Friday, September 7, 2012

Trishankus

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Briefly, the story of Trishanku (T) goes like this:

He joined as a Research Scholar under Prof. Vasishta (Va). And committed 3 cardinal sins:

1. He hid the fact that he was expelled in his M.Sc. for his misbehavior.

2. He killed the milch cow of his Guide (Va).

3. And he ate it too.

That is why he is called Trishanku (his original name was Satyavrata).

And then he had the gumption of asking his Guide (Va) to recommend him to Heaven (Princeton) as a Post-Doc. Prof Va, a kind soul, didn't mind his 3 transgressions but declined to send him to Heaven without a Ph. D.

So, Trishanku quit Prof Va and joined Prof. Viswamitra (Vi), his rival. And fell on his feet. Prof Vi said "OK" (out of spite for Prof. Va) and gave T a fantastic Reco. But on his way to Princeton, the fraud was discovered and he was sent back from the Airport.

And T, mid-flight, prayed to Prof Vi to rescue him. A compromise was reached with Princeton, and T was accommodated as a Post-Doc at Timbuctoo University (West Africa) forever, in suspended animation.

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The (North) Pole Star is named for one of the staunchest devotees of Vishnu, called Dhruva.

But there is no single highly visible star at the South Pole of the Universe as we see it from our spinning Home Sweet Home (Earth). The nearest is the lovely constellation Southern Cross (Crux) which can't be seen from KGP. But it is highly visible to the naked eye in June-July from my seaside village, Muthukur (Nellore):









Now, our ancestors, being Aryans from the North, looked down on the South (North-South Divide) and named the Southern Cross for Trishanku (!)


 


http://www.sydneyobservatory.com.au/2008/distance-between-stars-of-the-southern-cross/

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Research Scholars are truly Trishankus...like bats they don't fit in as either Students or Teachers.

I passed my M. Sc. at AU before I completed my twenty (19 +).  And joined as a CSIR JRF in my Physics Dept at Vizagh with a stupendous stipend of Rs 250. Before my celebrations could begin in earnest, I was asked to travel to the Engg College, a mile away from Physics Dept, and 'take' the First Year B.E. Phy Lab once a week. The Engineering students then had their Phy Lab at 7.30 AM (!). And as I was living in the town I had to get up at 5 AM and change two buses.

As soon as I entered the Lab, the Lab Attendant asked me to take Roll Call.

And, as I called: "B. Nagaraja Rao", a chap lifted his hands and shouted:

"Yes, Sir!"

That sent spiders down my spine..."Sir"..."Me? a Sir???"

That experience of being called Sir for the first time in my life will never leave me. Call it thrill or fear.

And after ten minutes, a couple of students dragged me to their Table saying that they can't see the image of the pin in the air. They were doing what they called, "Boys' Method". We didn't have it in our Hons Lab probably because it was too simple an experiment and was thought infra-dig.

I sweated for an hour with the Engg guys breathing down my back...

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And I ran away to IIT KGP (somewhat like Trishanku) to join as an Ass. Lecturer (without a Ph. D.) and suffered like him for almost a decade. After spending 5 years as an Ass Lec, I joined Prof SDM as an RS (figuratively) for my Ph. D. while continuing to teach.

SDM was as strict as those Princeton guys and discovered that I wasn't very hep with my Math. And asked me to take Complex Variables and Partial Differential Equations from the Math Dept plus German as my Course Work.

And this is what happened to me....  

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"The teacher of Partial Differential Equations in Math Dept was lenient when I showed him my soiled Sneddon’s tome and my transcripts. I was excused from attending classes and taking the exams.

Then I went to the German teacher, a soft spoken bhadralok, who I discovered later on was as tough as nuts and bolts. I showed him my M.Sc. Degree Certificate where it was written ‘German’ against the compulsory foreign language. He smiled and mentioned softly that that degree was a decade old (as if the German language had undergone a metamorphosis in that decade), and asked me to attend all the classes and take all the tests. 

Phew!

The Complex Variable teacher, a revered old man, was even more uncompromising. I showed him my ‘Complex Variables’ course in my transcripts. But, he said he had his own ‘way’ of teaching that subject and I would immensely benefit from his lectures. He even changed his ‘routine’ kindly to accommodate my off-hours. He didn’t relent. So, I had to sneak into the Math Department and try and sit inconspicuously in the back row, while my ex-students of First Year were sitting in the front row and wondering what gps was doing back out there. That was not all. He used to throw a question and when none of his regular students could answer it, he would ask me to stand up and answer it for the students’ benefit. Everyone would start looking back and it was thoroughly embarrassing for both. And, he insisted that I take the exams with them. And he ‘circulated’ my mid-term answer script as a role model. 

DAMN!"

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Talking of the North-South Divide, I learned from Mark Twain's "Following the Equator" that there is a pronounced Equatorial Bulge in the Pacific Ocean:


Sept. 5.  Closing in on the equator this noon.  A sailor explained to a
young girl that the ship's speed is poor because we are climbing up the
bulge toward the center of the globe; but that when we should once get
over, at the equator, and start down-hill, we should fly.  When she asked
him the other day what the fore-yard was, he said it was the front yard,
the open area in the front end of the ship.  That man has a good deal of
learning stored up, and the girl is likely to get it all.

Afternoon.  Crossed the equator.  In the distance it looked like a blue
ribbon stretched across the ocean.  Several passengers kodak'd it.  We
had no fool ceremonies, no fantastics, no horse play.  All that sort of
thing has gone out.  In old times a sailor, dressed as Neptune, used to
come in over the bows, with his suite, and lather up and shave everybody
who was crossing the equator for the first time, and then cleanse these
unfortunates by swinging them from the yard-arm and ducking them three
times in the sea. This was considered funny.  Nobody knows why.


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