Friday, 29 December 2017

Mammatus clouds are pouch-like protrusions hanging from the undersides of clouds, usually thunderstorm anvil clouds but other types of clouds as well. Composed primarily of ice, these cloud pouches can extend hundreds of miles in any direction, remaining visible in your sky for perhaps 10 or 15 minutes at a time.
 People associate them with severe weather, and it’s true they can appear around, before or after a storm. Contrary to myth, they don’t continue extending downward to form tornados, but they are interesting in part because they’re formed by sinking air. 
Most clouds are formed by rising air. Mammatus clouds can appear ominous. But, in a way that’s so common in nature, their dangerous aspect goes hand in hand with a magnificent beauty.

Mammatus are pouch-like cloud structures and a rare example of clouds in sinking air. Sometimes very ominous in appearance, mammatus clouds are harmless and do not mean that a tornado is about to form; a commonly held misconception. In fact, mammatus are usually seen after the worst of a thunderstorm has passed.


Although mammatus most frequently form on the underside of a cumulonimbus, they can develop underneath cirrocumulus, altostratus, altocumulus and stratocumulus. For a mammatus to form, the sinking air must be cooler than the air around it and have high liquid water or ice content.







Thursday, 28 December 2017

Munjane manjinolu/ Pasuralli nadevaaga/ Anjisuva sanjeyolu/ Usirannu yelevaaga/ Yele poove aalisuve/ Naa ninna geeteyanu/ Yele poove solisuve/ Naa ninna preetiyanu!
(Amidst the early morning dew/ Walking across the greenery/ And in the evening that is scary/ While taking a breath, Oh flower, I listen to your song/ Oh flower, I defeat your love!)
Such are the verses of the poem titled Poovu (The Flower) by Kuvempu. The Kannada writer and poet (full name Kuppali Venkatappa Puttappa) is the subject of today's Google Doodle, which commemorates his 113th birthday.
Kuvempu is considered among the greatest writers in the Kannada language. As indicated in the poem above, Kuvempu's writings reflected the wonders of the natural world, which is why, when illustrator Upamanyu Bhattacharyya and letterer Swati Shelar were working on the doodle, they chose to portray him surrounded by nature
Kuvempu was born in 1904 in Kuppalli, Karnataka. In 1929, he graduated from the Maharaja College of Mysore, having majored in Kannada. He would begin his academic career there as a lecturer, and after a stint at a Bengaluru university, return to Maharaja College as a professor in 1946. He became principal of the college less than a decade later, and when he retired in 1960, it was as the vice-chancellor of Mysore University.
Throughout his time in academia, Kuvempu also wrote prolifically. He published 25 collections of poetry, two novels, in addition to biographies, literary criticism, story collections, essays and about 10 plays. His epics — Sri Ramayana Darshanam (in two volumes) and Chitrangada — and his autobiography (Nenapina Doniyali; published in 1980) remain among his noted works.
Kuvempu won the Jnanpith Award for Sri Ramayana Darshanam (in 1968, for the year 1967) — the first Kannada writer to receive the honor. He was also only the second Kannada poet to be named 'Rashtra Kavi' in 1958. Apart from these, he was conferred several other honors, including the Padma Vibhushan (1988), Padma Bhushan (1958) and Karnataka Ratna (1992). Kuvempu passed away in 1994, aged 89.
Kuvempu wrote his first-ever poetry collection in English; most of his other works that followed were written in Kannada. He remained a lifelong advocate for the language, especially as a medium of instruction in state educational institutions. He was also a staunch champion of gender equality, anti-casteism, and anti-superstition.
Incidentally, this week also marks the golden jubilee of Kuvempu's Jnanpith Award, and his birthplace is the site of a two-day symposium (over 29-30 December) where scholars will discuss the significance of Kuvempu's work. The Google Doodle honoring Kuvempu couldn't have come at a better time.

Wednesday, 27 December 2017


Long established as the premier portal for sound, your ears are facing increased competition from emerging techniques for transmission through your skeleton.
Bone conduction has rapidly become a critical asset for treatment of hearing loss. While a new generation of cochlear implants has had spectacular success in recent years, they rely on air conduction and the patient possessing a functional pathway from outer to inner ear. For patients with severely damaged pathways, such implants offer no solution.


Baha (bone anchored hearing aids) units work by passing sound from a microphone to a magnet or implant beneath a patient's skin, which is converted into vibrations in the skull and eventually arrives at the inner ear. This process extends the miracle of restored hearing to victims of such conditions as microtia or atresia, where the ear or canal is closed or deformed.


"It's the natural spectrum of sound compared with traditional hearing", says Brian Walshe, spokesperson of hearing treatment company Cochlear. "Even with amplification it's the same, there's no distortion."

The company recently launched a wireless Baha set, an indication of the technology's progress and growing popularity. Implants have become smaller and less invasive, while cosmetics have improved so that the system can be worn without advertising it.

Bone conduction is not a new discovery. Ludwig Van Beethoven overcame deafness by biting a metal rod attached to his piano to hear his work. Neither do they need to be compensation for disability - such systems have been used by the military in environments that require awareness as well as audio instructions. A member of the SEAL team which killed Osama Bin Laden wrote in his autobiography that bone conduction communication was critical to coordinating the raid.

The innovation is beginning to seep into consumer electronics. In the early 2000s, headphone sets appeared that played music via the user's bones, but the systems were hamstrung by high cost and low quality, with common complaints about muffled and distorted sound. The makers of Aftershokz believe they have solved those problems with a unit that retails for $79.

"The difficulty for bone conduction has been transmitting vibrations through bone with enough power for music, you need to be on the 20 - 20,000 Hz frequency range," says CEO Bruce Borenstein. "We have been able to power dual transducers with enough vibration to make the sound musical, which has been our big breakthrough."

The bone conduction system offers key safety advantages over traditional earphones, by leaving the user's ears free so that they are not distracted from their environment. It is even possible to drive wearing them, as they comply with the legal requirement to be able to hear on the road. The Audiology Foundation of America has also supported the concept, stating that it causes less damage to the ears than earbuds.

A flood of competitors are entering the market and innovation is not limited to headphones. Google Glass is




using bone conduction rather than earbuds for their speaker system, although there have been teething problems. Multiple patents are emerging for underwater and deep sea communication systems, and the technology has become cheap and accessible enough to be viable for novelty items such as talking pillows.

Fake wellness blogger Belle Gibson has been ordered to pay a fine of $410,000 after being found guilty of misleading and deceptive conduct earlier this year.
The Federal Court in Melbourne found she misled her readers when she claimed her brain cancer was cured through alternative therapies and nutrition.
It was later revealed she never had the disease
.
Ms. Gibson made $420,000 after building a social media empire and releasing The Whole Pantry cookbook and app, based on the claims.
Consumer Affairs Victoria (CAV) launched an investigation, and in June 2016 brought a civil case against Ms. Gibson and her company Inkerman Road Nominees, which has been shut down.
The court heard Ms. Gibson made false claims about donating a large portion of her profits to charities.
In March, Federal Court Judge Debbie Mortimer upheld "most but not all" of CAV's allegations against Ms. Gibson.
Ms. Gibson has been fined for five separate contraventions of the Australian Consumer Law Act.
The fine includes:
  • $90,000 for failing to donate proceeds from the sale of The Whole Pantry app, as publicly advertised
  • $50,000 for failing to donate proceeds from the launch of The Whole Pantry app
  • $30,000 for failing to donate proceeds from a 2014 Mothers Day event
  • $90,000 for failing to donate other company profits
  • $150,000 for failing to donate 100 percent of one week's app sales to the family of Joshua Schwarz, a boy who had an inoperable brain tumor
Justice Mortimer described the failure to donate to the Schwarz family as the "most serious" contravention of the law.
"Ms. Gibson expressly compared the terrible circumstances of young Joshua to her own, asserting she had the same kind of tumor as he did; a statement which was completely false, " Justice Mortimer said.

IT’S GETTING HOT IN HERE

Every atom in the universe likes heat. They like heat so much that atoms and subatomic particles vibrate and move around when they’re hot. The hotter they are, the faster they move. Along these same lines, the colder they are, the slower they move. In fact, at absolute zero (0 Kelvin, −273°C, or −460°F), all movements from atoms completely stop. You can’t get colder than that. It’s like trying to go south from the South Pole or north from the North Pole; not only won’t it happen, it can’t.
In fact, at absolute zero (0 Kelvin, −273°C, or −460°F), all movements from atoms completely stop. You can’t get colder than that. It’s like trying to go south from the South Pole or north from the North Pole; not only won’t it happen, it can’t.
The hottest thing that we know of (and have seen) is actually a lot closer than you might think. It’s right here on Earth at the Large Hadron Collider (LHC). When they smash gold particles together, for a split second, the temperature reaches 7.2 trillion degrees Fahrenheit. That’s hotter than a supernova explosion.

BUT CAN WE GO HOTTER?

Theoretically, yes. The first contender for the hottest temperature is the Planck Temperature, which equals 100 million million million million million degrees, or 1032 K. You just can’t put this kind of temperature into perspective. There’s simply no way to wrap your head around this number. Saying that 1032 K is hot is like saying that the universe takes up some space.
This is as hot as you can get in normal physics because, once it gets any hotter, conventional physics just doesn’t work. Weird things happen. Gravitational force becomes as strong as the three other natural forces (electromagnetism and the strong and weak nuclear forces), and they merge together into one unified force. Understanding how this happens is referred to as the “theory of everything”—the holy grail of modern theoretical physics…something that we currently don’t understand.
The Hagedorn temperature is the highest temperature that we think we could actually reach. This is the point at which hadronic matter (all the normal, ordinary matter in the universe) is no longer stable and utterly breaks down. We reach this point at about 2 x 1012 K. Notably, some theoretical physicists posit that, at this point, hadronic matter doesn’t “evaporate” but, instead, transitions into quark matter, which can then be further heated. However, quark matter is a theoretical phase, and we aren’t sure if it actually exists.
Another contestant for the hottest temperature in the universe comes courtesy of string theorists, who say that the hottest temperature is 1030 K, a little cooler than the contestant above. This is because string theorists believe that the most basic things in the universe aren’t the normal particles that we are all familiar with, but vibrating strings, which have a different Hagedorn temperature than hadrons.
Unfortunately, it is impossible to test the predictions made by string theorists (and a lot of other predictions that exist at such extremes). As a result, we don’t know exactly what the highest temperature really is. But those mentioned above are the best contenders, according to physicists.

James Symington is about to find out whether you can clone heroism.
The retired Canadian police officer – who took part in the rescue operation after the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks in New York City – is scheduled to take possession Wednesday of five puppies cloned using DNA from his beloved late German shepherd Trakr, the rescue dog credited with finding the last survivor in the smoking rubble of Ground Zero.
Symington, who won the opportunity to have Trakr cloned in an essay contest last year, first met his new pups in an emotional encounter on June 14.
“They’re identical – down to the smallest detail,” Symington said in a statement released by BioArts International, the California company that arranged the intricate cloning procedure. “Few dogs are born with exceptional abilities – Trakr was one of those dogs.” Symington said that if the puppies have the same abilities as Trakr, he intends to put them to work as search and rescue dogs.
Trakr died in April at the age of 16. The actual cloning using his DNA took place at the Sooam Biotech Research Foundation in South Korea and was led by Dr. Hwang Woo-Suk, who produced the world’s first canine clone in 2005. The goal was to create one clone, CBS News reported, but five genetically identical puppies resulted from surrogate pregnancies. The first of the pups was born on Dec. 8 of last year and the last arrived April 4.


The Common Swift Is the New Record Holder for Longest Uninterrupted Flight 

The bird world has its share of amazing migratory feats. Arctic Terns, for instance, are known for having the longest overall migration, with one bird racking up almost 60,000 miles on its round-trip journey between England and Antarctica. And as scientists recently discovered, Great Frigatebirds can sleep in 10-second bursts while remaining airborne for up to two months. But when it comes to uninterrupted flight, the Alpine Swift has held the record for the longest single flight of any avian species at 200 days.
No longer: Now there’s a new record holder, and this bird absolutely obliterated the Alpine's previous record. According to new research, Common Swifts can stay in the air for up to 10 months without stopping. Yes, 10 months. While scientists have long suspected that the bird might be capable of such a staggering achievement, they only recently had the tools to prove it.
Smaller than an Alpine Swift and slightly bigger than a Chimney Swift, Common Swifts are as well adapted for flying as their aerodynamic cousins. Mated pairs raise their chicks in Scandinavia for two months each year before taking off in August to feed on flying insects in the sub-Saharan jungles of Africa for the next 10 months. For decades, though, ornithologists couldn’t find any signs that the birds were roosting in their winter home. The species' flying efficiency combined with the mysterious absence of roosts led some scientists to theorize that the Common Swift remained in flight during most of its migration. However, the technology they needed to study the birds didn’t exist.
Then came the iPhone.
Interestingly enough, innovation in the race to build thinner, sleeker mobile phones has also been a boon for bird research, says biologist Anders Hedenström, who led the team of researchers from Lund Unversity in Switzerland. The tiny accelerometers that steer smartphone users around the streets of an unfamiliar city have also been put to work in the past decade tracking birds in motion. 
To find out what exactly the Commons Swifts got up to during those 10 months, Hedenström and his team paired an accelerometer and a light sensor in a bird “backpack” that weighed less than half an ounce. The team then attached the compact data trackers to the backs of 13 individual Common Swifts before the birds set off on their round-trip voyage to Africa. The backpacks allowed the team to record how much time the swifts spent in flight and where they traveled, without interfering with the birds’ natural behavior.
When Hedenström’s team recaptured returning birds over the course of two years, they were able to prove the hypothesis of their predecessors: Common Swifts rarely stopped to rest during their intercontinental trek, and three of the birds never landed at all during the entire 10-month journey.
“That’s quite amazing, I think, that the bird can remain airborne for such a long time,” says Hedenström, whose research was published last month in Current Biology. “It is very much an aerial life when they are away from the breeding area.”
That aerial life includes only a few interruptions. The birds that did land during their migratory trips still spent more than 99 percent of that time in flight. Their stops never amounted to more than one or two hours at a time, Hedenström says. He also points out that this is probably for the best.
“They are pathetic when they are grounded,” he says, noting that the swifts’ short legs make them appear awkward and almost wounded. “They look really clumsy and will easily become victims of predators on the ground.”
Common Swifts have evolved to essentially live in the air, where they can eat, drink, mate, and likely even sleep from the time they depart from Scandinavia in August until they return to breed in June. How and when they sleep is a question that Hedenström and his team are still trying to figure out. One idea is that the birds take brief naps during daily dawn and dusk ascents to altitudes of 10,000 or more feet, after which they gradually glide down.
“If I’m allowed to speculate, this is the time during this downward spiraling flight when they take brief sleep periods," Hedenström says.
In contrast, Great Frigatebirds take their brief naps while spiraling upwards on thermal drafts; both scenarios allow the birds to rest while doing the minimal amount of work needed to keep flying. But because the neurologger implant used to discover the frigatebirds’ sleep patterns is too heavy for the 1.5-ounce Common Swift to bear, Hedenström and his team will have to wait to verify this theory.
While sleep tracking might not be possible at this time, Hedenström hopes to find out next just how high the birds can fly. A new generation of birds with trackers is due to return next summer, equipped with a third sensor that measures the heights to which the birds climb. The record for highest flight is currently held by the Rüppell's Griffon Vulture, which collided with a plane at 37,000 feet—so it's not likely that the Common Swift will claim another title next year.  

Tuesday, 26 December 2017

The world is churning out so much data that hard drives may not be able to keep up, leading researchers to look at DNA as a possible storage medium. DNA is ultra compact and doesn’t degrade over time like cassettes and CDs. In a new study, Yaniv Erlich and Dina Zielinski demonstrate DNA’s full potential and reliability for storing data. The researchers wrote six files—a full computer operating system, an 1895 French film, an Amazon gift card, a computer virus, a Pioneer plaque, and a study by information theorist Claude Shannon—into 72,000 DNA strands, each 200 bases long. They then used sequencing technology to retrieve the data, and software to translate the genetic code back into binary. The files were recovered with no errors. We spoke with Erlich about the results, and what they mean for the future of data storage.
ResearchGate: What motivated this study?

Yaniv Erlich: As humanity produces data at faster rates each year, progress in traditional data storage technologies has dramatically slowed over the last five years. This means that we need to think about new approaches for data storage.

RG: How does your study fit into this effort?

Erlich: We showed that we can reliably store information on DNA
and that our organizing of information approaches “optimal packing,” meaning it is nearly impossible to fit more information on the same amount of DNA material. We stored a film, an operating system, and other types of data on DNA molecules.


RG: How did you achieve this?

Erlich: We mapped the bits of the files to DNA nucleotides. Then, we synthesized these nucleotides and stored the molecules in a test-tube. To retrieve the information, we sequenced the molecules. This is the basic process. To pack the information, we devised a strategy—called DNA Fountain—that uses mathematical concepts from coding theory. It was this strategy that allowed us to achieve optimal packing, which was the most challenging aspect of the study.

RG: Why did you choose to use DNA? 

Erlich: DNA has several big advantages. First, it is much smaller than traditional media. In fact, we showed that we can reach a density of 215 Petabytes per gram of DNA! Second, DNA lasts for an extended period of time, over 100 years, which is orders of magnitude more than traditional media. Try to listen to any disk from the 90s, and see if it’s still good. Finally, traditional media suffers from digital obsoleteness. My parents have 8 mm tapes that are basically useless now. DNA has been around for 3 billion years, and humanity is unlikely to lose its ability to read these molecules. If it does, we will have much bigger problems than data storage.

RG: How long do you think it will be until DNA storage is available to the general public?
Erlich: I would guess more than a decade. We are still in early days, but it also took magnetic media years of research and development before it became useful.

RG: What other applications do you foresee? 

Erlich: DNA is versatile, and molecular biology offers an extensive toolkit to manipulate it. This opens the possibility of using molecular biology tools to assist computing. Usually, it is the other way around!

MINUTE MINUTES?

I still have a few snatches of memory from childhood about learning to tell the time, and learning how it was divided up. In particular I remember when I first learnt how long a second actually was (considerably longer than I expected) and that there were sixty of them in a minute.
I also learnt that minute wasn’t spelt minnit or anything like that. And I already knew that minute meant “very small”, which seemed odd, since really it was the seconds that were small, not the minutes. And I half-remember thinking it was strange that minutes weren’t called firsts. Why not?
I didn’t know, but it was fun that the words were like that. Evidently I’ve been interested in language for a very long time.

A PRIME EXAMPLE

In my teens, I got interested in reading popular mathematics books, such as Martin Gardner’s collections from his “Mathematical Diversions” page in Scientific American. (That started quite early too: I remember being excited in my last year at junior school, which translates as age 10, when our class teacher got us to make flexagons. These are like a sort of hexagonal origami conjuring trick which make an appearance in one of his books. I think the one we made was the hexahexaflexagon. Sadly if I tell you about them now it’ll be too much of a digression from this post.)
Sometimes in maths you’ve been using a symbol—say the letter a—to represent something, then find yourself wanting to represent a similar-but-different thing. One traditional way is to simply add a little mark to the symbol: a becomes a′, then maybe a′′ and so on.
From the popular maths books I learnt, somewhat to my surprise, that whereas at school we very logically called these symbols a-dashed and a-double-dashed, having added little dashes to them, the American books called them by the rather strange names a-prime and a-double-prime. What a strange word. How had they been primed? They didn’t have anything to do with prime numbers. How odd.

A DEGREE OF CONFUSION

And there was another intriguing thing: when I learnt geometry—specifically, angles—it was apparent that it wasn’t just hours which were divided up into minutes and seconds: degrees were, too. Which was interesting, but the notation was puzzling: 33 degrees, 12 minutes and 3 seconds was written 33° 12′ 3′′ .
“How confusing!” I thought, “Surely 12′ 3′′ means 12 feet and 3 inches? It’s bad enough making them sound like times without also making them look like distances!
So what on earth is going on?
These questions niggled me for years, because although they were intriguing I never quite got round to looking them up.

THE REVELATION

The answer appeared out of the blue about a year ago, and everything fell into place. Very neatly and satisfyingly. (Except it would be more satisfying if a foot had sixty inches in, but never mind.)
Thirty years or so after first wondering about minutes and seconds, I was reading a fascinating book about early mathematics. [1] Among other things it talked about the Babylonians who, as you probably know, were the ones who divided a day into 24 hours, an hour into 60 minutes and a minute into 60 seconds. In fact, they did all their calculations in base 60. (By the way, they were able to solve quadratic equations in 1700 BC, knew Pythagoras’ Theorem many centuries before Pythagoras even lived, and were able to calculate square roots so as to use it).
The Babylonians were the only people who had a decent system for representing fractions. For us, 1:23:45 means an hour, 23 minutes and 45 seconds; for them, the equivalent in their writing meant the number 1, plus 23 sixtieths, plus 45 sixtieths of sixtieths, and they’d have happily gone on adding smaller and smaller divisions, like we do with our decimal places.
The astronomer Ptolemy also featured in the book. He used some ingenious geometry to work out a trigonometry table in half-degree steps. [2] In his introduction he commented that by far the best system for representing fractions was the Babylonian one and that he’d therefore adopted it.
And now comes the Great Revelation. Ptolemy himself wrote in Greek, but once maths like his started appearing in Latin, what did people call their fractions of a degree? The answer turns out to be:
  • “the first small part”: pars minuta prima
  • “the second small part”: pars minuta s

    ecunda
    !
Look at that for a moment. Isn’t it beautiful? All my questions answered in those two short phrases. It’s obvious, but let’s spell it out anyway, and enjoy it all making sense:
  • minute of time is the first small part, or  pars minuta prima, of an hour.
  • minute of arc  is the first small part, or  pars minuta prima, of a degree.
  • second of time is the second small part, or pars minuta secunda, of an hour.
  • second of arc  is the second small part, or pars minuta secunda, of a degree.
  • The little mark you use for marking a minute—a pars minuta prima—is called a prime.
  • To mark a second [small part] you use two of them: ′′.  Presumably if we used sixtieths of seconds, we’d call them thirds and mark them ′′′.
  • Feet and inches are also first and second small parts of something, so they too get labelled with ′ and ′′.
So all those years ago, I was right. Minutes are “minute”. Seconds do come second! Minutes were called “firsts”, but in Latin.
In a way it’s a shame about the feet and inches, because they don’t quite fit the scheme. An inch isn’t a sixtieth of a foot. On the other hand, isn’t a fathom five feet (sixty inches)? or is it six? I can’t remember.

Uruguayan Air Force flight 571, also called Miracle of the Andes or Spanish El Milagro de los Andes, the flight of an airplane charted by an Uruguayan amateur rugby team that crashed in the Andes Mountains in Argentina on October 13, 1972, the wreckage of which was not located for more than two months. Of the 45 people aboard the plane, only 16 survived the ordeal. The incident garnered international attention, especially after it was revealed that the survivors had resorted to cannibalism.

Departure and crash

In 1972 the Old Christians Club charted an Uruguayan Air Force plane to transport the team from Montevideo, Uruguay, to Santiago, Chile. On October 12 the twin-engined Fairchild turboprop left Carrasco International Airport, carrying 5 crew members and 40 passengers. In addition to club members, friends, family, and others were also on board, having been recruited to help pay the cost of the plane. Because of poor weather in the mountains, they were forced to stay overnight in Mendoza, Argentina, before departing at about 2:18 PM the following day. Although Santiago lay to the west of Mendoza, the Fairchild was not built to fly higher than approximately 22,500 feet (6,900 meters), so the pilots plotted a course south to the Pass of Planchón, where the aircraft could safely clear the Andes. Approximately an hour after takeoff, the pilot notified air controllers that he was flying over the pass, and shortly thereafter he radioed that he had reached Curicó, Chile, some 110 miles (178 km) south of Santiago, and had turned north. The pilot, however, had misjudged the location of the aircraft, which was still in the Andes. Unaware of the mistake, controllers cleared him to begin descending in preparation for landing. Shortly thereafter, the Chilean control tower was unable to contact the plane.
At approximately 3:30 PM on October 13 the aircraft struck a mountain, losing its right wing and then its left wing before crashing into a remote valley of Argentina near the Chilean border. A search for the missing plane was launched, but it soon became clear that the last reported location was incorrect. Rescue efforts shifted to the Andes, and the survivors later reported spotting several planes. However, the snow-covered mountains made detection of the white plane difficult. Furthermore, the harsh environment led many to believe that there were no survivors. After eight days, the search was called off, though later rescue efforts were undertaken by family members.

SURVIVAL

The crash initially killed 12 people, leaving 33 survivors, a number of whom were injured. At an altitude of approximately


11,500 feet (3,500 meters), the group faced snow and freezing temperatures. While the plane’s fuselage was largely intact, it provided limited protection from the harsh elements. In addition, the meager food supplies—mainly candy bars and wine—were gone in about a week. After a lengthy discussion, the starving survivors resorted to eating corpses. Over the next few weeks, six others died, and further hardship struck on October 29, when an avalanche buried the fuselage and filled part of it with snow, causing eight more deaths.
During this time, several survivors, the “expeditionary,” had been surveying the area for an escape route. On December 12, with just 16 people still alive, three expeditionaries set out for help, though one later returned to the wreckage. After a difficult trek, the other two men finally came across three herdsmen in the village of Los Maitenes, Chile, on December 20. However, the Chileans were on the opposite side of a river, the noise of which made it hard to hear. The herdsmen indicated that they would return the following day. Early the next morning, the Chileans reappeared, and the two groups communicated by writing notes on paper that they then wrapped around a rock and threw across the water. The survivors’ initial note began, “I come from a plane that fell in the mountains.” The authorities were notified, and on December 22 two helicopters were sent to the wreckage. Six survivors were flown to safety, but bad weather delayed the eight others from being rescued until the next day.

AFTERMATH

In the resulting media frenzy, the survivors revealed that they had been forced to commit cannibalism. The admission caused a backlash until one of the survivors claimed that they had been inspired by the Last Supper, in which Jesus gave his disciples bread and wine that he stated were his bodies and his blood. The explanation helped sway public opinion, and the church later absolved the men.
The ordeal was the basis for a number of books and films, including the bestseller Alive (1974) by Piers Paul Read, which was adapted for the big screen in 1993. In addition, several survivors wrote books about the ordeal.


Few foods can rival a sliver of raw fish, impeccably fresh and minimally adorned, whether it's perched atop a mound of sushi rice or swimming in a spicy citrus bath. And yet, despite the popularity of incredibly simple dishes like sushi, sashimi, crudo, poke, and tartares on restaurant menus, for many cooks, preparing raw fish at home remains a daunting task.
In part, this stems from uncertainty about the risks of eating raw fish. Many people will gladly place their faith in an anonymous sushi chef at a random restaurant but nevertheless shy away from the potential dangers of homemade ceviche. Cooks comfortable with chopping up raw beef for tartare may think twice about doing the same for striped bass.
And then there's the issue of availability. Many Americans struggle to find fresh seafood, and even those with access to good fish markets are rarely sure of their ability to gauge the freshness of fish, both whole and filleted. That can drastically reduce their confidence in eating fish at all, let alone raw.
Finally, additional confusion has been borne out of some widespread and misleading terminology. Some fish markets will have a section of their display cordoned off, containing a few pristine-looking pieces of tuna and salmon labeled "sushi-" or "sashimi-grade." A great fish market may advertise sushi- or sashimi-grade hamachi and fluke as well. But, as anyone who has eaten much sushi knows, there are plenty of other fish in the sea. In indicating that these fish are safe to eat raw, the labels also imply—erroneously—that others are not.
I spoke to several experts to help demystify what "sushi-" and "sashimi-grade" mean, and to outline best practices for preparing fish at home for raw consumption. For a more involved description of the risks inherent in eating raw fish, including the possibility of parasite infection and bacterial contamination, read on.




Google Doodle on Wednesday celebrated the birthday of Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib on his 220th birth anniversary.
Mirza Ghalib, whose contribution to Urdu literature was perhaps as significant as that of Shakespeare to English, was born in Agra on December 27. Honoured with titles likeDabir-ul-Mulk and Najm-ud-Daula, he is widely regarded as the last great poet of the Mughal era.
A post on Google’s blog describes his writing as one “ characterized by a lingering sadness borne of a tumultuous and often tragic life — from being orphaned at an early age, to losing all of his seven children in their infancy, to the political upheaval that surrounded the fall of the Mughal rule in India.”
Apart from his ghazals, Ghalib is also recognized as a gifted letter writer. In fact, it is in his letters that he portrays the spirit of his age, its political, social and cultural facets, particularly the events following the great mutiny of 1857.
Ghalib died in 1869 and the house where he lived in Delhi has been turned into a memorial known as “Ghalib ki Haveli”.

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