==========================================================================
That was a Saturday Evening in August. I knew that SDM religiously took out his wife to the Saturday Evening Show at the Netaji Auditorium, without fail. This was perhaps the only outing the poor lady had in that desolate campus, sans TV, sans phones, sans eateries, sans any sign of civilization. To her, it was a great escape from the routine drudgery. To SDM, it just didn’t matter. Whether it was the sofa in his drawing room or the padded chair in Netaji, it made no difference where he sat. His work needed no pencil, paper or lighting…it was all up there. I read some such remark made by Einstein when he had to stand in a queue somewhere.
Next day was a Sunday, when India were playing Australia. Neither he nor I wanted to miss the ‘commentary’ on our humming pocket transistors. And, I was stuck for three days, unable to determine the limits of an integral that was foxing me in one of our joint efforts. By then I knew what the answer should look like, but I just couldn’t get the limits. Those were my ‘senior’ years with SDM, when he practically withdrew from active calculations, but was helping me when needed.
So, I took out my rusted push-bike and pedaled furiously to his Qrs. to catch him before his rickshaw left for the Netaji. I just made it and showed the thing to him and asked him how to fix the limits. He stared at it for a few minutes, while Mrs. SDM was looking daggers at me (she was a wonderful host and fed me sumptuous loochies in the evenings when SDM wouldn’t let go of me from his reminiscences, but now it was different; the show will start off soon).
He then gave me a hint to draw a parabola; and its intersections with a straight line should give me the limits. The rickshaw chap was hustling and ringing his bells like mad, with Mrs. SDM seated in it. Before boarding the rickshaw, SDM told me that if his suggestion works, I don’t have to report to him; but if it didn’t, I have to go to his Qrs. at 9.30 P.M., when he would be back home from the cinema, so that he could have a second look at it. That was fine with me.
On my way back I saw what an ass I was and how such a simple trick didn’t strike me. His suggestion worked like a charm and the integral was done in half an hour and I proceeded with the rest of the calculation, got very satisfying results as per my hunch; ate my delightful dinner in the tasteless mess and slipped into bed with a Perry Mason trial court scene that I was dying to finish.
And then it started ‘pouring’. You know how it rains in KGP in August, when it decides to. Heavens simply open up. That was smug with me and it was just the weather for a fag or two.
At around 11.30 P.M. there was a knock on my door. I was curious who that could be, in such a foul weather. Opening the door, I found it was SDM himself, with a dripping umbrella and soaked from waist to foot like a wet sock. I asked him to come in, improvised a seat for him somehow, and asked him what the matter was. He asked if his ‘parabola’ worked. I replied that it worked like a wonder. He felt greatly relieved. I told him that I would have gone to his Qrs. at 9.30 P.M. if it didn’t work as per our understanding. He then remarked that he was afraid his suggestion didn’t work, but probably I didn’t feel like going out in such a lousy weather to his Qrs. I was mortified by the misunderstanding and felt that I perhaps should have gone to his Qrs. anyway.
That was SDM!
I gave him a fresh towel, made some black coffee and we two shared some welcome hot drink in wettest weather. I took the opportunity to show him all the progress I made and he was pleased that everything was going swimmingly. We then talked of this and that and I escorted him back to his Qrs; both of us completely wet, but pleased as punch.
Do we have such ‘guides’ nowadays? I wonder!
Talking of drawing parabolas, I am reminded of a story SDM told me (apocryphal, no doubt). It was about a physics student doing his doctorate under a celebrity guide at Oxford. Apparently the two had only two meetings. The first was when the guide gave him a problem. The other was when the student was stuck at one step a year later. He took the problem to his guide, who looked at it and made a pithy remark: ‘Drop a perpendicular’, before hurrying to watch a cricket match. A year later, the student defended his thesis gloriously and, became a celebrity himself.
On the banks of the river Kaveri, the poet-musician-saint Thyagaraja sang that “There are any number of great people in this world”.
For every great one, there are a hundred greater ones. The really great people know this. And so, they are ever modest.
The Night It Poured
That was a Saturday Evening in August. I knew that SDM religiously took out his wife to the Saturday Evening Show at the Netaji Auditorium, without fail. This was perhaps the only outing the poor lady had in that desolate campus, sans TV, sans phones, sans eateries, sans any sign of civilization. To her, it was a great escape from the routine drudgery. To SDM, it just didn’t matter. Whether it was the sofa in his drawing room or the padded chair in Netaji, it made no difference where he sat. His work needed no pencil, paper or lighting…it was all up there. I read some such remark made by Einstein when he had to stand in a queue somewhere.
Next day was a Sunday, when India were playing Australia. Neither he nor I wanted to miss the ‘commentary’ on our humming pocket transistors. And, I was stuck for three days, unable to determine the limits of an integral that was foxing me in one of our joint efforts. By then I knew what the answer should look like, but I just couldn’t get the limits. Those were my ‘senior’ years with SDM, when he practically withdrew from active calculations, but was helping me when needed.
So, I took out my rusted push-bike and pedaled furiously to his Qrs. to catch him before his rickshaw left for the Netaji. I just made it and showed the thing to him and asked him how to fix the limits. He stared at it for a few minutes, while Mrs. SDM was looking daggers at me (she was a wonderful host and fed me sumptuous loochies in the evenings when SDM wouldn’t let go of me from his reminiscences, but now it was different; the show will start off soon).
He then gave me a hint to draw a parabola; and its intersections with a straight line should give me the limits. The rickshaw chap was hustling and ringing his bells like mad, with Mrs. SDM seated in it. Before boarding the rickshaw, SDM told me that if his suggestion works, I don’t have to report to him; but if it didn’t, I have to go to his Qrs. at 9.30 P.M., when he would be back home from the cinema, so that he could have a second look at it. That was fine with me.
On my way back I saw what an ass I was and how such a simple trick didn’t strike me. His suggestion worked like a charm and the integral was done in half an hour and I proceeded with the rest of the calculation, got very satisfying results as per my hunch; ate my delightful dinner in the tasteless mess and slipped into bed with a Perry Mason trial court scene that I was dying to finish.
And then it started ‘pouring’. You know how it rains in KGP in August, when it decides to. Heavens simply open up. That was smug with me and it was just the weather for a fag or two.
At around 11.30 P.M. there was a knock on my door. I was curious who that could be, in such a foul weather. Opening the door, I found it was SDM himself, with a dripping umbrella and soaked from waist to foot like a wet sock. I asked him to come in, improvised a seat for him somehow, and asked him what the matter was. He asked if his ‘parabola’ worked. I replied that it worked like a wonder. He felt greatly relieved. I told him that I would have gone to his Qrs. at 9.30 P.M. if it didn’t work as per our understanding. He then remarked that he was afraid his suggestion didn’t work, but probably I didn’t feel like going out in such a lousy weather to his Qrs. I was mortified by the misunderstanding and felt that I perhaps should have gone to his Qrs. anyway.
That was SDM!
I gave him a fresh towel, made some black coffee and we two shared some welcome hot drink in wettest weather. I took the opportunity to show him all the progress I made and he was pleased that everything was going swimmingly. We then talked of this and that and I escorted him back to his Qrs; both of us completely wet, but pleased as punch.
Do we have such ‘guides’ nowadays? I wonder!
Talking of drawing parabolas, I am reminded of a story SDM told me (apocryphal, no doubt). It was about a physics student doing his doctorate under a celebrity guide at Oxford. Apparently the two had only two meetings. The first was when the guide gave him a problem. The other was when the student was stuck at one step a year later. He took the problem to his guide, who looked at it and made a pithy remark: ‘Drop a perpendicular’, before hurrying to watch a cricket match. A year later, the student defended his thesis gloriously and, became a celebrity himself.
Epilogue
For every great one, there are a hundred greater ones. The really great people know this. And so, they are ever modest.
No comments:
Post a Comment