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21 August 2024 at 3:50:16 pm

Arid State

Maharashtra has finally put an official number on a crisis that farmers have been experiencing for weeks. The state government has declared 265 of its 358 talukas drought-affected, activating the first stage of its drought-management framework. The scale of the distress should make this more than another seasonal relief exercise. It is a reminder that water stress is no longer an episodic crisis but a recurring governance challenge. The state received 798.2 mm of rain against a normal 970.9...

Arid State

Maharashtra has finally put an official number on a crisis that farmers have been experiencing for weeks. The state government has declared 265 of its 358 talukas drought-affected, activating the first stage of its drought-management framework. The scale of the distress should make this more than another seasonal relief exercise. It is a reminder that water stress is no longer an episodic crisis but a recurring governance challenge. The state received 798.2 mm of rain against a normal 970.9 mm between June 1 and September 26, a deficit of 18 percent. The first drought trigger is activated when rainfall falls more than 25 percent below normal and is accompanied by a prolonged dry spell of 21 days. Though the aggregate state deficit is lower than that threshold, the taluka-level assessment has established the conditions required for intervention. Except for five districts, rainfall has been deficient across the state. The government has ordered a stay on the recovery of agriculture-related loans and restructuring of crop loans, while extending concessions on electricity bills for agricultural pumps. Employment Guarantee Scheme norms are to be relaxed; food grains provided to farmers and arrangements made for drinking water and fodder. Crop-loss surveys will determine the eventual financial assistance. While these measures can cushion the shock, they cannot solve the problem. Maharashtra has lived with drought long enough for drought relief to have become an administrative routine. The more difficult question is why the state repeatedly finds itself having to mobilise the same machinery. Tankers, fodder camps, loan restructuring and employment guarantees are indispensable when the rains fail. But they are essentially the politics and economics of response, not resilience. The state has considerable experience in watershed development, farm ponds, check dams, groundwater recharge and other forms of water conservation. Yet the effectiveness of such interventions depends less on announcing them than on where they are built, whether they are maintained and whether groundwater extraction is regulated. Large-scale water-conservation works announced as part of the present relief package must therefore be judged by measurable outcomes rather than expenditure. There is a larger agricultural question. A state with highly variable rainfall cannot indefinitely expand water-intensive cropping patterns in regions whose hydrology cannot support them. Crop choices, irrigation efficiency and groundwater management have to become part of drought policy rather than being treated as separate subjects. The present declaration should consequently be viewed as both relief and warning. While the relief is urgent, the warning is structural. The state government cannot control the monsoon but it can decide how much water it captures when the rains arrive, how efficiently it uses what it stores and how resilient its farmers are when the skies fail. A drought code can declare an emergency. But only sustained water management can prevent the emergency from becoming routine.

From Lahore to the Stars: The Genius of Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar

Sep 22, 2024
3 min read

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar

In the autumn of 1983, browsing through a university bookshop, I stumbled upon ‘An Introduction to the Study of Stellar Structure’ by S. Chandrasekhar. The name rolled off my tongue with intrigue. Little did I know that just months later, the man behind the name, Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar, would win the Nobel Prize for the insightful mathematics he done in 1930 — at the tender age of 19, while sailing from India to England to take up a scholarship at the University of Cambridge. His revolutionary discovery would forever change our understanding of the cosmos, even if it took the world many years to catch up with his brilliance.

Born on October 19, 1910 in Lahore to a family of Shaivite Brahmans, Chandra was a precocious if mischievous child. Tutored at home as his father distrusted the quality of the local schools – his mother taught him Tamil, his father English and mathematics – he did not enter formal schooling until he was eleven. By the time he was 15, at the Presidency College in Chennai, he was considered a maths prodigy. He was so devoted to his studies that his father used to admonish him, telling him to stop reading so much and get some fresh air. Then, at the age of 17, he spent the summer working in Kolkata, at his uncle’s laboratory, where he broke some of the apparatus, confirming for him that he was not destined to be an experimentalist. That uncle of his was C.V. Raman, famous for his work in the physics of light scattering, winner of the Nobel Prize in 1930, the first non-White person to do so in any branch of the sciences.

It was in his uncle’s laboratory that Chandra was introduced to the mathematics of the new quantum mechanics that was then transforming the world of physics, actually meeting such eminences as Arnold Sommerfeld and Werner Heisenberg. In 1929, with the help of Ralph Howard Fowler, Chandra published his first paper in the Proceedings of the Royal Society.

Fowler was to transform Chandra’s life. Fowler had been thinking about white dwarfs – small, hot, and very dense remnants of stars that have burned through all their nuclear fuel. Such stellar remnants did not make sense. Such stars should undergo total gravitational collapse. But, by applying the new quantum mechanics to white dwarfs, Fowler solved the problem of their existence.

On his voyage to England to become Fowler’s doctoral pupil at Cambridge, Chandra turned his mind to Fowler’s work on white dwarfs. Chandra’s insight was to realise that special relativistic effects must be taken into account within a white dwarf. Working out the mathematics, he demonstrated that Fowler’s explanation of the physics that stabilized white dwarfs would be true only up to a point, that there was an upper limit – now known as the Chandrasekhar Limit – to the mass of a star that could evolve into a white dwarf, about 1.4 times the mass of our sun. Any greater and the star would collapse into what we now know as a neutron star or even a black hole. Chandra’s insight has to be one of the greatest scientific discoveries of the 20th century.

However, at Cambridge, Chandra’s work on white dwarfs was to be ignored. As he completed his doctorate, he refined his calculations, and was pleasantly surprised when the great astronomer Sir Arthur Stanley Eddington, arranged for him to speak in 1935 at the Royal Astronomical Society in London. Expecting Eddington to support him, Chandra was shocked when Eddington spoke after him, ridiculing his conclusions, stating that something as large as a star could not simply disappear. Such was Eddington’s formidable prestige it would take many years for the Chandrasekhar Limit to be accepted. And it was not until 1972, when the first black hole, Cygnus X-1, was identified, that Chandra and his work would be fully vindicated.

Deciding that any future career path in England was now blighted by Eddington, Chandra returned briefly to India in 1936, where he married Lalitha, a physics scholar herself. It was a rare love match in those days. They would share a passion for literature and classical music. Unhappy with the political situation in India, Chandra and Lalitha left for the United States where he took up a position at the University of Chicago. There, he would stay for the rest of his working life, conducting much more ground-breaking research, and achieving fame as both an inspiring and intimidating teacher.

Although his Nobel Prize in 1983 was awarded solely for his youthful discovery, Chandra’s contributions to astrophysics spanned decades of groundbreaking work. Perhaps feeling the sting of the long-delayed recognition, he ended his Nobel lecture with a poignant reflection:

“The simple is the seal of the true. And beauty is the splendour of truth.”

(The writer is a novelist and retired investigator with an abiding passion for Chinese history)

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