my room looks like now:

Where I lived between 2002 and 2004. The graffiti, I think, is a recent addition

Most of the daytime in the hostel was spent at the end of my wing, sitting on the ledge (I’d not yet developed my fear of heights then) and reading newspapers. This is that ledge area.

Again some graffiti

I walked all round the hostel. The mess has been demolished and rooms built in its place. There is a third floor now. Large parts of the notice board in front are behind a locked glass. Even the unlocked part of the notice board has NO GRAFFITI – I guess that’s reserved for the walls now. And I was sad that I didn’t meet anyone – I would’ve loved to talk to the current inhabitants and find out what life is like there.

I had planned to meet Mohan, the legendary quizzer who was one year ahead of me at IITM CS, for breakfast that morning. Not wanting to put too much fight, I asked him to come to the guest house itself, and we ate there. The pongal and vada were good, although the “independence day special kesari bath” (a weird pink colour) was gross. We didn’t even go near the orange white and green idlis.

And then we went off on a rather long walk across campus, mainly covering the academic sections. We saw the new computer science building, and debated on what was in its place twenty years ago. We found this rather interesting nook in that building  – at the end of a corridor, a simple table and stools, and a blackboard.

The nook in the new Computer Science Block

We then went to the Building Sciences Block, which used to host the Computer Science department back in the day. And then kept walking, exploring campus and talking about lots of fun things.

It was interesting going around the place with Mohan, since we were a year apart in college and hence didn’t have any particular shared experiences, though we had SIMILAR experiences because we did the same program. This meant there was a connection but not too much nostalgia, meaning we could explore lots of different things as we walked. Oh, he recommended this book to me.

After that I headed back to my room for a quick shower, and checked out. Once again, it was time to deal with Uber / Ola. That I was deep inside IIT meant that any cab that had to pick me up had to make the trek all the way inside, and the place where I was meeting Kodhi and Aadisht for lunch was not far away at all – implying a huge transaction cost.

At least 5-6 cabs (from both platforms) cancelled on me. The ones who would call would talk about some “distance” (what I could make out given my broken Tamil) and cancel. Finally, I got an Uber that was 14 minutes away (when I booked), and which actually arrived. Turns out it came with a passenger headed TO taramani house, and I got in as he got off.

I might have written here before – I quite like going back to IIT, even though it is in Chennai! I sort of feel at home when I go back there (unlike in IIMB, where I feel like I’m invading someone else’s personal space, unless I’m there to teach or for a reunion), though I’m still very sad that Gurunath is no more.

That was the one place where I had my best memories on campus, and kept me going through my last three years there. Most of the “network” I have from IITM consists of people I hung out with there. And it pains me that it doesn’t exist any more. I really wonder what misfit students do there nowadays!

Read Part One of my trip here.

Strategic Wallis Simpsoning

While University Challenge lasted all of two seasons in India, it gave rise to some memorable memes. For example, our episode against Hindu College (2003-4) gave birth to the term “chimpanzee question”, which has since been shortened to “chimp”. Enjoy the etymology here:

Two rounds later, we got thulped by KREC (featuring Mukka, Ganja, Peeleraja and Rajat). I’m unable to find the video of that, but I clearly remember this question from later on in the quiz, at a time when we were well behind.

Shamanth (pictured above in the featured image of the YouTube video) buzzed and gave a long answer about the woman whom Edward VIII married. It didn’t matter – Quizmaster Basu wanted the name. The question passed to the opposition, and Mukka immediately buzzed and said “Wallis Simpson”.

Unlike Chimp, this didn’t catch on, but briefly at IIT, we used “wallis simpson” as a generic term in a quiz where you give most of the answer, but not the full answer, which means the team next in line can then “cash” on your descriptions and take the points.

I guess the term was too long (“chimp” became a thing because “chimpanzee question” got shortened to “chimp”). Also, unless you are interested in British monarchs, Wallis Simpson is “floyd” (a fairly vague funda). That said, it’s appeared enough times in quizzes to be called a “peter” (from “repeater”).

Anyway, here is a picture taken of the IIMB team after we had won Nihilanth in 2005. Shot by Pota, we later decided that in this photo we look like a band. And that the band would be called “Peter Floyd and the Chimpanzees”.

Bottom left in this picture is Mukka, who answered “Wallis Simpson” in UC in 2003.

Speaking of Wallis Simpson, the nomenclature just didn’t catch on, but the concept has always existed in quizzing. I got reminded of it last week, and thought it can be rather “strategic”.

Since the pandemic, the world has been flush with online quizzing league. I had steadfastly refused to take part in them, forever maintaining that for me “quizzing was a social activity”. Recently, though, I happened to go for a few quizzes with Kodhi (top right in this pic, with his fist to his chin), and he convinced me that I should give it a shot. FOMO having been lit, I signed up for a league called “B612” (that the league is seemingly named after my birthday further encouraged me to sign up).

The league is two weeks in. I won my first round fairly easily (and it left me so stimulated that I couldn’t sleep half that night), and then had a really bad day in the second round last week.

Maybe it was because the quiz happened at 6pm, just after I had returned from work. Maybe because the Swiss League pitted me against stronger opposition, given I had won the first one. Maybe I hadn’t relaxed enough before the quiz started. I was in really poor form, missing some absolute sitters.

Halfway through the quiz, it was clear I wouldn’t win. However, second place was still gettable (I was then third). That’s when I got a direct question where I “knew the funda but not the answer”. If I got it wrong, the question would pass to the person then in fourth place, and then to the person then in second (the quiz follows a format called “Mimir“, which is like the US sports draft system – people who’ve attempted less on the pass get precedence).

While I was in bad form, I realised that I could “strategically Wallis Simpson”. It was my turn to answer, so I could give out all I knew about the answer, even though I didn’t know the answer itself. That would maximise the chances of the person then in fourth place to answer, which would mean the question wouldn’t pass to the person then in second (thus denying him an opportunity to pull further ahead of me).

If the question were to, after me, pass to the person then in second place, I would have simply passed – there was no way I would have done him favours. However, in this particular question, the person in fourth stood a chance of preventing the person in second from answering – and so I had to give him (#4) all the help he needed.

And so I said something like “I know it’s the Toronto basketball team that won NBA recently but I’ve forgotten its name. So I’ll say Toronto Maple Leafs“. As it happened, neither the person in fourth nor the person in second could build upon my clue. The leader, who ultimately won the quiz easily, answered Raptors – though I don’t know if my clue helped him.

As it also happened, by the time the quiz ended, the person in second pulled away from me, and the person in fourth caught up with me – we ended up joint third. That wasn’t a possibility I had been playing for when I decided to “strategically Wallis Simpson” him! There is no reward without risk.

Tamil

I’m not great at languages. The two languages I can speak fluently in – Kannada and English – I learnt them both before I was four.

I learnt Hindi in school but speak a mix of highly sanskritised Hindi (textbook Hindi) and bombay Hindi (from movies) with a thick kannada accent. As for other languages, the less I say the better.

I spent four years studying in Tamil Nadu so sometimes people assume I know Tamil (it also has to do with my name and face, I guess!). The truth, however, is that by the time I graduated from IIT Madras, I had barely learnt to distinguish between Tamil and Telugu – the two “new” languages i had been massively exposed to during my time there.

Basically I didn’t bother learning Tamil when I lived in madras in 2000-4 because I didn’t really need to. Most people on campus spoke at least basic English. Most outsiders I interacted with were shopkeepers, restaurant waiters and auto drivers, all of whom could speak broken English at least. And since I’m inherently not good at picking up languages, I just didn’t bother.

Before we started out Tamil Nadu trip yesterday my wife (who happens to be good at languages) was wondering how I would fare on this front. “Let’s see how you can put your four years of living in TN to good use”, she said. I told her I hoped to mostly get by with English, and broken Tamil.

After yesterdays lunch she had been impressed. “Not bad. With just words for one and two you managed to manage the conversation”. “Yeah that’s how I managed in chennai”, I replied.

High expectations having thus been set, I’ve had to try and live up to them later on in the trip. My biggest issue is that I end up speaking “assembly language”. I know the words but not the word forms or grammar, and so what I speak can sound funny.

“Instead of asking the shopkeeper what that is, you ended up asking where that is”, my wife informed me yesterday. I had at least got the message across. This kind of faux pas, largely because I can’t speak prepositions and other word forms, continued.

This morning we were at an Adyar ananda Bhavan (a chennai based Tamil Nadu style food chain restaurant) for breakfast. I confidently decided the waiter there might know English and started speaking in English. To our horror, for the rest of the breakfast he spoke to us in Hindi! “If you don’t know Tamil but look Indian you must be Hindi types”, he must have decided.

We tried to talk to him henceforth in our broken Tamil, but he had made his decision. Hindi it was for us.

Then, in the afternoon, at lunch in a “mess” in karaikudi, I was again struggling to speak Tamil with the waitress (to link back to yesterdays post – she was a middle aged woman. Again a cohort I don’t normally see among bangalore waiters). Suddenly I ended up speaking a few Hindi words!

I quickly realised what had happened – Tamil and Hindi are both languages I can’t think in. For both, I “think in Kannada” and translate to the respective language before speaking. And somewhere my wiring had gone wrong today and instead of translating to Tamil I translated to Hindi.

Later on in the conversation she said something quickly. I caught a few words but couldn’t catch the prepositions and ended up entirely misunderstanding her. Apparently she said “the sambar is hot”. And I replied “no, I don’t need hot rice. Pour the sambar on this only”.

And so it’s been going.

Status and money

Over the last week or so, I’ve been discussing this post by Robin Hanson with just about anyone. The first paragraph is the one that caught my attention.

Having a romantic partner is useful in many ways. You won’t be as lonely, you can ask them for advice, you can do activities together, and you can share transport and even a household with them. But if you look carefully, you will notice that many people don’t choose such partners mainly for their promise in such roles. They instead seek high status partners, who make them look good by association. Partners who are hot, funny, rich, powerful, etc.

Nevertheless, I urge you to read the whole thing. Hanson goes on to talk about status in several other fields, such as politics or in organisations.

Broadly paraphrasing (you should still read the whole thing), he says that people want to be associated with people with high status, or people who add status to them. So politicians who can project higher status will get elected. Organisations will appoint people who can further increase the status of the organisation.

I was thinking about this today from the point of view of last night’s post, where I had compared my life in my (current) full time job to that of a consultant, which I had been for nine years prior.

Sometimes it is common for us to comment, or gossip, that someone  got hired purely on the strength of their reputation, and that their abilities are not extraordinary. Sometimes, reputations can be self-fulfilling – if you can somehow get the reputation of being good at something, more people will start with the Bayesian prior that you’re good at that, and as long as you don’t suck at that thing, the prior will continue to hold. And so more people will think you’re good at it, and so on.

So when I think of my own career, basically I realise the way to go is to get into a position that my sheer presence adds status to the organisation I’m associated with. That way, they will be more forgiving of the work that I do (or don’t do). At the same time, from my own perspective, the organisation also needs to (at least marginally) add to my status – at some level I may not want to join a club that wants me as a member.

I remember back in the day when I was consulting – one of my clients, during the negotiations prior to the engagement, had wanted me to put on LinkedIn that I was working for them. Now when I think of it from the point of view of Hanson’s post, this was the client leveraging my then reputation in data to further their own status.

This is what I need to bring to my employers as well (I have no clue if I do already with my current ones – though I’m not so popular within my (data science) domain in india). The target, if I were to think of it, is to get into that self-fulfilling space when it comes to status – that people want me just because I’m me and bring along a certain (positive) status.

Now that I’ve identified the target, I need to figure out how to get there. I know in his famous podcast, Naval said that we should optimise for wealth (a positive sum game) rather than for status (a zero sum game). But Hanson’s post, and my analysis of it, suggests that status can also lead to wealth. I need to figure out the tradeoff now!

IQ and mental health

It’s possible that I’ve written about this before, but I’m too lazy to check. I just saw this tweet by Baal about what he calls the “Aaron Swartz syndrome” (of brilliant people lost to mental illness because they put too much pressure on themselves).

(and yay, tweets are publicly visible again)

Baal’s tweet here is about a mutual classmate who we lost over a decade ago.  And this tweet triggered off a thought that I’ve had regarding pattern recognition, and which I might have written about earlier.

Fundamentally, what makes us intelligent is our ability to see patterns. Before the advent of modern “advanced linear algebra”, the difference between giving instructions to a human and to a computer was that the latter had to be incredibly specific. The human, on the other hand, could get approximate instructions, and then quickly see patterns in what they were observing, and get the job done.

Even a lot of “advanced linear algebra” works the same way. You give it a bunch of data, and it uses some mathematical transformations to “learn patterns” about the data, and then looks for these patterns in hitherto unseen data to make predictions. So what makes “artificial intelligence” intelligent is that it can use maths to divine patterns.

I remember taking this Mensa test when in college. It was all about pattern recognition. Four images given, and you need to figure the best fifth image to complete the sequence. That sorts. And Mensa claims to be a “club for the insanely intelligent”, and they use pattern recognition as a means to identify the more intelligent humans.

I can go on but I think I’ve provided sufficient evidence arguments on how intelligence is basically about pattern recognition. The more intelligent you are the better you are at identifying patterns.

Now what does it have to do with mental health?

The answer lies in false positives.

The problem with being good at pattern recognition is that sometimes you can tend to overdo it. You start seeing patterns that don’t really exist. I must mention here that I got over my extremely long-term and fairly deep depression back in 2012 when I was asked to deliver a few lectures on logical reasoning – explaining to my lecturees that correlation does not imply causation convinced me of the same, and I started feelingbetter.

So – because you are good at pattern recognition, you end up seeing too many patterns. I remember this from business school – I saw a bunch of people eating lunch together and thought I’ll go eat with them. And then I noticed a pattern among the set of people (something silly to the effect of “they are all from Section A, and taking this marketing elective”) that didn’t apply to me. And suddenly I decided I didn’t belong there and didn’t go to sit with them.

On that day I remember this happening multiple times, and I finally ate my lunch alone. Now thinking back, this was silly of me – and I had voluntarily brought upon myself unpleasant thoughts (“I don’t belong in this group”) and loneliness.

This is just one example – such things regularly happened through the decade of the 2000s. I would see demons (patterns, basically) where none existed. I would overthink decisions like crazy. I would bring loneliness upon myself. I would make random correlations, that would only serve to depress (“oh, my lucky shirt hasn’t dried, so I won’t be able to do well in today’s exam” types).

Generalising – what you see is that the better you are at seeing patterns, the more the spurious patterns you see (in advanced linear algebra, we call this “overfitting”). And these spurious patterns end up affecting you, and clouding your judgment. And making you less capable of leading life.

I keep thinking, and saying, that my engineering class has been especially badly affected by mental illness. In the class of 30 odd, we’ve lost two people to suicide already (including the person Baal mentioned in his tweet), and know of several others who had mental illness severe enough to either drop out, or take semesters off.

And given that the class was largely made up people from the extreme right tail of the distribution in a highly competitive entrance exam, I’m coming to believe that correlation exists – all of us being superior pattern recognisers, have been prone to recognising spurious patterns, and many have fallen prey to mental illness, to different extents.

PS: I found one blogpost I’ve written about this topic

 

JEE Math!!

Of late I’ve been feeling a little short in terms of intellectual stimulation. Maybe it was my decision at work to hunker down and focus on execution and tying up loose ends this quarter, rather than embarking on fresh exploratory work. Maybe it’s just that I’m not meeting too many people.

The last time I REMEMBER feeling this way was in May-June 2007. I clearly remember the drive (I was in my old Zen, driving past Urvashi Theatre on an insanely rainy Sunday afternoon, having met friends for lunch) where I felt this way. Back then, I had responded by massively upping my reading – that was the era of blogs and I had subscribed to hundreds on my bloglines (remember that?). I clearly remember feeling much better about myself by the end of that year.

Now, I continue to read, and read fairly insightful stuff. I’m glad that Substack has taken the place that blogs had in the noughties (after the extreme short-form-dominated 2010s), and have subscribed (for free) to a whole bunch of fairly interesting newsletters.

What I miss, though, is the stimulation in conversations. Maybe it’s just that I’m having way fewer of them, and not a reflection of the average quality of conversations I’ve been having. I’ve come to a stage where I don’t even know who I should meet or what I should talk about to stimulate me.

With that background, I was really happy to come across my (2000) JEE maths paper on Twitter. Baal sent it to me this afternoon when I was at work. Having got home, had dinner and dessert and sent off the daughter to bed, I got to it.

Thanks to @ravihanda on Twitter

Memories of that Sunday morning in Malleswaram came flooding back to me. Looking back, I’m impressed with my seventeen year old self in terms of the kind of prep I did for the exam. For the JEE screening that January, I had felt I had peaked a week too early, so I took an entire week off after my board exams so that I could peak at the right time.

For a few days before the exam, I practiced waking up really early, so that I could change my shit rhythm (the exam started at 8am in Malleswaram, meaning we would have to leave home by 7. Back then, you didn’t want to go to any toilets outside of home). The menu for the day had been carefully pre-planned (breakfast after the maths exam, lunch after physics).

The first fifteen minutes or so of this maths paper I had blanked out. And then slowly started working my way from the first question. I remember coming out of the exam feeling incredibly happy. “I’m surely getting in, if I don’t screw up the other papers”, I remember telling some friends.

Anyway, having seen this paper, I HAD to attempt it. I didn’t bother with any “exam conditions”. I put on a “heavy metal” playlist on spotify, took out my iPad and pencil, and started looking at the questions.

Again courtesy https://twitter.com/ravihanda

I took 15 minutes for the first part of the first question. While I was clearly rusty, this was a decent start. Then I started with the second part of the first question, got stuck and gave up.

I started browsing Twitter but decided the paper is more interesting. The second question was relatively easy. I left the third one (forgotten my trigonometry), but found the fourth one quite easy (and I remember from my JEE about encountering Manhattan Distance ). The second half I didn’t focus so much on today, but was surprised to see the eighth question – with full benefit of hindsight, it’s way too easy to make it to the JEE!

I didn’t bother attempting all the questions, of “completing the paper” in any way. I didn’t need that. I haven’t decayed THAT MUCH in 23 years. And this was some nice intellectual stimulation for a weekday evening!

PS: I don’t think I’ll feel remotely as kicked if I encounter my physics or chemistry IIT-JEE papers.

PS2: Now one of my school and IIT classmates is pinging me on WhatsApp discussing questions. And i’m finding bugs in my (today’s) answers

Pre-trained models

On Sunday evening, we were driving to a relative’s place in Mahalakshmi Layout when I almost missed a turn. And then I was about to miss another turn and my wife said “how bad are you with directions? You don’t even know where to turn!”.

“Well, this is your area”, I told her (she grew up in Rajajinagar). “I had very little clue of this part of town till I married you, so it’s no surprise I don’t know how to go to your cousin’s place”.

“But they moved into this house like six months ago, and every time we’ve gone there together. So if I know the route, why can’t you”, she retorted.

This gave me a trigger to go off on a rant on pre-trained models, and I’m going to inflict that on you now.

For a long time, I didn’t understand what the big deal was on pre-trained machine learning models. “If it’s trained on some other data, how will it even work with my data”, I wondered. And then recently I started using GPT4 and other similar large language models. And I started reading blogposts on how with very little finetuning these models can do “gymnastics”.

Having grown up in North Bangalore, my wife has a “pretrained model” of that part of town in her head. This means she has sufficient domain knowledge, even if she doesn’t have any specific knowledge. Now, with a small amount of new specific information (the way to her cousins’s new house, for example), it is easy for her to fit in the specific information to her generic knowledge and get a clear idea on how to get there.

(PS: I’m not at all suggesting that my wife’s intelligence is artificial here)

On the other hand, my domain knowledge of North Bangalore is rather weak, despite having lived there for two years. For the longest time, Mallewaram was a Chakravyuha – I would know how to go there, but not how to get back. Given this lack of domain knowledge, the little information on the way to my wife’s cousin’s new house is not sufficient for me to find my way there.

It is similar with machines. LLMs and other pre-trained models have sufficient “generic domain knowledge” in lots of things, thanks to the large amounts of data they’ve been trained on. As a consequence, if you can train them on fairly small samples of specific data, they are able to generalise around this specific data and learn around them.

More pertinently, in real life, depending upon our “generic domain knowledge” of different domains, the amount of information that you and I will need to learn a certain amount about a certain domain can be very very different.

Everything is context-sensitive!

Lifting and arithmetic

At a party we hosted recently, we ended up talking a lot about lifting heavy weights in the gym. In the middle of the conversation, my wife wondered loudly as to why “so many intelligent people are into weightlifting nowadays”. A few theories got postulated in the following few minutes but I’m not going to talk about that here.

Anecdotally, this is true. The two people I hold responsible for getting me lift heavy weights are both people I consider rather intelligent. I discuss weights and lifting with quite a few other friends as well. Nassim Taleb, for a long time, kept tweeting about deadlifts, though now he has dialled back on strength training.

In 2012 or 2013 I had written about how hard it was to maintain a good diet and exercise regime. While I had stopped being really fat in 2009, my weight had started creeping up again and my triglyceride numbers hadn’t been good. I had found it hard to stick to a diet, and found the gym rather boring.

In response, one old friend (one of the intelligent people I mentioned above) sent me Mark Rippetoe’s Starting Strength (and a few other articles on cutting carbs, and high-fat diets). Starting Strength, in a way, brought back geekery into the gym, which had until then been taken over by “gym bros” doing bicep curls and staring into mirrors.

It’s been a long time since I read it, but it’s fascinating – I remember reading it and thinking it reminded me of IIT-JEE physics. He draws free body diagrams to explain why you should maintain a straight bar path. He talks about “moment arms” to explain why the bar should be over your mid-foot while deadlifting (ok this book we did discuss at the party in response to my wife’s question).

However, two incidents that happened last week gave me an idea on why “intelligent people” are drawn to lifting heavy barbells. It’s about challenging yourself to the right extent.

The gym that I go to (a rather kickass gym) has regular classes that most members attend. These classes focus on functional fitness (among other things, everyone is made to squat and press and deadlift), but I’ve for long found that these classes bore me so I just do my own thing (squats, press / bench and deadlift, on most days). Occasionally, though, like last Friday, I decide to “do the class”. And on these occasions, I remember why I don’t like the class.

The problem with the gym class is that I get bored. Most of the time, the exercises you are doing are of the sort where you lift well below capacity on each lift, but you do a lot of lifts. They train you not just for strength but also for endurance and metabolic conditioning. The problem with that for me is that because every single repetition is not challenging, I get bored. “Why do i need to do so much”, I think. Last Friday I exited the class midway, bored.

My daughter is having school holidays, and one of the things we have figured is that while she has grasped all her maths concepts rather soundly (the montessori system does a good job of that), she has completely failed to mug her tables. If I ask her what is “7 times 4” (for example), she takes half a minute, adds  7 four times and tells me.

Last Monday, I printed out (using Excel) all combinations of single digit multiplications and told her she “better mug it by Friday”. She completely refused to do it. There was no headway in her “learning”. I resorted to occasionally asking her simple arithmetic questions and making her answer immediately. While waiting to cross the road while on a walk, “what is six times eight?”. While waiting for the baker to give us bread “you gave him ?100 and the bread costs ?40. How much change should he give you?”. And so on.

She would occasionally answer but again her boredom was inherent. The concept learning had been challenging for her and she had learnt it. But this “repetitive practice” was boring and she would refuse to do it.

Then, last Friday, I decided to take it up a notch. I suddenly asked “what is four and a half times eight?” (she’s done fractions in school). This was a gamechanger.

Suddenly, by dialling up the challenge, she got interested, and with some prodding gave me the correct answer. An hour earlier, she had struggled for a minute to tell me what 8 times 7 is. However, when I asked her “what is eight times seven and a half?” she responded in a few seconds, “eight times seven is fifty six..” (and then proceeded to complete the solution).

Having exited my gym class midway just that morning, I was now able to make sense of everything. Practicing simple arithmetic for her is like light weight lifting for me. “Each rep” is not challenging in either case, and so we get bored and don’t want to do it. Dial up the challenge a little bit, such as bringing in fractions or making the weights very heavy, and now every rep is a challenge. The whole thing becomes more fun.

And if you are of the type that easily gets bored and wants to do things where each unit is challenging, barbell training is an obvious way to exercise. and “intelligent” people are more likely to get bored of routine stuff. And so they are taking to lifting heavy weights.

I guess my wife has her answer now.