Friday, December 15, 2023

EK Janaki Ammal: The 'nomad' flower scientist India forgot

  • Published
IMAGE SOURCE,GEETA DOCTOR
Image caption,
Janaki Ammal was a pioneering Indian scientist

In March, the magnolias begin blooming at Wisley.

For the next few weeks, rows of pink flowers dot the small town in Surrey in the UK, beckoning passers-by to stop and smell them.

Few know, however, that many of these blooms have Indian roots.

They were planted by EK Janaki Ammal, a scientist who was born in the southern Indian state of Kerala in the 19th Century.

In a career spanning almost 60 years, Janaki studied a wide range of flowering plants and reworked the scientific classification of several families of plants.

"Janaki was not just a cytogeneticist - she was a field biologist, a plant geographer, a palaeobotanist, an experimental breeder and an ethno-botanist and not in the least, an explorer," says Dr Savithri Preetha Nair, a historian who has researched the scientist's life for years.

It's difficult, Dr Nair says, to name even one Indian male geneticist from the time who adopted such cross-disciplinary methodology in their research.

"She talked about biodiversity as early as the 1930s."

Janaki lived an inspiring life, but for decades, her work went largely unappreciated and her contribution to science was barely acknowledged.

But this year - which also marks Janaki's 125th birth anniversary - Dr Nair hopes to change that with an in-depth biography. The book, titled Chromosome Woman, Nomad Scientist: E.K. Janaki Ammal, A Life 1897-1984, was released earlier in November and is the product of 16 years of research spread across three continents.

It also marks, Dr Nair says, the beginning of "a grand project" of recovering stories about Indian women in science.

"Until now, published sources on women scientists have focused on Europe and North America," she says, adding that women from Asia and other regions "hardly figure anywhere".

IMAGE SOURCE,COURTESY OF THE JOHN INNES FOUNDATION
Image caption,
Magnolia kobus 'Janaki Ammal' flower, named after the Indian botanist

An extraordinary life

While Janaki's professional achievements were numerous, her family members say the way she lived her life was also inspiring.

"She thrived on human possibility," says Geeta Doctor, a writer and Janaki's grand-niece. "She was passionate about everything, completely liberated and always fixated on her work."

Janaki was born in Tellichery (now Thalassery) in Kerala in 1897. Her father, EK Krishnan, was a high court sub-judge in the Madras Presidency, an administrative subdivision in British India.

She grew up in privilege, in a large family that lived in a house called Edam, which Ms Doctor says was "the centre of Janaki's life".

The two-storey house had a grand piano, a sprawling library and spacious halls, its large windows overlooking a carefully-tended garden.

Janaki belonged to Kerala's Thiyya community, which is regarded as socially backward under the Hindu caste system.

But at Edam house, Janaki's life was far removed from any prejudices, Ms Doctor says.

That didn't mean she did not face caste discrimination in her life, she adds - but she never allowed it to stop her.

"If somebody displeased her, she would just move on."

IMAGE SOURCE,GEETA DOCTOR
Image caption,
Janaki spent many years in England

Touch of sweetness

After she finished school, Janaki moved to Madras (now Chennai) for higher education.

In 1924, she was teaching at a women's college when she received a prestigious scholarship from the University of Michigan in the US.

Eight years later, she became the first Indian woman to be awarded a doctorate in botanical science.

She returned to India shortly after, and taught botany in her home state before joining the Sugarcane Breeding Station at Coimbatore.

It was here that Janaki worked on cross-breeding sugarcane and with other plants to create a high-yielding variety of the crop that could flourish in India.

She was the first person to successfully cross sugarcane and maize, which helped in understanding the origin and evolution of sugarcane, Dr Nair says.

A particular hybrid she created, the historian adds, went on to produce many commercial crosses for the institute but she didn't receive credit for it.

In 1940 - just after World War Two had started - Janaki moved to London and joined the John Innes Horticultural Institution to continue her research.

The next few years were the most formative ones of her career. Five years later, she became the first woman scientist to be employed at the Royal Horticultural Society Garden at Wisley.

It was also a time of hardships and hard work - Britain was facing the brunt of the war and food supplies were heavily rationed.

"But Janaki was unfazed," Ms Doctor says. "When the bombs fell, she would just dive under the table or sleep under the bed - all in a day's work."

IMAGE SOURCE,COURTESY OF THE RHS LINDLEY COLLECTIONS
Image caption,
Janaki with her colleagues outside the laboratory at RHS Garden Wisley, 1947

This attitude extended to her personal life, she says.

"[The children of her family] were her equals and she expected us to keep up with her strict ways."

But there was a sweeter side to her as well.

Ms Doctor recalls that her grand-aunt gave them amazing books and took them on delightful picnics.

And she was always brimming with stories - about Kapok, the small black-striped palm squirrel that she had smuggled in her sari to keep her company in London; and her doll Timothy, who fascinated everyone at Edam.

Ms Doctor does not put dates to these memories - the past is simply the past - but she vividly remembers Janaki's strident personality and commanding presence; her vibrant yellow saris; and her "energetic yet subtle" ways.

"She enjoyed life in its minutiae and also the grand scheme of things, but with a rigorous scientific mind."

Dr Nair says that this was also evident in her work, which was not about one seminal revelation, but a series of small-scale discoveries which contributed "to the grand history of human evolution".

"The questions she asked were fundamental ones about plants and man."

IMAGE SOURCE,COURTESY OF THE RHS HERBARIUM
Image caption,
A Rhododendron specimen made by Janaki at RHS

Homecoming

In 1951, India's prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru asked Janaki to return to the country and help restructure the Botanical Survey of India (BSI).

Janaki, who was greatly inspired by the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi, went immediately.

"But her male colleagues refused to take commands from a woman and her attempts to re-organise BSI were turned down," Dr Nair says, adding that Janaki was never entirely accepted at the institute.

This caused her great pain and she could never entirely recover from it. So she took refuge in exploring the country in search of new plants.

In 1948, Janaki became the first woman to go on a plant-hunting expedition to Nepal which, according to her, was the most unique part of Asia botanically, says Dr Nair.

When she was 80, the Indian government awarded her a Padma Shri, one of the country's highest civilian honours. She died seven years later, in 1984.

Ms Doctor says that even though Janaki did not receive the recognition she deserved, she never lost her passion for studying life.

"She would always say 'my work will survive' - and it did."

Dr Nair agrees.

"Janaki's life continues to be a blazing testament to intellectual integrity."

Anna Mani: Why you need to know this Indian weather scientist


By Cherylann Mollan
BBC News, Mumbai
7th December 2023












Raman Research Institute
Anna Modayil Mani is among the first weather scientists in India

Long before climate change became a buzzword, an Indian woman was fighting the odds to make devices that would help people understand the environment better. But Anna Mani - one of the world's most prominent weather scientists - remains an unfamiliar figure to many in her home country.

Born in 1918 in Travancore, a former princely state that's now part of the southern state of Kerala, Mani is best known for helping India make its own instruments to measure the weather, thereby reducing the newly independent country's reliance on other nations.

But she also played an important role in making it easier for scientists to monitor the ozone layer. In 1964, she created the first Indian-made ozonesonde - an instrument that's sent up in the air in a balloon to measure the presence of ozone up to 35km (22 miles) above the ground.

By the 1980s, Mani's ozonesonde was routinely used on Indian expeditions to Antarctica. So, when physicist Joseph Farman in 1985 alerted the world to the presence of a large 'hole' in the ozone layer over the South Pole (he won a Nobel Prize for that 10 years later), Indian scientists could immediately corroborate Farman's discovery through data they had collected using Mani's invention.

Mani also created a solid foundation for India to use green technologies long before it became necessary to do so. In the 1980s and 90s, she set up about 150 sites to survey wind energy. Some of them were located in remote areas but the intrepid scientist travelled there with her small team to install stations to measure the wind.

Her findings have helped scientists set up numerous wind farms across the country, meteorologist CR Sreedharan writes in his essay on Mani.

Mani bravely followed her passion to study the weather at a time when it was uncommon for women to pursue higher education, let alone become a scientist. She displayed a hunger for knowledge and an urge to trod the unbeaten path from a young age.


















World Meteorological Organization
Mani helped India make its own meteorological instruments

Born into a rich family, Mani was the seventh of eight siblings - five boys and three girls. On her eighth birthday, Mani famously rejected a pair of diamond earrings - a customary gift from her parents to their daughters - and asked for a set of encyclopaedias instead.

In her teens, Mani chose to study instead of getting married like her sisters. Her decision received "neither active opposition nor encouragement from her family", scientist Abha Sur notes in her essay, An Appreciation of Anna Mani

But Mani's journey to becoming a pioneering meteorologist was not a straight one. In her family, it was the men who were encouraged to pursue high-level professional careers, not the women. Her dream was to study medicine, but since she was unable to do so, she decided to pursue physics as she was good at it.

She got her degree from Presidency College in Madras (now Chennai), and spent the next five years studying the properties of diamonds at Nobel Prize laureate CV Raman's laboratory at the Indian Institute of Science, before getting a government scholarship to study abroad.

Only, the scholarship wasn't to study physics but meteorological instruments as India needed expertise in this area at the time. Mani embraced the opportunity and travelled to the UK on a troopship, Sreedharan writes.

The 'nomad' flower scientist who India forgot

She spent the next three years studying all aspects of weather instruments, including how they were made, tested, calibrated and standardised. After returning to India in 1948 - a year after the country won independence from British colonial rule - she joined the weather department.

There, she used the knowledge she gained abroad to help India manufacture its own equipment which, until then, was being imported from Britain and other parts of Europe.

She set up a workshop to make more than 100 different kinds of instruments from scratch, including ones to measure rainfall, temperature and atmospheric pressure. She even prepared detailed engineering specifications, drawings and manuals for them.

A stickler for precision and accuracy, Mani did her best to ensure that the instruments were of the highest quality and reliability. "I believe that wrong measurements are worse than no measurements at all," she told the World Meteorological Organisation (WMO) in an interview in 1991.

Mani also played a pioneering role in developing instruments to measure solar radiation and set up a network of radiation stations around the country - another step towards her pet project of exploring renewable energy sources in India.

"These high-precision instruments, were till then, the monopoly of the western countries and most of the design parameters were kept secret. So one had to start from fundamentals and develop the entire technology oneself," Sreedharan writes.

















Raman Research Institute
Mani at her farewell party in 1980 at the Raman Research Institute, where she was a visiting professor for three years

Although Mani achieved great heights in her career, she experienced numerous instances of discrimination.

Her famous mentor, CV Raman, was known to admit only a few women to his lab and he placed several restrictions on them. "Raman maintained a strict separation of sexes in his laboratory," Sur writes in an essay in her book, Dispersed Radiance: Caste, Gender, and Modern Science in India.

And so for the most part, Mani and another female student worked alone, isolated from their peers, unable to engage in healthy discussion and debate on scientific ideas.

Mani also experienced discrimination from some of her male peers. In Sur's book, she talks about colleagues who would immediately perceive even a tiny error a woman made in handling instruments or setting up an experiment as a sign of "female incompetence".

When Mani audited a course on theoretical physics, it was generally assumed that the material would be "beyond her ken", Sur observes.


In the early 1960s, when Mani got a chance to be part of the International Indian Ocean Expedition - it involved equipping two ships with instruments to study the seasons - she couldn't go on the ships to collect data.

"I would have loved to have gone, but in those days women were not allowed on ships of the Indian navy," Mani told the WMO in her 1991 interview.


But, like many women of her generation, Mani refused to see herself as a victim of patriarchal attitudes.

She maintained that her gender never came in the way of her professional aspirations. "I did not feel I was either penalised or privileged because of being female," she told Sur.

Mani died in 2001 in Thiruvananthapuram city in Kerala. She never married, and according to available information, never regretted that decision. Her work and life continue to inform and inspire generations of people, in India and abroad.
World War Two: When 600 US planes crashed in Himalayas


By Soutik Biswas
India correspondent
BBC
9th December 2023
A newly opened museum in India houses the remains of American planes that crashed in the Himalayas during World War Two. The BBC's Soutik Biswas recounts an audaciously risky aerial operation that took place when the global war arrived in India.


Since 2009, Indian and American teams have scoured the mountains in India's north-eastern state of Arunachal Pradesh, looking for the wreckage and remains of lost crews of hundreds of planes that crashed here over 80 years ago.

Some 600 American transport planes are estimated to have crashed in the remote region, killing at least 1,500 airmen and passengers during a remarkable and often-forgotten 42-month-long World War Two military operation in India. Among the casualties were American and Chinese pilots, radio operators and soldiers.


The operation sustained a vital air transport route from the Indian states of Assam and Bengal to support Chinese forces in Kunming and Chungking (now called Chongqing).

The war between Axis powers (Germany, Italy, Japan) and the Allies (France, Great Britain, the US, the Soviet Union, China) had reached the north-eastern part of British-ruled India. The air corridor became a lifeline following the Japanese advance to India's borders, which effectively closed the land route to China through northern Myanmar (then known as Burma).

The US military operation, initiated in April 1942, successfully transported 650,000 tonnes of war supplies across the route - an achievement that significantly bolstered the Allied victory.
Getty ImagesThis operation sustained a vital air transport route from India to support Chinese forces in Kunming and Chunking

Pilots dubbed the perilous flight route "The Hump", a nod to the treacherous heights of the eastern Himalayas, primarily in today's Arunachal Pradesh, that they had to navigate.


This operation sustained a vital air transport route from India to support Chinese forces in Kunming and Chunking
Over the past 14 years Indo-American teams comprising mountaineers, students, medics, forensic archaeologists and rescue experts have ploughed through dense tropical jungles and scaled altitudes reaching 15,000ft (4,572m) in Arunachal Pradesh, bordering Myanmar and China. They have included members of the US Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA), the US agency that deals with soldiers missing in action.The forgotten Indian soldiers of Dunkirk

With help from local tribespeople their month-long expeditions have reached crash sites, locating at least 20 planes and the remains of several missing-in-action airmen.

It is a challenging job - a six-day trek, preceded by a two-day road journey, led to the discovery of a single crash site. One mission was stranded in the mountains for three weeks after it was hit by a freak snowstorm.

"From flat alluvial plains to the mountains, it's a challenging terrain. Weather can be an issue and we have usually only the late fall and early winter to work in," says William Belcher, a forensic anthropologist involved in the expeditions



Hump Museum 

A machine gun, pieces of debris, a camera: some of the recovered artefacts at the newly opened  museum


Discoveries abound: oxygen tanks, machine guns, fuselage sections. Skulls, bones, shoes and watches have been found in the debris and DNA samples taken to identify the dead. A missing airman's initialled bracelet, a poignant relic, exchanged hands from a villager who recovered it in the wreckage. Some crash sites have been scavenged by local villagers over the years and the aluminium remains sold as scrap.

These and other artefacts and narratives related to these doomed planes now have a home in the newly opened The Hump Museum in Pasighat, a scenic town in Arunachal Pradesh nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas.

US Ambassador to India, Eric Garcetti, inaugurated the collection on 29 November, saying, "This is not just a gift to Arunachal Pradesh or the impacted families, but a gift to India and the world." Oken Tayeng, director of the museum, added: "This is also a recognition of all locals of Arunachal Pradesh who were and are still an integral part of this mission of respecting the memory of others".

The museum starkly highlights the dangers of flying this route. In his vivid memoirs of the operation, Maj Gen William H Tunner, a US Air Force pilot, remembers navigating his C-46 cargo plane over villages on steep slopes, broad valleys, deep gorges, narrow streams and dark brown rivers.

William Belcher
Wreckage of many planes has been found in the mountains in recent years

The flights, often navigated by young and freshly trained pilots, were turbulent. The weather on The Hump, according to Tunner, changed "from minute to minute, from mile to mile": one end was set in the low, steamy jungles of India; the other in the mile-high plateau of western China.

Heavily loaded transport planes, caught in a downdraft, might quickly descend 5,000ft, then swiftly rise at a similar speed. Tunner writes about a plane flipping onto its back after encountering a downdraft at 25,000ft.

Spring thunderstorms, with howling winds, sleet, and hail, posed the greatest challenge for controlling planes with rudimentary navigation tools. Theodore White, a journalist with Life magazine who flew the route five times for a story, wrote that the pilot of one plane carrying Chinese soldiers with no parachutes decided to crash-land after his plane got iced up.

The co-pilot and the radio operator managed to bail out and land on a "great tropical tree and wandered for 15 days before friendly natives found them". Local communities in remote villages often rescued and nursed wounded survivors of the crashes back to health. (It was later learnt that the plane had landed safely and no lives had been lost.)


Not surprisingly, the radio was filled with mayday calls. Planes were blown so far off course they crashed into mountains pilots did not even know were within 50 miles, Tunner remembered. One storm alone crashed nine planes, killing 27 crew and passengers. "In these clouds, over the entire route, turbulence would build up of a severity greater than I have seen anywhere in the world, before or since," he wrote.

Parents of missing airmen held out the hope that their children were still alive. "Where is my son? I'd love the world to know/Has his mission filled and left the earth below?/Is he up there in that fair land, drinking at the fountains, or is he still a wanderer in India's jungles and mountains?" wondered Pearl Dunaway, the mother of a missing airman, Joseph Dunaway, in a poem in 1945.
Getty ImagesThe China-bound US transport planes took off from airbases in India's Assam

The missing airmen are now the stuff of legend. "These Hump men fight the Japanese, the jungle, the mountains and the monsoons all day and all night, every day and every night the year round. The only world they know is planes. They never stop hearing them, flying them, patching them, cursing them. Yet they never get tired of watching the planes go out to China," recounted White.


The operation was indeed a daredevil feat of aerial logistics following the global war that reached India's doorstep. "The hills and people of Arunachal Pradesh were drawn into the drama, heroism and tragedies of the World War Two by the Hump operation," says Mr Tayeng. It's a story few know.

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