Dear Parents,
During my talks at various
events, I quote a few inspiring stories. One of them is Usain Bolt. He
is an eight-time Olympic gold medallist and the world record holder in the 100
meters, 200 meters, and 4 × 100 meters relay. He won three consecutive Olympics
(2008, 2012, and 2016).
If we look at his personal
background, we will feel inspired. His parents ran a local grocery store in a
rural area. He suffered from scoliosis, a curvature of the spine that made his
right leg 1⁄2 inch (13 mm) shorter than his left. This condition causes an
uneven stride, with his left leg remaining on the ground longer than his right
and hitting the ground with less force. Having said that, biomechanics
researchers have studied, with no firm conclusions, whether this asymmetry has
helped or hurt Bolt in his sprinting career.
Bolt fell victim to a fraud
scheme, resulting in the disappearance of more than $12 million from his
retirement savings account. The account showed a balance of only $12,000, down
from its previous $12.8 million. Now 39, Bolt no longer runs due to a ruptured
Achilles near his foot. The eight-time Olympic champion admits retirement has
made him feel “human” again — even climbing a flight of stairs now leaves him
out of breath.
Life is like this. Most of us go
through this normal curve, a bell-shaped curve — a humble beginning, arriving
here single, reaching a peak in our career or health or assets or family
relationships or name or fame, and losing one after another, and leaving the
ground again single. Everybody knows this truth, but while acting, we get
covered. Anyway, this is philosophy.
Anyway, why did I bring this
topic today?
Alphin Masilamany Santha posted a
note on his LinkedIn. Beijing recently hosted the first-ever World Humanoid
Robot Games. Over 500 humanoid robots from 16 countries competed in events
ranging from sprinting and soccer to boxing and medicine sorting. Unitree H1
dominated the track, winning the 1500m in ~6:29. Robots stumbled, sprinted, and
even lost limbs mid-race — a true testbed for real-world AI. Boxing matches
were played with real seriousness. The interesting part is, the crowd cheered
like it was the real Olympics.
While there is technological
development, are we also transferring our emotions? Are we transferring our
physical energies to machines? This is the moot question.
In our childhood, every Shivaratri,
we used to play dramas throughout the night. The preparations for skits,
dresses, podiums, team selection, and many more used to start a month before.
We used to prepare the skits as if they were an exam. In one play, as drama,
and immediately in the next play, as an old grandmother. The whole street used
to witness our dramas. Can a video game replace this emotion?
During our childhood, we used to
play street cricket. Though I am not a player, teams used to send me as the
first opening batsman. I used to be out in the first over itself. However, when
I was walking to the ground, the cheer team used to raise slogans as “Boon.” I
used to be a little chubby, like David Boon, an Australian cricketer. We
were enjoying the experience, but not the real sports analytics.
Maybe we should be able to draw a
thin line between productivity and performance, a thin wall between efficiency
and emotion. If we aren’t able to draw this line, the young generation becomes
a victim of the virtual world. I teach “AI for Business” to my MBA
students, but it should be limited to business. It should not encroach on
entertainment.
The 0 to 8 age group is
the most vulnerable group to this change. We, as parents and teachers, should
save them like how the Olive Ridley Sea Turtles are saved across the
coastlines.
Ravi Saripalle
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