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New York City is sinking: 28 cities with 34 million people under big threat

New York City is sinking: 28 cities with 34 million people under big threat

India Today12-05-2025

New York City is sinking! Yes, you read that right.An analysis of 28 American cities has revealed that all 28 of them are sinking every year and the reason is over extraction of groundwater from the surface.The urban areas are sinking by 2 to 10 millimetres per year, according to new research from Virginia Tech that used the latest satellite imagery to assess the major changes unfolding under the feet.advertisement
Satellite-based radar measurements were used to create high-resolution maps of subsidence, or sinking land, for 28 of the most populous US cities. "Even slight downward shifts in land can significantly compromise the structural integrity of buildings, roads, bridges, and railways over time," Leonard Ohenhen, a former Virginia Tech graduate student and the study's lead author said.
Twenty-eight major U.S. cities, including New York, Dallas, and Seattle, are seeing urban areas sink. (Photo: Getty)
In every city studied, at least 20 per cent of the urban area is sinking — and in 25 of 28 cities, at least 65 per cent is sinking.advertisementThe study, published in the journal Nature Cities, analysed changes happening in New York, Chicago, Seattle, Denver, and five other cities that are sinking at about 2 millimetres per year."The latent nature of this risk means that infrastructure can be silently compromised over time with damage only becoming evident when it is severe or potentially catastrophic. This risk is often exacerbated in rapidly expanding urban centers," Associate Professor Manoochehr Shirzaei at Virginia Tech's Earth Observation and Innovation Lab said.The study revealed that the sinking was primarily due to the compounding effect of shifts in weather patterns with urban population and socioeconomic growth."It is potentially accelerating subsidence rates and transforming previously stable urban areas into vulnerable zones for flooding, infrastructure failure, and long-term land degradation," Shirzai added.Several cities in Texas exhibited some of the highest measured rates of subsidence at about 5 millimetres per year — and as much as 10 millimetres per year in certain areas of Houston.Must Watch

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Two films show our present is the future we once feared
Two films show our present is the future we once feared

Mint

time2 hours ago

  • Mint

Two films show our present is the future we once feared

If Hindi films often turn to dystopia to grapple with technological dread, then filmmakers Udit Khurana and Aranya Sahay chart a more unsettling course—rooting their narratives in real-life premises. For Khurana, the starting point for Taak lay in 2020 headlines that detailed how Chandigarh's sanitation workers were being forced to wear GPS-enabled tracking watches under the guise of efficiency. Sahay's Humans in the Loop on the other hand, draws from reporting that illuminated the invisible workforce sustaining artificial intelligence: indigenous women employed in data-labelling offices set up by tech companies across rural India. Both films don't imagine the future as much as reveal the overlooked realities of the present where the burdens of surveillance and automation fall most heavily on marginalised lives. Since its premiere at Mumbai MAMI Film Festival last year, Sahay's 72-minute feature debut has had an award-garlanded festival run, most recently winning the Grand Jury Prize at Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles (IFFLA) in May. Set in Jharkhand, Humans in the Loop follows Nehma (Sonal Madhushankar), a tribal woman who returns to her ancestral village after a separation. In order to gain custody of her teenage daughter and infant son, Nehma—a college graduate—takes up a job as a data-labeller at a nearby centre, effectively feeding information into systems that power an American tech company. Alongside other women hunched in front of their computer screens, Nehma spends her time labelling images of crops, weed and pesticides. On some days, she marks parts of the human body—right arm, left knee—so that when the algorithms are eventually shown a hand or a leg, they know what they are looking at. And on others, she is training it to recognise a football foul or differentiate between turmeric and ginger. It's slow, repetitive work, but essential. For all its promise, artificial intelligence can't build itself. Instead, it is realised through countless hours of 'ghost work", a term coined by American anthropologist Mary L. Gray to address the kind of underpaid back-end labour that propels the artificial intelligence revolution. Yet as Nehma delves deeper into the job, she begins to see the limiting worth of her own intelligence. Her American clients don't define her labour as knowledge—even though the job routinely necessitates her judgement and insight. When she refuses to label a caterpillar as a pest, arguing that it only feeds on rotting parts of the plant thus protecting it, her manager receives a complaint about poor data quality. Even when Nehma likens artificial intelligence to a child, saying it will learn the wrong things if fed the wrong input, she is told to stop using her brain. 'If the client says it's a pest, it's a pest," her supervisor snaps. A graduate of Film and Television Institute of India (FTII), Sahay directed short films and assisted Patrick Graham and Imtiaz Ali before helming Humans in the Loop. With the film, Sahay set out to examine how new, cutting-edge tech still echoes old hierarchies, prejudices, and inequalities. As Humans in the Loop suggests, when algorithms are built almost entirely on data sanctioned by the West, marginalised voices and knowledge systems disappear and progress becomes just another name for exclusion. With his directorial debut Taak, Khurana, much like Sahay, turns his gaze toward the politics of technology—how it becomes a tool that weaponises and perpetuates class and gender divisions in society. Like Humans in the Loop, the action in Taak, which also showed last year at MAMI Mumbai Film Festival, is located in the workplace. The 39-minute short revolves around Shalini (a magnetic Jyoti Dogra) and Komal (Ambika Kamal), two former wrestlers now working as bouncers at a testosterone-soaked Delhi nightclub. After a serious security breach one night, the club's management responds with a new rule: all staff members must now wear smartwatches, supposedly for safety—but clearly for control. Held accountable for her team's lapse, Shalini—the older of the two women—is pressured to ensure that no one resists the new rule. She complies immediately, believing the management's pitch that the watches are there to boost efficiency with location-tracking and attendance-clocking. But Komal, younger and more wary, sees it for what it really is: constant surveillance. She's hiding from a violent past and her safety depends on staying unseen. With the watch, which has facial recognition built into it, being found becomes all too easy. Komal's resistance ends up as a sore point between the two. But more crucially, Taak underlines, it also turns Shalini into both a victim of constant monitoring and the oppressor expected to enforce it. In that, Taak reveals a disturbing truth: in today's digital world, the working class is often made complicit in their own subjugation. Khurana, who previously shot Chhatrapal Ninawe's Ghaath (2023) and Sumanth Bhat's Mithya (2024), transforms the nightclub and the cramped bylanes of the Capital into a sharp metaphor for a surveillance state. A sense of danger pervades every exchange, every gesture in the film. By interweaving the plot with CCTV footage, the filmmaker employs sound and image to heighten this sense of entrapment and alienation—creating the feeling of being cornered in plain sight. In a way, most films consumed by the idea of a dystopian future often get caught up in their own dazzling visions. So it's oddly moving to see two independent films—made outside of the constraints that plague the Hindi film industry—resist framing technology's threats as a sudden catastrophe. Instead, they lavish attention on structures and spaces designed to ensure that technology's grip tightens little by little, settling into workplaces, into homes, and into bodies. Few Hindi films respond to our anxieties as they unfold. Taak and Humans in the Loop go one step further and remind us that our present is the future we once feared. 'Humans in the Loop' and 'Taak' screen at the New York Indian Film Festival this month. Poulomi Das is a freelance film and culture writer based in Mumbai.

Know about the snakes that can ‘fly'
Know about the snakes that can ‘fly'

Indian Express

time4 hours ago

  • Indian Express

Know about the snakes that can ‘fly'

Most of us think of snakes as slithering creatures that stick to the ground—or maybe climb trees at most. But believe it or not, some snakes can actually glide through the air, moving from tree to tree like something out of a fantasy film. It sounds unbelievable, but it's genuine. These unusual reptiles are known as 'flying snakes'. Okay, we acquiesce, the term 'flying' might be a bit misleading. These snakes don't actually have wings to soar like birds in the sky. What they do is even more fascinating—they launch themselves from high branches, flatten their bodies, and use their incredible flexibility to glide through the air, sometimes for distances as long as 30 metres (around 100 feet). That's longer than a blue whale! The most commonly known species is the paradise tree snake (Chrysopelea paradisi), part of the Chrysopelea genus. These snakes are native to southern Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, and parts of the Philippines and India. According to Encyclopædia Britannica, flying snakes live in tropical forests and are very good at climbing trees. They often start their glide by hanging off a branch, making a J-shape with their bodies before launching into the air. But how do they glide without wings? It's all in the movement. As the snake jumps, it spreads its ribs and flattens its body, like a living ribbon. It also wiggles from side to side in mid-air, which helps keep it stable and allows it to steer. Scientists from Virginia Tech published a paper in the Journal of Experimental Biology in 2014, studying this motion and found that it's actually very efficient, using airflow and body control to stay aloft. A 2020 study published in Nature Physics explains that this movement is much more complex than it looks. The gliding isn't just random falling—it's a carefully controlled movement that helps the snake land safely on its next tree or branch. This clever ability helps flying snakes escape predators, find food, and move through the forest faster than if they had to climb down and back up again. You might be wondering—are they dangerous? Thankfully, these snakes are not harmful to humans. While they do have mild venom that helps them hunt small prey like lizards, frogs, and birds, they're not a threat to us. In fact, they're often helpful because they help keep insect and rodent populations in check. These snakes are a great example of how amazing and strange nature can be. They show us that even animals we think we understand—like snakes—can evolve in surprising ways. Without wings, without legs, they've found a way to move through the air, just using the shape of their bodies and clever physics. It's a reminder that there's still so much we don't know about the natural world.

How maths helped identify fake paintings and other matters
How maths helped identify fake paintings and other matters

The Hindu

time11 hours ago

  • The Hindu

How maths helped identify fake paintings and other matters

The American Martin Gardner inspired generations of professionals as well as students like me, who saw that the subject was fun and enjoyed his books on mathematical puzzles. 'Fun' is not an aspect emphasised in our schools; the result is generations who might have enjoyed the subject being turned away for life. I love the popular maths books of George Gamow, and in later years, Ian Stewart, Simon Singh, Paul Hoffman, John Allen Paulos, and the wonderful Marcus du Sautoy, the Oxford professor for the Public Understanding of Science (it is likely that if an Indian university created such a post, its holder would quickly find himself in jail). Du Sautoy has written about the limits to science (What We Cannot Know), the art of the shortcut (Thinking Better), prime numbers (The Music of the Primes), the maths behind games (Around the World in 80 Games), books that I reread often. 'My big thesis,' du Sautoy once said, 'is that although the world looks messy and chaotic, if you translate it into the world of numbers and shapes, patterns emerge and you start to understand why things are the way they are.' Eight decades ago, G.H. Hardy wrote in his classic A Mathematician's Apology, ' A mathematician, like a painter or a poet, is a maker of patterns. If his patterns are more permanent than theirs, it is because they are made with ideas.' Du Sautoy credits Hardy with stirring his interest in maths in his recent book, Blue Prints: How Mathematics Shapes Creativity. He paints a large canvas, with scientists, architects, musicians, artists, choreographers, writers all of whom use mathematics – consciously or otherwise – in their work. Blueprints are the fundamental mathematical structures that underpin human creativity, he says, and goes on to discuss nine such blueprints from primes to randomness. Leonardo da Vinci, Jackson Pollock, Borges, Escher, Bowie are only a few of the non-mathematicians who appear as we discover patterns in unexpected places. Hardy wrote, 'the mathematician's patterns must be beautiful…beauty is the first test, there is no permanent place in this world for ugly mathematics.' You can see that here. Du Sautoy tells us that Macbeth has a numerical structure based on prime numbers and that the number of words in key scenes is a prime number. This rhythm contributes to the unsettling atmosphere of the play. Mozart's The Magic Flute, says du Sautoy, is 'dripping with maths'. The abstract works of Jackson Pollock which gave the impression of paint thrown recklessly onto a canvas had a deliberate structure too. Pollock always insisted he there was no accident in his work. He painted fractals, geometric patterns that repeat arbitrarily. Interestingly, when some canvases supposedly by Pollock were discovered after his death, they were shown to be fakes because they were not fractals. As students, we are told of the separation between the arts and the sciences; we often carry that idea into adult life. Mathematics, says Marcus du Sautoy, is the bridge that connects this cultural divide.

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