Slumdog Millionaire

Over the weekend I went to watch the new film 'Slumdog Millionaire'. I hadn't seen the trailer beforehand, nor read the synopsis - I'd just heard that it was a 'feel-good' film.

It's one of the best films I've seen this year, although I'm not sure how good it made me feel. The storyline - a uneducated young man who came from the slums of Mumbai wins 20 million rupees on the gameshow 'Who wants to be a Millionaire?'. The explanation to how he knows the answers leads back to events that have happened in his life.

What this basic, rather dry, description doesn't prepare us for is the wealth of emotion both depicted in the film and drawn out of us, the audience. Whenever we read the economic news, India is always presented as the up-and-coming economic power, with a rapidly growing population and emerging competitor to the West. What we forget is how poor much of that population is. There's a major gap between the poor and the rich in India, as there is in many countries, but not so much in the UK. Life in the slums is still perhaps not as bad as for the orphans - who rummage amongst rubbish tips to find food, or are taken into begging syndicates, or prostitution. Charles Dickens' 'Oliver Twist' seems a ridiculous parody. The cinema was packed, but there was hardly a sound for much of the film.

Where there was sound, it was mostly laughter. Because what makes this film excellent is that it tugs at your heartstrings, but it's not asking for sympathy, or pity. This is how life is for many people in India, how they live. What is most heart-warming, and perhaps amazing to us, is how the children enjoy life to the full no matter how bad things seem to be. In this way, it is truly a 'celebration of life'. In the end, it all ends happily (although up to the last few minutes, after years of watching Hong Kong gangster films, I had my heart in my mouth waiting for a final gunshot) - but it is a film set in the country of Bollywood after all. How could it not be a happy ending?

If it hadn't been a happy ending, it could have been a very depressing film. As it was, it was a reminder not to take our lives and the things in it for granted - things like money, a roof over our heads, but also love, family, friends. And never to give up for the things that are important.

If that sounds a bit too heavy for you, then there's also the beautiful Frieda Pinto, who plays the grown-up Latika. And the grown-up Jamal, played by Dev Patel, is also quite good-looking, if you like his style. If that still doesn't persuade you, watch it to see what India is really like, for people of all social strata.

alien & predator

Certain members of our lab investigate the effects of virus infection on plant 'attractiveness' to insects that act as virus vectors, spreading disease from plant to plant. This means that we can't use insecticides or fungicides to keep down the numbers of other insects that like to nibble and make holey patterns in the leaves. Instead, we use biological control, in the form of tiny predatory mites that feed on the babies of the greedy herbivores.

The mites are tiny and not visible to the naked eye (at least, not to mine). But when I was working on the confocal microscope it was very obvious that the company from which we order our biological control agent wasn't just sending us some sawdust and saying it contained mites. As I was scanning along the epidermal cell layer, I suddenly came across a six legged creature with armour plating down its back, sitting under my lens. I was quite taken aback.

I found a few more on my tissue samples. Normally I rinse the tissue well before imaging, but this time I must not have cleaned the leaves as thoroughly as usual. I quite like the images, they look rather cool. I'm glad it's not a life-size picture though, they remind me of cockroaches.....

Hypothetical xmas wish list (part I)

One for my christmas wish list....


....but that suggests that I have started writing..... (tense - past imperfect)

Kamikaze chestnuts

There's something very comforting about roasted chestnuts in the middle of the winter. Yesterday my friend decided to roast chestnuts in his oven, as we lacked the availability of an open fire to cluster round. As we waited, the music from the Korean TV show we were watching was punctated by thumps coming from the oven, indicating that the chestnuts were cooking nicely.

Perhaps a bit too nicely as it turned out. After a particularly loud 'whump' we opened the oven door and cautiously took the lid off the baking tray. One chestnut had decided to sacrifice itself for its comrades by exploding in an attempt to break out of the oven. As we took the tray out, another chestnut exploded between my friend's feet (and resulting, I'm ashamed to say, in a shriek from me). Evidently this was another noble attempt to save the rest by attacking us. Unfortunately for them, it had the opposite effect, as we decided to quickly stab all the remaining chestnuts to release the air inside before they all turned into little suicide bombers. There was one last stand by a chestnut I stabbed, as it retaliated with a stream of hot juice across my arm and the chair behind.

Unexpected excitment from an evening snack.

For those who wish to roast their own chestnuts in a more peaceful manner, this is what you should do

1. Cut a cross into the skin of the chestnut, to act as a steam vent whilst cooking. This will prevent the kamikaze attacks characteristic of the sort I described above.
2. Put the chestnuts in a metal roasting tray, and place into a preferably preheated oven at about 225 degrees centrigrade.

3. After about 20-25 minutes they should be cooked.

4. Peel whilst warm. You could turn the oven off and keep the chestnuts warm in it whilst you peel a few at a time.

overworked

My blog may become a shrine, or at the very least, an advertising space for PhD comics, but they're just so accurate...
The rate at which things disappear FROM my to-do list - 3 lines/week

The rate at which things appear ON my to-do list - 12 lines/week (or if you take the rate of interest over the time period during which I have a meeting with my supervisor - 2 lines/5 minutes)

That latter is limited only by the speed at which I can write down and make semi-sense out of his comments.