Instinct to Survive: Lessons from a Trapped Tiger

Dear Friends,

Can you imagine a situation where you and your deadliest enemy both got placed in the same coupe in a first-class railway bogie? You both have to travel for 3 days. What would be your immediate reaction? Will you look at each other’s faces? Will you quarrel? Or will you go to the extent of fighting each other? Or do you both ignore each other until you reach your destination? Definitely, it is the most uncomfortable situation, right?

In such a situation, what if you are offered some good food by your neighbour? Will you eat happily, burying the rivalry or suspicion? Or eat with hesitation? Or reject it totally? Unless we experience such a situation, we may not be able to answer correctly.

However, animals behave differently. A few days back, a little bird got stuck on our balcony. It was barely able to fly. At a distance, the mother kept watching but couldn’t enter due to the parapet wall. It took a while. My son prepared a decent enclosure and started feeding it. Surprisingly, it did not eat, despite being given the right food. It was also unable to make any sound. After some time, he took the enclosure to the garden and dropped her near a plant, guarding her from predators. Suddenly, a few of her relatives came and pushed her forcefully. She gained confidence and flew away with them.

You might be wondering — what is so great about this story?

Recently, an incident took place in Kadukkkachiy in Idukki, Kerala. A tiger and a dog were stuck in a pit at a cardamom plantation (The Hindu). Everybody wondered why the tiger did not kill the dog — after all, they were barely a foot apart in a 10-ft-deep pit. It was an easy prey for the tiger. A DFO and a wildlife expert revealed something new. Normally, tigers do not attack or ambush inside traps. When dogs chase tigers, the tiger usually escapes. Generally, we think the other way around. However, experts say, “Instinct was to survive, not to kill.” This is animal dharma.

Many life lessons and management theories can be drawn from this. Today, the whole world is experiencing various phenomena — wars, famine, natural disasters, health outbreaks, human trafficking, slavery, and many more unwanted and undesired conditions. A few are man-made, while a few are natural. We can avoid man-made disasters and collaboratively and collectively handle natural ones.

What is one lesson we can learn from these tigers? The instinct is to survive, not to kill. We are all people trapped on this big planet. Maybe we need the same instinct — to survive. I’m sure everyone will have their own reason. At least, we can reduce the friction. Human life is so short. We send best wishes to family members, greet each other — and within hours, we’re not sure whether we’ll return safely or not. In the process, we build great dreams, make big claims, and create all kinds of noise. But where is the guarantee that our claim will be fulfilled in our own eyes?

Nature’s lessons are always great. They teach us philosophy, science, engineering, architecture, and much more. I think some universities should start a bachelor’s program exclusively on “Bachelor's in Nature Understanding.” It should be a transdisciplinary subject covering all philosophies.

What does your instinct say?

Ravi Saripalle

From Memes to Meaning: A Reflection on Change, Grief, and Generational Shifts

Dear Friends,

A couple of days ago, I came across a meme: A grandfather is on life support, with the oxygen cylinder plugged into an electrical socket. Next to him, his grandson is playing a video game. The grandfather says, “I know how this will end — one of my grandkids will unplug my life support to charge their phone.”

It made me smile — it’s humorous on the surface, but also carries a profound message. It's not just about choosing a phone over a grandparent's life. It reflects how deeply our world and behaviours have shifted — subtly, yet significantly.

Last night, my two-wheeler broke down about 25 KM from home, around 9:30 PM. With limited options, I had to leave the vehicle by the roadside. By the time it was past 10 PM, transportation was scarce. Eventually, I caught a city bus. In front of me sat two boys (they seemed like brothers), engrossed in a video game. Their parents were seated farther away. I vaguely heard the elder boy say, “Bro, keep 40 rupees and kill that character.” I couldn’t tell if it was part of the game or something else, but their instincts were not sounding right. Persistent exposure to such narratives may lead to different behaviour.

That moment reminded me of another experience from a couple of months ago. I was at a hospital, helping a well-wisher with a non-emergency matter. While near the emergency ward, I witnessed something that deeply moved me.

A young painter, perhaps 25–30 years old, had fallen while working and was rushed in. Tragically, he was declared dead on arrival. He was the sole breadwinner for his family — a mother, a wife, and two young children.

Soon, relatives, neighbors, and friends began arriving. It was heartbreaking. The family, with very limited resources, struggled even to cover basic hospital expenses. I watched as people emptied their pockets — pulling out coins and small bills. Even with all that, it wasn’t enough. Some went out in search of additional help, while others sat silently through the night outside the hospital.

What stayed with me, however, was this small yet powerful detail: While the adults mourned — the mother, in particular, was inconsolable — the young children were given mobile phones to keep them occupied. They quietly played games. I’m not here to say whether that was right or wrong. But I did notice the contrast.

A few decades ago, in such a moment, children might have been taken aside, told to sit quietly, or even asked to pray. Today, the instinct is to distract, not reflect.

It brought back a memory from my own childhood. In October 1984, my maternal grandfather passed away in our village, 30–40 KM from Vizianagaram, Andhra Pradesh. He had a cow he loved dearly. That day, the cow cried — all day. Tears were visible in her eyes. Perhaps it was her way of mourning — an expression of love in a language we often fail to understand.

Even today, I rarely get tears in my eyes, even during intense moments. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel, or that my heart is hard. I'm not trying to draw exact parallels between these stories, but there’s a certain disconnect we can sense between generations.

Honestly, I don't know why I chose to share this story today. It wasn’t planned. But two pairs of children, a single meme, and a string of memories prompted me to write.

I’m not here to judge what’s right or wrong. Times are changing. So are our tools, habits, and ways of expressing emotion. We’ll likely see many more such memes in the future.

Let’s just hope they remain memes — not reality.

Ravi Saripalle

From Shelter to Showcase: The Evolution of Construction Costs

 Dear Friends,

A couple of days back, I was reading a post on “Thumb Rule for Construction Cost Wise %.” It said: Cement – 16.4%, Sand – 12.3%, Aggregates – 7.4%, Steel – 24.6%, Painting – 4.1%, Tiles – 8%, Bricks – 4.4%, Windows – 3%, Doors – 3.4%, Plumbing – 5.5%, Electrical – 6.8%, Sanitary – 4.1%.

Let’s assume we aspire to live in a 1200 sq. ft flat at ₹5,000 per sq. ft. That’s ₹60 lakhs. Cement itself would cost around ₹10 lakhs, sand around ₹8 lakhs, steel ₹15 lakhs, and sanitary fittings about ₹2.5 lakhs!

Thirty years ago, we lived in a 200–300 sq. ft house with two rooms. One of the rooms served as a kitchen in the morning and became a guest room at night! Families back then weren’t nuclear—grandparents were part of the household. On average, we hosted 2–3 guests every month, staying for a week. When we said “door,” it meant just the main door facing the road! The rest were partitions. “Sanitary” meant only an Indian-style toilet. There was no concept of a washbasin.

As for furniture, we had one Godrej almirah and 3–4 chairs. No dining table! Privacy was a luxury. The background music while preparing for life-changing competitive exams was the inevitable household cacophony of an elderly grandmother, her standard rumblings, occasional scoldings, and emotional outbursts. But the number of life lessons we learned was immense.

Fast forward to my early career phase—living in a 64 sq. ft room in Bangalore as a bachelor. We could afford a better space, but all of us in that phase shared the same aspirations. We were still growing, still dreaming of a better life for our future families. Back then, we were called misers. But who could understand our hearts? That compromise may not be appreciated now, but I feel deeply content about the responsibility I showed back then.

Looking back today, I can say we are living in luxury compared to those days. Aspirations have changed. Lifestyles have transformed. Given a choice, I don’t think I could return to those old living conditions—unless God’s will demands it.

Recently, while visiting Mumbai, I passed through a slum. Watching the lives there was heart-wrenching. It made me realize: we may not feel we are living in luxury, but in comparison, we are. And maybe—just maybe—we’re occupying a space that could have been someone else’s comfort.

Somewhere I read that in 1959, the LIC Building in Mumbai was constructed at ₹70 per sq. ft. In 2002, an independent house in Chennai could be built at ₹300–₹500 per sq. ft. Today, in most metros, a premium tier-1 apartment costs around ₹5,000–₹6,000 per sq. ft.

Construction today is no longer just about shelter—it’s a statement. But with every additional tile and steel rod, we’re also shaping future costs: both personal and planetary.

This is the challenge for designers—in an age of climate crisis and housing shortages, minimalist, modular, and eco-conscious designs may well be the true architectural innovation we need.

Finally, are we building dreams—or just buying into trends? I must admit, I too fell into this trap.

Ravi Saripalle

Is the “Anting” Philosophy Gaining Ground in Education?

Dear Friends,

A few days ago, we were invited by one of the country’s established and well-regarded deemed universities to conduct an orientation session for a newly designed academic program. Parents from various states attended and actively raised their questions and concerns. The university’s management responded to every query with patience and without prejudice.

While a strong institutional brand carries weight, today, no progressive educational institution can afford to leave any stone unturned. The landscape of education is shifting dramatically across institutions, whether it’s Harvard, IITs, or other reputed centres of learning.

For instance, when IIT Madras launched its BSc in Data Science program, it held multiple orientation sessions before admissions. A decade ago, such efforts were rare. Back then, the brand alone was enough to attract students. Today, things have changed. Students and parents are increasingly concerned not only about academic prospects but also about quality of life—campus experience, living conditions, and co-living environments.

In the past, it wasn’t unusual for four or five students to share a bathroom. That was never questioned. Today, the preference for fewer roommates and private or semi-private amenities has become a deciding factor in course selection. Institutions are tuning into these voices and are transforming—be it infrastructure, faculty mindset, course design, or evaluation methodologies.

This ongoing transformation can be likened to a process known in nature as "Anting."

When a crow feels unwell, it seeks out an anthill. It spreads its wings and remains still, allowing ants to crawl through its feathers. The ants release formic acid, a natural antiseptic that eliminates bacteria, fungi, and parasites. This self-healing behavior is not unique to crows—it’s observed in many bird species. No vet, no synthetic medicine—just instinct and nature’s pharmacy at work.
In many ways, educational institutions are undergoing their own anting process—a phase of introspection, healing, and transformation. If they don’t, they risk being consumed by internal “parasites.”

So, what are these parasites?

• A faculty member who resists adapting to new methods, cultures, or tools becomes a drag on institutional progress.

• An institution that clings to outdated philosophies from the 1990s or 2000s without evolving risks irrelevance.

• Neglecting infrastructure or failing to adopt modern platforms and systems is not just stagnation—it’s regression.

The anting process may be temporarily uncomfortable, just as it might be for the crow, but its benefits are long-lasting. Constructive criticism within institutions is often mistaken as a personal attack. In reality, it is a call to awaken, to become more aware, and to evolve.

And let’s not limit this philosophy to institutions alone. Anting applies to our homes, our lives, and even our personal growth.

Are you experiencing your Anting process?

Ravi Saripalle

The Right Shift of Merit: The Lost Bell Curve

Dear Friends,

This is the season of results. From as early as 5th standard, both students and parents are preoccupied—not about passing or failing, nor about third, second, or even first class—but about the race for 90%+ and 9.0+ CGPAs.

I still remember my own 10th-grade results. In those days, the results came in a special newspaper edition. Pages filled with roll numbers, neatly categorized: third class, second class, and first class. I’m not sure if it was a confidence issue or a competence issue, but we would start by nervously checking the third-class list, then second, and finally, with bated breath, the first-class section. But the most suspenseful category of all was the "WITHHELD" section—a kind of academic Trishanku Swarga. Neither passed nor failed. Caught between suspicion of malpractice or a technical error. Pure suspense!

But oh, the joy of simply passing back then! After my intermediate (Plus 2), my father sent a telegram with just two words: First Class. I was on vacation in Chhattisgarh with no phone, no easy communication, and no reserved travel. My cousin helped me catch a ride on a steam engine (literally sitting next to the driver) to Raipur, then I took a passenger train to reach Vizianagaram. For that entire journey, I was basking in those two words: First Class. I also owe a small thanks to my classmate, Dr. Ravi Sankar (now Professor at IIT Madras), whose roll number was next to mine. Both names are alike. His math help made a real difference.
Where is that kind of joy now?

A few days ago, I came across a post by Dr. Madhuri Parti. She writes:

“Students scoring 95%, even 96%, are anxious, dissatisfied, and in some cases — battling depression. What changed? In 2024 alone, over 2.4 lakh Class 10 students scored above 90%. Over 2.2 lakh Class 12 students crossed that same mark. On paper, it looks like a nation of academic brilliance. But the reality is far more complex — and troubling. When 90% becomes average, we erode the value of genuine understanding. The dignity of skilled work. The joy of learning for life, not just exams.”

How true.

As teachers, we’re encouraged to follow the bell curve model while grading. It’s designed to standardize results across large classes, and to prevent grade inflation or deflation. It assumes that a normal distribution exists—and tries to fit everyone into it.
But reality rarely conforms to theory. When most of the class scores above 90%, trying to fit grades into a bell curve can feel unfair. High-performing students may still get pushed down the grade ladder—not because of their competence, but because of the statistical mold we’re forced to apply. No one feels good in the end.

Initially, I believed this was an India-specific problem. But it’s not. China, the U.S., and even European systems face the same challenge. In machine learning terms, it’s like an overfitted model—excellent results on the training data, but poor generalization to real-world scenarios.

We’re creating excellent academic pathways for higher education, but failing to build flexible, skill-based routes that cater to the socio-physical-psychological uniqueness of individuals.
And then there's the meme making rounds:

“This generation’s marks are like: 99.4, 99.5, 99.8, 99.9.
In our times, we only used to get fever like this.”

Maybe it's time we asked ourselves: Are we chasing the right kind of merit?

Ravi Saripalle

The Numbers Didn’t Reveal the Truth—Empathetic Observation Did

Dear Friends,

Over the past two weeks, I had the opportunity to speak about Design Thinking with diverse groups—from enthusiastic school kids in Hyderabad to a dedicated faculty team at Gayatri Vidya Parishad. Today, I had the pleasure of addressing members of the CMA Association (The Institute of Cost Accountants of India, Visakhapatnam Chapter) on the topic “Design Thinking for CMAs.”

In fields like medicine or consumer products, explaining Design Thinking is relatively straightforward. It’s a human-centered approach to experiential innovation—where human centeredness means empathy, and experiential innovation is the confluence of desirability, affordability, and technical feasibility.

But how do we explain Design Thinking in the context of Cost & Management Accountancy? I shared two stories to illustrate. Here’s the first:

Story 1:
A leading pharmaceutical distributor in Andhra Pradesh experienced a steady decline in net margins—despite increasing sales volumes. The finance team dove deep into the P&L, comparing year-over-year costs, vendor discounts, and pricing models. They adjusted overhead allocations, renegotiated logistics contracts, and even restructured sales incentives. But the problem persisted.

Enter Sudha (a fictional character), the company’s CMA—and more importantly, a Design Thinker at heart. She knew the numbers only told part of the story.

Sudha decided to look beyond the reports. She visited major pharmacies the company supplied to. She spoke to doctors—both those prescribing the products and those who weren’t. She interviewed patients about their experiences. She listened to store managers about ordering delays and invoicing issues. She even shadowed the warehouse dispatch team for a day.
What she uncovered surprised everyone.

Sales reps were being incentivized to push slow-moving, high-margin drugs to meet monthly targets. This resulted in high return volumes from pharmacies, which drove up reverse logistics costs. The manual reconciliation process for returned stock led to delays, missed credits, and write-offs. Pharmacies began favoring rival distributors who offered more flexible, responsive systems.

None of this had shown up in the reports.

The real issue wasn’t pricing—it was a broken user experience across the supply chain.

While AI could detect anomalies in the P&L, it was Sudha’s empathetic observations, interviews, and field visits that revealed the underlying problems. That’s the beginning of the Design Thinking approach.

I’ll share the second story in another letter—but it focuses on the idea of upholding trust.

Today, fraud control isn’t just about detection—it’s about designing trust.

When you’re a design thinker or designing a banking product, you face four possible outcomes:

1. You correctly flag a fraudulent transaction (your duty as a banker).
2. You wrongly flag a legitimate transaction as fraud (a failure of empathy—imagine a customer in a hospital being denied a transaction for surgery, or a traveler stranded because they couldn’t book a ticket).
3. You correctly allow a legitimate transaction (also your duty).
4. You wrongly allow a fraudulent transaction (potentially enabling illegal activities).

In short, while AI automates detection, design thinkers elevate prevention—by designing systems grounded in empathy, trust, and user understanding.

Let’s design that trust.

Ravi Saripalle

Why Bad News Hits Harder: The Science of Negativity Bias

Dear Friends,

Once, while walking through a narrow street lined with closely packed houses, I came across a typical scene: a heated argument between a husband and wife. Their voices echoed across the neighborhood. At least fifteen people had gathered to mediate. Almost every neighbor within earshot had stepped out of their homes to watch.

This isn't an isolated incident. You’ll find similar commotion near community water taps, in middle-class apartment car parks, at garbage collection points of independent houses, or even in affluent neighborhoods, where disputes over a few feet of land can turn ugly. The common thread? Negative talk draws attention.

Now pause and reflect—how often do neighbors genuinely celebrate your achievements? Perhaps occasionally, out of social courtesy. But more often than not, subtle envy overshadows genuine joy. It’s not just them. No one is immune to this bias. As uncomfortable as it sounds, people are instinctively more drawn to bad news.           

The Data Doesn’t Lie

A 2022 study analyzing 23 million headlines from 2000 to 2019 found a staggering 314% increase in negative sentiment. Headlines containing anger increased by 104%, fear by 150%, and sadness by 54%.

Even more striking, each additional negative word in a headline was found to increase its click-through rate by approximately 2.3%.

In one experiment, a Russian news outlet published only positive stories for a day. The result? A 66% drop in readership—a clear indicator of public preference for negativity (BBC.com, Dec 4, 2014).

The Psychology Behind It

Why do negative statements capture our attention more powerfully than positive ones?

The answer lies in a well-established psychological concept called negativity bias. Evolution hardwired our brains to prioritize threats—essential for survival. Negative events trigger faster and stronger responses in the amygdala, the brain’s emotional alarm system. As a result, negative information stands out more and spreads faster than its positive counterpart.

When we began the Inspire to Innovate Storytelling Movement (http://i2iTM.blogspot.com) in 2011, we were committed to sharing only positive stories. But we struggled—first to find such stories, and then to sustain them. Why? Because staying in a consistently positive vibration is difficult. We’re all human, and we’re all wired the same way.

Only a few spiritually elevated individuals seem to transcend this bias. I’ve seen people who diligently follow the Bhagavad Gita or their respective spiritual paths—living with purpose, contentment, and inner peace. These are exceptions, but they offer us hope.

On a lighter note, did you come to this point of reading because of today’s story title which has a negative word:)-

Ravi Saripalle

Already Scary—Did They Have to Call It an "Agent"?

Dear Friends,

Recently, I was talking to a well-educated professional. We were discussing how AI is going to impact jobs. I told him that AI agents will soon start doing many simple, everyday tasks that humans do today. Immediately, he asked me, “What qualification is needed to become an AI agent?” He also asked, “What will happen to real estate agents, tourist agents, insurance agents, freight forwarding agents, etc.?”

He is quite educated, but still confused. So, I thought this week’s story should explain this clearly.

First of all, AI Agent is not a human trained in AI!
It is a software program that works in the background, but does the same job as a human agent.

Recently, Puneet Agarwal, Director at Amazon, wrote an article explaining this beautifully. I am summarizing it here using simple examples:

1. Basic Human Helper = Old Software
You tell your helper: “Call Udipi Hotel at 7:30 PM.”
If it’s closed, he just comes back and asks, “What next?”
This is how old software works — it only follows exact steps. No thinking or adjusting.

2. Smart Friend = AI That Understands (LLM - like ChatGPT)
You say: “I’d love to eat Ravva Dosa.”
Your smart friend knows your taste and suggests a great restaurant — but you have to book the table.

This is like ChatGPT — it understands what you want, but it can’t take action.

3. Smart Friend + Assistant = AI + Agent
You say: “Book dinner for me.”
Your smart friend asks a helper to do it. The helper can act, but he needs clear instructions on how to book at that restaurant.

This is AI + Agent. The AI understands you, and the agent does the work — but only if you teach it each step.

4. Smart Friend + Assistant + Guidebooks = AI + Agent + MCP
Now your helper has official guidebooks from restaurants, airlines, etc., which explain exactly how to book, check flights, reschedule, etc.
He does everything without asking you again.

This is the future — AI + Agent + MCP (Model Context Protocol). MCP is like a digital manual that tells the AI what to do, step by step, without extra code.

Now think — what will happen to real estate agents, insurance agents, or freight forwarders? The same AI agent can replace their routine tasks too.

That’s why I tell my MBA students:
“Learn to build AI agents. You already have domain knowledge. If not, engineers will take your job.”

And I tell my engineering students:
“Learn business knowledge and build AI agents — or MBAs with AI skills will take your job.”

Of course, it is also applicable to a medical student, a Chartered Accountant, a biochemist, or any other student.

Universities must change, too. It’s not just about multi-disciplinary anymore. Now we need education that mixes skills across fields (interdisciplinary) and even beyond fields (transdisciplinary).

On a lighter note, the first James Bond novel came out in 1953. It was Casino Royale, introducing Agent 007. But today’s AI agents might be even more thrilling — and definitely more dangerous to jobs!

Agents are scary, right?

Now think — how long before an AI + Agent + MCP replaces you?

– Ravi Saripalle

The Profession Where 'One More Chance' Isn't Guaranteed

Dear Friends,

If you miss a sales target in a quarter, at most your boss will scold you and push you harder for the next one.

If you are a teacher and your class doesn’t meet expectations, students may give you negative feedback — and you get a chance to improve.

If you are a lawyer or a doctor and lose a case or make a mistake, there’s still another opportunity to correct it next time.

But now, look at this profession and its challenges:

At the Siachen Glacier, temperatures can drop to as low as -70°C.

Soldiers don’t get proper sleep because of the constant risk of snow bites.

They have to soak their heavily socked feet in buckets of hot water for 15 to 20 minutes just to be able to sleep.

Merely touching the trigger or barrel of a gun with bare hands can lead to severe frostbite, causing the loss of fingers or toes.

There’s only 10% of the oxygen available compared to the plains.

On the western front, in the Thar Desert along the India-Pakistan border, temperatures soar beyond 50°C during the scorching summer months.

Water is precious and extremely limited.

At any moment, with just one hour’s notice, they must be ready to move — even if a parent or child is unwell, they must sacrifice and fulfill their duty.

Every minute is unpredictable. Every moment could be life-changing.

They cannot relax. They cannot casually call loved ones while on duty.

In our professions, even a slight disturbance to our planned leave makes us uncomfortable. We are blessed to have the time and space to share our problems and find comfort among friends and colleagues.

In the past two days, I found it hard to even sit down (cross-legged) continuously for a few hours in an event — they often crawl for hours to reach their targets.

They must remain physically fit before joining, during their service, and until the very last day.

They live in extremes — so that we can live in comfort.

They sacrifice their today — so that we can dream of our tomorrow.

They don't get "one more chance" — they have to be right, every single time.

Let us take a moment to salute these silent warriors,

whose courage, resilience, and sacrifices are beyond what words can express.

A simple "Thank You" will never be enough — but let’s start with it, from the bottom of our hearts.

Jai Hind!
Ravi Saripalle

From Knowledge to Learnability: Rethinking University Education for the 21st Century

Dear Friends,

Exactly 30 years ago, in April 1995, I came to Raipur as a postgraduate aspirant. Due to a few circumstances, I couldn't join the program. But I have no regrets. Today, I’m writing this article from Raipur—this time, as a speaker addressing principals from various schools across Chhattisgarh. The topic of my session was the same as the title of this article: “From Knowledge to Learnability.”

Why is Learnability Critical in Universities?

Is it more important to impart knowledge or to foster learnability? In my view, it’s learnability. Today, students have multiple avenues to acquire knowledge—online platforms, peer learning, AI tools—but far fewer opportunities to develop their learnability index.

Prof. Bharat from Harvard University recently spoke at the India Today Conclave on the theme of AI in classroom settings. He shared compelling insights from his work and experiments at Harvard, particularly in physical science courses taught by highly experienced instructors.

Human vs. Bot Tutors: A Surprising Experiment

In one of the experiments, Prof. Bharat’s team tested the hypothesis:

“Bot tutors may not be as effective in classroom engagement as human tutors.”

The methodology was fascinating. Each week, half of the students were assigned human tutors and the other half AI bot tutors. The groups were flipped weekly, and mastery of that week's content was assessed regularly.

The Unexpected Insight:

To everyone’s surprise, students tutored by AI bots consistently outperformed those taught by human tutors. Even more surprising was that student engagement was higher with the bots. This challenges many of our assumptions about classroom dynamics and suggests new possibilities for redefining the tutor’s role in the age of AI.

Learning Beyond the Classroom

Prof. Bharat also emphasized the importance of sensory and emotionally rich experiences—like dance, music, theatre, and art—in keeping the “learnability muscle” alive. He believes that as AI continues to surpass human capabilities in certain domains, learnability will be the key survival skill for the human race.

An MIT Study on AI vs. Human-Driven Search

Another insightful study from MIT compared two groups of students:
• One group used Google Search to research.
• Another group used Generative AI tools.

Both groups were later tested—not just on what they remembered, but on how well they could apply the information in a new context.

The result?

The Google Search group performed better in application-based tasks. The conclusion: Learnability, driven by genuine effort, curiosity, and critical thinking, leads to better learning outcomes.

Learnability Is the New Literacy

As Generative AI and Copilot tools become standard in our classrooms, we must shift our focus from “what to learn” to “how to keep learning.” This must be based on each student's socio-physical and psychological nature, and not just curriculum goals.

The future does not belong to those who know the most, but to those who can learn the fastest, adapt the quickest, and stay curious the longest.

Ravi Saripalle

Does AI Decide Our Fate? It’s Not Artificial Intelligence—Can You Guess What It Really Is?

 Dear Friends,

Yesterday, something unusual and unexpected happened. Just before the Kerala Public Service Commission exam began in Kasaragod, an unbelievable incident took place. An eagle suddenly swooped down and grabbed a candidate’s hall ticket from their hand.

Around 300 people stood there, stunned, as the bird flew up and calmly perched on a window ledge, holding the hall ticket in its beak. Everyone watched in silence, unsure of what would happen next.

Minutes passed. Just before the final cut-off time, the eagle dropped the hall ticket. Thankfully, it was quickly retrieved, and the candidate was able to take the exam.

Imagine! The candidate must have been preparing for this exam for years. And in the most bizarre way, a bird decided the timing.

To succeed in any exam—or in life—so many things need to come together: your health must support you, the weather should cooperate, your parents and mentors need to be there for you, and the questions asked must align with what you’ve studied. If it’s a descriptive exam, even the mood of the evaluator can matter. If we were to list all the conditions required for success, we could write an entire chapter!

We saw the same unpredictability during COVID-19. I personally know families where the father—healthy and the main breadwinner—passed away due to COVID-19, leaving the family financially and emotionally devastated. On the other hand, some individuals with multiple health issues survived and are now living happy lives. How do we make sense of this?

Today, economic instability and automation are also rewriting destinies. Shantanu Deshpande, founder and CEO of Bombay Shaving Company, recently talked about the 40-40 problem—people in their 40s earning ₹40 lakhs annually are more prone to layoffs. He advised professionals to continuously upgrade their skills and cultivate an entrepreneurial mindset, or risk being among the first to be let go.

So how do we interpret this? One part—effort and skill—is in your hands. The other part—fate, timing, external events—is completely beyond your control.

This raises a big question: If so much is out of our hands, what’s the point of putting in effort?

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying we should give up or leave everything to fate. Absolutely not.

True effort is about discipline. When you’re skilled at something and can create value with minimal effort, that’s discipline. When you earn and live with that discipline, you can face whatever comes your way—because you’ve done your part sincerely, without shortcuts or blame. And that helps you navigate both success and failure with peace of mind.

Beyond that, we must accept: some things are just not in our control.

Let’s take a cue from the natural world:

• Have you ever seen a bird collecting hundreds of sticks just because they’re available?

• Have you seen a lion hunting when it’s not hungry?

• Have you seen a honeybee stripping flowers bare?

No. They take only what they need. They live with balance and awareness.

That’s Animal Intelligence.

Something Artificial Intelligence cannot replicate.

So, which AI do you think truly shapes our lives?

Yes, my friends—AI doesn’t always mean Artificial Intelligence.

Sometimes, it's Animal Intelligence that teaches us the most profound lessons.

Ravi Saripalle

The Law of Unintended Consequences: From Ecosystems to Electric Cars

Dear Friends,

One of my friends, arguably the most intelligent among us, made an extreme decision to stay back and care for his family rather than pursue better prospects elsewhere. On one hand, he was empathetic and responsible, prioritizing his family’s well-being. On the other, he lost the opportunity to earn and provide better opportunities for the next generation. This is a classic dilemma that many sons and daughters face in their lives. In fact, in the 1970s, there was a movie titled Talla (Mother) or Pellama (Wife) that explored this very conflict. In such complex social systems, there is no absolute right or wrong. Fortunately, in modern times, these issues are often handled with better mutual understanding and acceptance.

Why am I bringing this social issue into the context of electric cars? Let me share another related story. Many of you might be familiar with The Borneo Cat Drop Experiment (1950s). In Sarawak, Borneo, a malaria outbreak led the World Health Organization (WHO) to spray DDT to kill mosquitoes. However, this pesticide also wiped out wasps, which controlled thatch-eating caterpillars. As a result, caterpillars multiplied and began destroying local roofs. Additionally, DDT poisoned insects, which were then eaten by geckos and eventually by cats—leading to a sharp decline in the cat population. With fewer cats, the rat population exploded, causing outbreaks of plague and typhus. To counter this, the British Royal Air Force was forced to parachute cats into Borneo to restore balance.

This is a perfect example of how solving one problem can unintentionally create new ones, setting off a chain reaction.

Recently, I came across a similar concern regarding electric vehicles (EVs) in a CBS News article: "As electric vehicles become more common, experts worry they could pose a safety risk for other drivers." While EVs offer environmental benefits by improving air quality, they also introduce new road safety challenges. On average, EVs are 1,000 to 3,000 pounds heavier than petrol/diesel-powered cars, which raises concerns about crash severity and road safety. Experts warn that in collisions, heavier EVs exert significantly greater force, increasing the risk of severe injuries for occupants of lighter vehicles.

Though I majored in physics during my graduation, I never studied it from a real-world application perspective. Reading this article made me revisit some fundamental physics concepts:

• Newton’s Second Law of Motion: F=ma (Force = mass × acceleration). Since EVs are much heavier than traditional gas vehicles, they exert greater force upon impact. In a crash with a lighter vehicle, the smaller car experiences greater deceleration and force, increasing the risk of injury to its occupants.

• Kinetic Energy Equation: KE=12mv2. Since EVs have a higher mass (mmm), they carry more kinetic energy at the same speed as lighter vehicles. In a crash, this energy needs to be dissipated, often causing greater structural damage to the smaller vehicle.

While EVs undoubtedly contribute to better air quality, their weight presents a new road safety challenge that demands innovative engineering and regulatory solutions.

Another question that arises is the availability of natural resources. Global proven oil reserves are estimated at 1.7 trillion barrels, while lithium (source for battery), though more abundant in the Earth's crust, is less accessible. Current global lithium reserves are estimated at 22 million tons. As demand for EVs grows, how will this resource crunch impact the industry? Only time will tell!

Regardless of whether you drive an EV or a petrol car, the only mantra remains: Drive Slow and Stay Safe!

Ravi Saripalle

Starting Early = Finishing Early = Faster Success! Can Nature Accept this Formula?

Dear Friends,

I was unable to speak until I turned five! My parents were a bit worried due to social pressure but couldn't do much to help. It was a time and place where there were no educational counselors or therapists. Then, a speech miracle happened—I finally started speaking. Maybe I was an outlier in those days, but back then, most of us accepted natural growth as it was. We grew as nature intended.

However, today, we live in an inorganic world. Consider a green banana: at room temperature (20-25°C), it ripens in 5-7 days. Placing it in a paper bag, rice, or a warm spot speeds up the process by 2-4 days. Using an oven or microwave makes it ripen almost instantly—but it alters the texture and taste. The banana softens but doesn’t become sweeter. Similarly, tomatoes ripen naturally on the vine in 1-2 weeks. Yet, farmers often use ethylene gas or calcium carbide to turn them red in just a few days.

What’s the lesson here? Rushing ripening makes things appear ready, but the real quality is lost.

Now, what about children? Can we accelerate maturity in them? This is a critical question.

We can build AI models, improving accuracy and reducing costs with each iteration. But can the same approach be applied to human development?

Why are children so exhausted today? Consider their educational journey:

• At age 2, they start preschool.

• At age 6, they enter Class 1.

• At age 15, they take their Class 10 exams.

• At age 21, they complete their graduation.

• At age 24, they finish their master’s degree.

• A few pursue PhDs or postdoctoral studies, finally reaching 30 before starting full-time employment.

Even after that, the struggle continues. Employees must clear business certifications every six months just to stay relevant. Every 2-3 years, they switch companies, each requiring new certifications with increasing levels of difficulty. It’s a relentless cycle.

In highly competitive countries like India, the pressure is immense. A recent article in India Today highlighted this reality: "1,200 apply for 2 internships, CEO calls out India’s 'employability crisis'." The author shared that his company’s Indian office had just two internship openings—but received a staggering 1,200 applications. Only about 20 candidates were shortlisted for further evaluation.

Amid this chaos, additional social pressures—salary packages, marriage, and career growth—add to the stress. These become three unavoidable stress pills.

Eventually, many feel exhausted. Some express their frustrations openly, but most suppress them, hiding behind a forced smile.

So, I ask you: Is your smile genuine?

— Ravi Saripalle