============================================================================
Wise men have said that Half-Knowledge is dangerous.
This implies that Full-Knowledge and Nil-Knowledge are benign.
Everyone thinks that Full-Knowledge is best. But often, Nil-Knowledge is even better. Because it is impossible for anyone to have Full-Knowledge in all subjects that concern us; whereas it is a breeze to have Nil-Knowledge. But not nowadays when we are constantly bombarded with information on all subjects day in and night out. Newspaper Supplements (like vitamin supplements), TV Specials and Internet are the main culprits (apart from Mr Know-All friends).
As long back as a century ago, Jerome K Jerome did the near-fatal thing of reading a medical do-it-yourself book. And discovered that he had symptoms of all the listed diseases except the housemaid's knee (which exception he resented). And his doctor, after examining him, prescribed strict abstention from specialist's books.
Books and Internet give you information which is as different from knowledge as a recipe is from the dish.
My psychiatrist once warned me not to browse the net for diagnosis and treatment...my favorite was Harvard Medical School's website. He was right. In general, no two sets of symptoms are absolutely alike just as no two bodies are congruent...not even Siamese Twins'. And the treatment differs heavily on the so-called extraneous factors like teeth.
I recall the story of a patient who had unremitting headache and bouts of fever that didn't respond to any antibiotic or painkiller. She was brought, at last, to my MD Uncle at Vizagh. Apparently, he asked her to open her mouth (like Yashoda did to Krishna) and asked her to get her left upper molar extracted. She recovered in a jiffy...all her suffering went away with her left upper molar.
There is a Sanskrit saying that goes: "Prishtha thadanad dantha bhangah" (a kick on the arse resulting in tooth extraction). I mean, most 'systems' we deal with are extremely complex entities.
Take Bajaj Chetak scooter for instance. I bought one in 1984 and used it till 2004 and sold it too.
Just because I got the first mark in my Hons Exam in Heat Engines and had by heart the PVT diagrams of the Carnot, Otto, Disel, Rankine Cycles (information) it doesn't mean that I can repair a scooter when it fails on the road. That requires Billoo near Harry's, who would smile away at the mention of Second Law of Thermodynmics. He taught me when to tilt the damn thing to the Engine Side and when to the Toolkit Side (the Chetak Manual on its first page divides the scooter into these two horribly asymmetric halves).
Once there were these two new and young faculty members of the ME Dept at KGP (I met them in the 3-hour exercise in futility called Invigilation and coached them). They were both specialists in Heat Engines. One evening while I was crossing the Railway Maidan on my way to Gole Bazaar I saw the two on the wayside with their brand new gleaming Chetak with its flaps open. They were fiddling with it. I thought that maybe they were playing with it. But after half an hour when I was on my return from Gole Bazaar (after buying a pacifying sari to my wife), I found them still there fiddling with what they called was the fuel-line. I parked my Chetak under the tree and asked the usual May I Help You. I promised I wouldn't meddle with its innards. I asked them which side they tilted their scooter and they replied to the Engine Side. I at once tilted it to the Toolkit Side and kept it there for half a minute and then asked them to kickstart it...it went boisterously alive.
One noon I was waiting at St Agnes School with my Chetak to retrieve my infant son from Ms Mary's Class. And when he duly arrived, I kicked the starter rather jubilantly and the starter pedal got stuck like that monkey's tail in the groove. I then took a stone and hit it down with all my force...nothing happened. Then my friend RSS (who arrived to retrieve his dot product) tried to help with a bigger stone. The pedal refused to oblige like the biblical Balaam's Ass. I then asked RSS to please fetch Billoo telling him my misery. Billo arrived with a hammer and gave the pedal a light blow in the upward direction against all commonsense. The damn thing got released and all was hunky-dory. I asked Billoo how much is his fees and he smiled it away; and offered me his hammer to be kept in my toolkit for future bouts of misbehavior. God takes care of Good Samaritans like Billoo as I came to know that his son (a great cricketer) got a job in IIT Gymkhana.
Anyway, I wanted to advise my readers that it is imperative to strictly bypass pages dealing with the following subjects and attain blissful Nil-Knowledge in them:
1. Health...stents, cabbages, sclerosis, yoga, art of dying, slimmos, blue pills...
2. Money...shares, debentures, futures, bourses, bonds, equities, inequities...
3. Motor Vehicles...spark plugs, shafts (crank and otherwise), clutch plates, oils (gear, engine, coolant, brake), radiator...
4. Computers...cookies, downloads, uploads, java, mal-aysia, cloud, rain, hail...
5. String Theory...heterotic, neurotic, branes, brawns, brains...
Cheers!
=============================================================================
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Front Office
=========================================================================
By far the most shocking Front Office Incident in our mythology is the story of how the most beloved of our gods, Ganeshjee, got an elephant's head over his human torso.
There are hundreds of versions of this story but I like the one told me by my Father best...it is always so with childhood imprinting.
According to my Father, there was once a terrific commotion in the Himalayan precincts. A wild elephant went berserk and was trampling on anyone that came in his path (he was in musth, maybe). He was acting like the proverbial bull in the china shop. Everyone was running helter-skelter and at last the survivors went up the Kailas Mountain and prayed to Lord Shiva to rescue them from the depredations of the menacing predator.
Lord Shiva said: "Just a moment" to his consort Parvati and went in search of the Destroyer of Peace in his dominion (Shiva means peace and bliss). But by then the elephant made good speed and Shiva was rather late returning home. Parvati got bored waiting for her husband and wanted to get done with her delayed ablutions (shampoo bath). Since there was no one at home to guard the gates, she took a mound of sandalwood paste, modeled it into the figure of a boy and breathed life into it...and Ganesha was born. And she fell in love with her own delightful creation (rather like Pygmalion). And asked Ganesha to guard the gates of the bathroom and prevent any male from intruding.
Ganesha took up his position and the first male to come in was Shiva himself, tired, angry and hungry, and carrying the head of the slain elephant in his hands as a trophy to Parvati.
But Ganesha couldn't make out who he was (there were no Business Cards then) and duly stopped Shiva in his tracks. Shiva naturally got wild and beheaded this insolent urchin and went in. Knowing what happened, Parvati was inconsolable that her Lord killed her own creation. Shiva was sorry and wanted to make quick amends (He was hungry as my Father told you) and so transplanted the Elephant's head He was carrying onto the boy's torso...He could as well have replaced the original head of the boy that was lying on the floor, but as you know, people lose their cool when angry and hungry.
*************************************************************************************************************
After debating with myself quite a while, I concluded that the one that most needs a Front Office Assistant is the Physician. It is not wise for him to entertain more than one patient at a time.
In this context I recall the Punch Cartoon which showed a blonde sitting upright on the dressing table of her Physician and asking:
"Doctor, when do I start stripping?"
Of all the doctors who need privacy with their patients, I discovered that Psychiatrists need their Front Office most. Their patients are not exactly sane but insanity has hundreds of shades and colors and it is best not to mix up; unlike headache and fever for which Dolo-650 will do for all.
Here I recall a cartoon in a Weekly Magazine in my boyhood which showed a man suffering from Depression squatting on the ceiling fan and singing joyfully. His wife explains to their visitor:
"The Doctor wrote 'six pills every hour' instead of 'one pill every six hours'. "
******************************************************************************************************************
At IIT KGP for a long long while no HoD in Physics had a Front Office with a spoilsport Secretary.
But the Director's Office had one...Mr Biswas (no one called him Biswas-da because he never socialized and most everyone was scared of his no-nonsense persona, at least I was).
Once I went to the Director's Office accompanying one of my colleagues, D, who wanted to meet the Director (I never wanted to).
D: Can I see the Director for a moment please? It is official work
B: No! He is busy
D: When can I see him?
B: Next Friday after office hours
It just happened that the Director came out of his Chamber, saw D, approached him, put his hands on D's shoulder, took him inside and gave him tea and biscuits (they were trying to collaborate on a book).
After his retirement and reemployment in STEP, I came to know Mr Biswas somewhat closely...both of us were ripe by then. And found him a most pleasant, efficient, and courteous gentleman...it was the nature of his job...like so many traffic policemen...they must all be good husbands and fathers and friends if you meet them at their homes...
*************************************************************************************************************
I happened to act as a Front Office Bully to my friend N, who was always in one or the other administrative positions at KGP. He was so nice that he could never say 'no' to folks who wanted to meet him. And so he had no time for himself during Office Hours.
When he was tired and wanted quality time for himself, he used to walk down into my room and take me to Harry's for a cup of tea. And many would see him and try to mob him with some request or the other...but seeing me beside him they would recoil...such was my reputation as a groucho...ask Indra:
http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2011/09/sweet-sixty.html
I used to joke with my friend that he was using me as Arjun used Shikhandi (hermaphrodite) to fight Bhishmacharya.
*************************************************************************************************************
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"Steve Jobs helped me in my fight for Jan Lokpal"...Hazare
==========================================================================
By far the most shocking Front Office Incident in our mythology is the story of how the most beloved of our gods, Ganeshjee, got an elephant's head over his human torso.
There are hundreds of versions of this story but I like the one told me by my Father best...it is always so with childhood imprinting.
According to my Father, there was once a terrific commotion in the Himalayan precincts. A wild elephant went berserk and was trampling on anyone that came in his path (he was in musth, maybe). He was acting like the proverbial bull in the china shop. Everyone was running helter-skelter and at last the survivors went up the Kailas Mountain and prayed to Lord Shiva to rescue them from the depredations of the menacing predator.
Lord Shiva said: "Just a moment" to his consort Parvati and went in search of the Destroyer of Peace in his dominion (Shiva means peace and bliss). But by then the elephant made good speed and Shiva was rather late returning home. Parvati got bored waiting for her husband and wanted to get done with her delayed ablutions (shampoo bath). Since there was no one at home to guard the gates, she took a mound of sandalwood paste, modeled it into the figure of a boy and breathed life into it...and Ganesha was born. And she fell in love with her own delightful creation (rather like Pygmalion). And asked Ganesha to guard the gates of the bathroom and prevent any male from intruding.
Ganesha took up his position and the first male to come in was Shiva himself, tired, angry and hungry, and carrying the head of the slain elephant in his hands as a trophy to Parvati.
But Ganesha couldn't make out who he was (there were no Business Cards then) and duly stopped Shiva in his tracks. Shiva naturally got wild and beheaded this insolent urchin and went in. Knowing what happened, Parvati was inconsolable that her Lord killed her own creation. Shiva was sorry and wanted to make quick amends (He was hungry as my Father told you) and so transplanted the Elephant's head He was carrying onto the boy's torso...He could as well have replaced the original head of the boy that was lying on the floor, but as you know, people lose their cool when angry and hungry.
*************************************************************************************************************
After debating with myself quite a while, I concluded that the one that most needs a Front Office Assistant is the Physician. It is not wise for him to entertain more than one patient at a time.
In this context I recall the Punch Cartoon which showed a blonde sitting upright on the dressing table of her Physician and asking:
"Doctor, when do I start stripping?"
Of all the doctors who need privacy with their patients, I discovered that Psychiatrists need their Front Office most. Their patients are not exactly sane but insanity has hundreds of shades and colors and it is best not to mix up; unlike headache and fever for which Dolo-650 will do for all.
Here I recall a cartoon in a Weekly Magazine in my boyhood which showed a man suffering from Depression squatting on the ceiling fan and singing joyfully. His wife explains to their visitor:
"The Doctor wrote 'six pills every hour' instead of 'one pill every six hours'. "
******************************************************************************************************************
At IIT KGP for a long long while no HoD in Physics had a Front Office with a spoilsport Secretary.
But the Director's Office had one...Mr Biswas (no one called him Biswas-da because he never socialized and most everyone was scared of his no-nonsense persona, at least I was).
Once I went to the Director's Office accompanying one of my colleagues, D, who wanted to meet the Director (I never wanted to).
D: Can I see the Director for a moment please? It is official work
B: No! He is busy
D: When can I see him?
B: Next Friday after office hours
It just happened that the Director came out of his Chamber, saw D, approached him, put his hands on D's shoulder, took him inside and gave him tea and biscuits (they were trying to collaborate on a book).
After his retirement and reemployment in STEP, I came to know Mr Biswas somewhat closely...both of us were ripe by then. And found him a most pleasant, efficient, and courteous gentleman...it was the nature of his job...like so many traffic policemen...they must all be good husbands and fathers and friends if you meet them at their homes...
*************************************************************************************************************
I happened to act as a Front Office Bully to my friend N, who was always in one or the other administrative positions at KGP. He was so nice that he could never say 'no' to folks who wanted to meet him. And so he had no time for himself during Office Hours.
When he was tired and wanted quality time for himself, he used to walk down into my room and take me to Harry's for a cup of tea. And many would see him and try to mob him with some request or the other...but seeing me beside him they would recoil...such was my reputation as a groucho...ask Indra:
http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2011/09/sweet-sixty.html
I used to joke with my friend that he was using me as Arjun used Shikhandi (hermaphrodite) to fight Bhishmacharya.
*************************************************************************************************************
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"Steve Jobs helped me in my fight for Jan Lokpal"...Hazare
==========================================================================
Monday, October 10, 2011
Business Card
==========================================================================
Two words I learned from my son soon after retiring from KGP and trying to settle down in Hyderabad are: (1) Business Card and (2) Front Office.
Not that I didn't know what objects they meant, but the very words were cute.
I asked him to show me his Business Card; and told him that I knew it as Visiting Card. But in Hyderabad no one apparently 'visits' anyone but for purposes of 'business'.
As far as I know, none of the 200 odd Professors at KGP went to the trouble of getting their business cards printed, at least till the 1990s when a handful of them had to travel to the corridors of power in Delhi for getting projects and funds. It was about that time when there appeared a new and thriving Section called: SRICC...decipher it yourself.
The lack of enthusiasm for making up one's Business Card is due to several factors.
First, Bengal was egalitarian (sorry, can't find a simpler word). Among the crowd of half a dozen canteen-troopers, there was no way you could locate the Dean, HoD, Senior Professor or a Research Scholar...they were all alike in their dress, mannerisms and bonhomie. The sole exception was GSS...he was always in a tie and rarely seen visiting canteens (he was a chain smoker and chain teasipper though...his 'boy' used to fetch his fags for him).
Next, Bengalis are too lazy to go to the trouble.
Next, there was no need for a Business Card even if you go to the Writer's Building. I once went there to meet the Health Secretary. The experience was a revelation. The Seat of Jyoti-da's formidable power was like our Old Building which then housed our Administrative Section once. You just go and say that you want to meet the Health Secretary and you are from IIT KGP. The armed guards will ask you to take the back gate because Jyoti-da is scheduled to arrive at the front gate. And the Health Secretary's room was like mine at KGP...no frills.
But I once tried to visited Shastri Bhavan in Delhi. The guy at the gate asked me for my card. I quit.
Anyway, in Hyderabad, everyone has a Business Card. Only difference is in its thickness, color printing, embossing and emblems that adorn it. The autowala and the electrical boy have cards as thin and flexible as carbon papers. The high-end chaps who have to visit Ministers print cards like the Platinum Credit Card of my son.
The other night at around 9 PM I went to our local pharmacy to get some Band-Aids. There was this lone Senior Citizen getting his cough-drops. He was curious about me and asked the usual questions like who, what, wherefore, why, how come...
As I answered all his queries, he opened his wallet and fished out his Business Card and offered it to me. I thanked him and pocketed it. And he was expecting that I would do the same. Since I never had any Business Card of mine, I was embarrassed. I could see that he was thinking that an eminent IIT Professor like me should be having a Gold Card but unwilling to do the honors. And while parting, he said that the ball in now in my court since I have his phone number and residential address...
I was then reminded of the Pickwick Papers incident where a refusal to reciprocate cards is a grievous offense:
************************************************************************************************************
"Sir!", said the Doctor, in an awful voice, producing a card, and retiring into an angle of the passage, "my name is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, sir--Ninety-seventh Regiment--Chatham Barracks--my card sir, my card." He would have added more, but his indignation choked him.
"Ah!" repiled the stranger, coolly, "Slammer--much obliged--polite attention--not ill now, Slammer--but when I am--knock you up."
"You--you are a shuffler sir," gasped the furious Doctor, "a poltroon--a coward--a liar--a--a--will nothing induce you to give me your card, sir?"
****************************************************************************************************************
The offense was so grave that it led to a well-orchestrated duel with pistols...
And Dickens wrote it two centuries back.
Listen to our Autocrat at Boston at around the same time:
**************************************************************************************************************
...Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age.
Old Age: Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you for some time, though I think you did not know me...I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you.
**************************************************************************************************************
I have a suspicion that the first thing John Gutenberg got printed on his invention were a set of ornamental Business Cards of himself: "JG Printers, Germany"
Not that we in Vedic India didn't have a formal way of introducing ourselves along with our Gotra, Rishis, Sutra, Veda and Name when we approach a Guru (like SDM). It is not a printed card, but a Sanskrit Verse I am supposed to recite with my hands closing my ears:
after which I am supposed to bend and touch my toes...since he may not like me to touch his feet till the Qualifiers are through...
SDM sure would have been bowled over...
===========================================================================
Two words I learned from my son soon after retiring from KGP and trying to settle down in Hyderabad are: (1) Business Card and (2) Front Office.
Not that I didn't know what objects they meant, but the very words were cute.
I asked him to show me his Business Card; and told him that I knew it as Visiting Card. But in Hyderabad no one apparently 'visits' anyone but for purposes of 'business'.
As far as I know, none of the 200 odd Professors at KGP went to the trouble of getting their business cards printed, at least till the 1990s when a handful of them had to travel to the corridors of power in Delhi for getting projects and funds. It was about that time when there appeared a new and thriving Section called: SRICC...decipher it yourself.
The lack of enthusiasm for making up one's Business Card is due to several factors.
First, Bengal was egalitarian (sorry, can't find a simpler word). Among the crowd of half a dozen canteen-troopers, there was no way you could locate the Dean, HoD, Senior Professor or a Research Scholar...they were all alike in their dress, mannerisms and bonhomie. The sole exception was GSS...he was always in a tie and rarely seen visiting canteens (he was a chain smoker and chain teasipper though...his 'boy' used to fetch his fags for him).
Next, Bengalis are too lazy to go to the trouble.
Next, there was no need for a Business Card even if you go to the Writer's Building. I once went there to meet the Health Secretary. The experience was a revelation. The Seat of Jyoti-da's formidable power was like our Old Building which then housed our Administrative Section once. You just go and say that you want to meet the Health Secretary and you are from IIT KGP. The armed guards will ask you to take the back gate because Jyoti-da is scheduled to arrive at the front gate. And the Health Secretary's room was like mine at KGP...no frills.
But I once tried to visited Shastri Bhavan in Delhi. The guy at the gate asked me for my card. I quit.
Anyway, in Hyderabad, everyone has a Business Card. Only difference is in its thickness, color printing, embossing and emblems that adorn it. The autowala and the electrical boy have cards as thin and flexible as carbon papers. The high-end chaps who have to visit Ministers print cards like the Platinum Credit Card of my son.
The other night at around 9 PM I went to our local pharmacy to get some Band-Aids. There was this lone Senior Citizen getting his cough-drops. He was curious about me and asked the usual questions like who, what, wherefore, why, how come...
As I answered all his queries, he opened his wallet and fished out his Business Card and offered it to me. I thanked him and pocketed it. And he was expecting that I would do the same. Since I never had any Business Card of mine, I was embarrassed. I could see that he was thinking that an eminent IIT Professor like me should be having a Gold Card but unwilling to do the honors. And while parting, he said that the ball in now in my court since I have his phone number and residential address...
I was then reminded of the Pickwick Papers incident where a refusal to reciprocate cards is a grievous offense:
************************************************************************************************************
"Sir!", said the Doctor, in an awful voice, producing a card, and retiring into an angle of the passage, "my name is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, sir--Ninety-seventh Regiment--Chatham Barracks--my card sir, my card." He would have added more, but his indignation choked him.
"Ah!" repiled the stranger, coolly, "Slammer--much obliged--polite attention--not ill now, Slammer--but when I am--knock you up."
"You--you are a shuffler sir," gasped the furious Doctor, "a poltroon--a coward--a liar--a--a--will nothing induce you to give me your card, sir?"
****************************************************************************************************************
The offense was so grave that it led to a well-orchestrated duel with pistols...
And Dickens wrote it two centuries back.
Listen to our Autocrat at Boston at around the same time:
**************************************************************************************************************
...Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age.
Old Age: Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you for some time, though I think you did not know me...I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you.
**************************************************************************************************************
I have a suspicion that the first thing John Gutenberg got printed on his invention were a set of ornamental Business Cards of himself: "JG Printers, Germany"
Not that we in Vedic India didn't have a formal way of introducing ourselves along with our Gotra, Rishis, Sutra, Veda and Name when we approach a Guru (like SDM). It is not a printed card, but a Sanskrit Verse I am supposed to recite with my hands closing my ears:
"Abhivaadaye Kashyapa Vatsaara Naidhruva Triyarsheya Pravaraanvita Kashyapa Gotrah Aaapasthambha Sutrah Yajusshakhaadhyaayee Prabhakara Sharman Ahambho Abhivaadaye!"
after which I am supposed to bend and touch my toes...since he may not like me to touch his feet till the Qualifiers are through...
SDM sure would have been bowled over...
===========================================================================
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Then & Now
===========================================================================
I count myself very lucky to have been witness to the most altered half-century of middle class India in history.
Here are some events:
************************************************************************************************************
1961:
My MD Physician Uncle at Vizagh won a 1-year scholarship to Johns Hopkins at Maryland. His international flight to the US was from Calcutta. He was leaving Vizagh by the Howrah Mail in First Class at 9 PM. I wanted to see him off and landed at the Railway Platform.
There was a huge crowd of around 50 mobbing him.They comprised his colleagues in the King George Hospital and the Medical College, his students, his VIP patients all with garlands and bouquets in their hands waiting for the arrival of the train. As soon as the train arrived, my Uncle was practically chaired into his coupe and was garlanded and bouqueted amid clicking flash bulbs of ancient cameramen. And as at last the train tooted out, he came out to the door and was practically in tears.
An year later when he returned, I visited him at his home and was among the dozen or so visitors all ears for his stories of how great the US was and how many skyscrapers he watched and the Disneyland.
As I was about to leave, he went in and brought two yellow hexagonal sticks of about a foot each and handed them to me as a precious gift. He said they were the latest invention known as 'ball pens'.
2011:
This May my son was traveling to the US on a 3-week business trip...his 12th or so.
His flight was at 4 AM and the cab arrived at midnight since our Greenfield Airport is 50 km away. My son shoved in his suitcase and laptop and I joined him in the rear seat to see him off at the Airport Gate. On my return trip home, the cabbie opened the rear door, but I preferred the front seat by his side as I always do when alone. And started chatting him up. The rule is never to ask any leading question but keep gabbing about myself and my family for the first ten minutes. He then opens up and talks about himself and his family for the next half hour.
He said that four of his cousins are in the Middle East and two in Paris. And he is traveling to Mecca on Haj later this year. Great story-teller.
While parting he said I was the craziest dad he ever saw in Hyderabad...no father ever travels at the dead of the night to see off his son at the Airport...foreign travel being such a routine affair nowadays.
I muttered that I am in a time-warp and paid the two-way-fare and a handsome tip.
***************************************************************************************************************
1961:
I was 'studying' at our University in Vizagh and one of my classmates, KLM, was stinking rich. His father 'owned' a college in his native town nearby.
One morning KLM came to the University from his home town driving a Fiat Millicento. The whole class went out to see the miracle. In a few minutes, our HoD came out to 'receive' his undergraduate student; and asked him if he could drive the Millicento for a spin...all he had was an old jalopy...maybe Morris Minor 2-door convertible.
2011:
The other day we had our Grihapravesh Ritual presided by a young dhoti-wearing pig-tailed Purohit. He arrived at midnight driving his Hero Honda bike traveling 50 km from the other end of Hyderabad. As I drove in my ancient Maruti 800 and was looking for a parking slot, he came down to me and asked me for the key of my car...he will park it in a suitable hole.
He made his point. I politely declined.
After pocketing a cool Rs 5000 as his fees and bidding me goodbye, he let me know that 18 of their folk live as a joint family in a palatial estate in the suburbs...all in the godly profession...and own several Maruti cars, but have booked a high-end SUV (Mahindra Bolero) this festival.
***********************************************************************************************************
1965:
I just joined IIT KGP. And was homesick during Puja holidays and wanted to travel to Vizagh by the Howrah-Madras Mail which had only a quota of two sleeper berths for KGP. And about 50 students and teachers vying for them.
All of us woke up at 4 AM and lined up in front of the only Reservation Window at the KGP Station. I was the 30th or so. The clerk arrived at 9 AM and there were fisticuffs and the first two got their berths. The other 48 were given carbon copies of 'telegrams' to Howrah, hand-written tediously by the clerk requesting for berths from the Howrah quota. It was midday by the time my turn came.
In due course, after several visits to the Station, the replies had arrived, and none of us got a single berth...all were gobbled up at Howrah itself.
I traveled by the General Compartment and lost all interest in travel then on.
2011
My son was staying in a Hotel at Fortworth falling off to sleep. He got a text message on his cell phone with Airtel International Roaming from a colleague of his who was stranded in his native village on the scenic East Coast of India. The village was too backward to have a cyber cafe with internet connection, but had full Airtel Signal all right.
The text message was a request to book a train ticket from Kakinada to Hyderabad and send him the PNR number on his cell phone.
It just took 2 minutes for my son to connect to the Indian Railways website to make the booking on his credit card and another half a minute to send the text message to the scenic village in Incredible India...
*************************************************************************************************************
From DC:
...The rectification document states: "The penetration of alien bourgeois and petty bourgeois values is manifested in a lavish lifestyle, building houses which are far above the minimum needs required, spending large amounts on weddings of children, organising festivities on a lavish scale etc.."
gps: Quite unlike our nouveau-proletariat Didi!!!
============================================================================
I count myself very lucky to have been witness to the most altered half-century of middle class India in history.
Here are some events:
************************************************************************************************************
1961:
My MD Physician Uncle at Vizagh won a 1-year scholarship to Johns Hopkins at Maryland. His international flight to the US was from Calcutta. He was leaving Vizagh by the Howrah Mail in First Class at 9 PM. I wanted to see him off and landed at the Railway Platform.
There was a huge crowd of around 50 mobbing him.They comprised his colleagues in the King George Hospital and the Medical College, his students, his VIP patients all with garlands and bouquets in their hands waiting for the arrival of the train. As soon as the train arrived, my Uncle was practically chaired into his coupe and was garlanded and bouqueted amid clicking flash bulbs of ancient cameramen. And as at last the train tooted out, he came out to the door and was practically in tears.
An year later when he returned, I visited him at his home and was among the dozen or so visitors all ears for his stories of how great the US was and how many skyscrapers he watched and the Disneyland.
As I was about to leave, he went in and brought two yellow hexagonal sticks of about a foot each and handed them to me as a precious gift. He said they were the latest invention known as 'ball pens'.
2011:
This May my son was traveling to the US on a 3-week business trip...his 12th or so.
His flight was at 4 AM and the cab arrived at midnight since our Greenfield Airport is 50 km away. My son shoved in his suitcase and laptop and I joined him in the rear seat to see him off at the Airport Gate. On my return trip home, the cabbie opened the rear door, but I preferred the front seat by his side as I always do when alone. And started chatting him up. The rule is never to ask any leading question but keep gabbing about myself and my family for the first ten minutes. He then opens up and talks about himself and his family for the next half hour.
He said that four of his cousins are in the Middle East and two in Paris. And he is traveling to Mecca on Haj later this year. Great story-teller.
While parting he said I was the craziest dad he ever saw in Hyderabad...no father ever travels at the dead of the night to see off his son at the Airport...foreign travel being such a routine affair nowadays.
I muttered that I am in a time-warp and paid the two-way-fare and a handsome tip.
***************************************************************************************************************
1961:
I was 'studying' at our University in Vizagh and one of my classmates, KLM, was stinking rich. His father 'owned' a college in his native town nearby.
One morning KLM came to the University from his home town driving a Fiat Millicento. The whole class went out to see the miracle. In a few minutes, our HoD came out to 'receive' his undergraduate student; and asked him if he could drive the Millicento for a spin...all he had was an old jalopy...maybe Morris Minor 2-door convertible.
2011:
The other day we had our Grihapravesh Ritual presided by a young dhoti-wearing pig-tailed Purohit. He arrived at midnight driving his Hero Honda bike traveling 50 km from the other end of Hyderabad. As I drove in my ancient Maruti 800 and was looking for a parking slot, he came down to me and asked me for the key of my car...he will park it in a suitable hole.
He made his point. I politely declined.
After pocketing a cool Rs 5000 as his fees and bidding me goodbye, he let me know that 18 of their folk live as a joint family in a palatial estate in the suburbs...all in the godly profession...and own several Maruti cars, but have booked a high-end SUV (Mahindra Bolero) this festival.
***********************************************************************************************************
1965:
I just joined IIT KGP. And was homesick during Puja holidays and wanted to travel to Vizagh by the Howrah-Madras Mail which had only a quota of two sleeper berths for KGP. And about 50 students and teachers vying for them.
All of us woke up at 4 AM and lined up in front of the only Reservation Window at the KGP Station. I was the 30th or so. The clerk arrived at 9 AM and there were fisticuffs and the first two got their berths. The other 48 were given carbon copies of 'telegrams' to Howrah, hand-written tediously by the clerk requesting for berths from the Howrah quota. It was midday by the time my turn came.
In due course, after several visits to the Station, the replies had arrived, and none of us got a single berth...all were gobbled up at Howrah itself.
I traveled by the General Compartment and lost all interest in travel then on.
2011
My son was staying in a Hotel at Fortworth falling off to sleep. He got a text message on his cell phone with Airtel International Roaming from a colleague of his who was stranded in his native village on the scenic East Coast of India. The village was too backward to have a cyber cafe with internet connection, but had full Airtel Signal all right.
The text message was a request to book a train ticket from Kakinada to Hyderabad and send him the PNR number on his cell phone.
It just took 2 minutes for my son to connect to the Indian Railways website to make the booking on his credit card and another half a minute to send the text message to the scenic village in Incredible India...
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Nouveau Bourgeoise
From DC:
Brinda's foreign holiday raise eyebrows in CPM
...The rectification document states: "The penetration of alien bourgeois and petty bourgeois values is manifested in a lavish lifestyle, building houses which are far above the minimum needs required, spending large amounts on weddings of children, organising festivities on a lavish scale etc.."
gps: Quite unlike our nouveau-proletariat Didi!!!
============================================================================
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Shortcut Rituals
===========================================================================
Had a hectic 24 hours watching lazily the Grihapravesh (Housewarming) rituals of our Nile Valley Apartment. The doers were my son, D-i-L and her parents, and of course Ishani.
Being the Ultimate Consumer, I enjoy Religion without being committed to it as much as I enjoy Science similarly. My attitude to both is: "Why take a chance?" It is said that Tenali Rama, a colorful character in the Court of Krishnadeva Raya of the Vijayanagara Empire, was offered the choice of two cups of payas by Goddess Kali, one would make him a poet and the other a wit; and he debated for a while and drank both on the sly.
Hinduism as I know it in our South Indian Brahmin households and temples has been a great survivor. The profound reason for this is two-fold:
Its rituals are flexible to suit the occasion and temperament; while its scriptures are rigid. They complement one another. There are priests and pundits and purohits ordained to supervise the rituals; but no preachers speaking the language of the lay customers. The Vedic Mantras are all in chaste Sanskrit chanted with officially prescribed rigor. 99% of the Customers don't know or care for their meanings. Vedic Sanskrit is called Deva Bhasha (the language of gods) and so out of bounds for everyone but Brahmins who are supposed to be greedless. The Customers are mostly rich landlords, merchants and kings who are supposed to perform the rituals to please the gods and increase their wealth and well-being with Brahmin priests as approved intermediaries.
So, everyone takes advantage of the flexibility and goes for shortcuts.
The first thing my son was asked to do before stepping into his own home is to break a red sweet pumpkin on the ground. If its innards turn out to be not bloody red, he is given a fistful of vermilion (kumkum) to smear it over the broken pumpkin to make it bloody. And he (or his priest) dips his hands into the juicy concoction and slap his hands on the walls of the house to disfigure it sufficiently to ward off the Evil Eye.
All the while the priest recites the relevant Vedic chants. I asked my son later on why he did what he did...I mean why break the poor pumpkin and smear kumkum over it. He didn't know nor did he care. Vedas were not for vegetarians...vegetarianism came to India later with Buddhism and Jainism, I am told. Most Vedic rituals start with sacrificing a goat if not a bigger animal and later eat it. And partake a cup or two of Soma (it gives the needed high).
But since we are strict and timid vegetarians, we can't bring a goat and do the needful...so the pumpkin simulator...but with goaty chants. And since we are also not social drinkers, we have substitute drinks that cheer but not inebriate.
When I lost my Father about 2 decades ago, I performed all the 13 day-rituals since my Father (unlike me) was a Believer in Heaven and Hell up there. On the tenth day there was this ritual when certain unkind practices were to be gone through. My Mother, being the new widow was supposed to be forthwith deprived of wearing the earlier symbols of her happy marital status like the vermilion dot (bindi) on her forehead, bangles and necklace bearing the gold coins she acquired on her wedding day 60 years ago.
So far so good...she gladly okayed the rituals accompanied by appropriate mantras. But there was one more nasty ritual that demanded that she be tonsured and no longer wear her hair. This practice is a later interpolation. My grandmothers on both sides acquiesced. But that was in the dark ages. By the time my Father died, this practice was happily given the go-by, but the priest would be afraid to give it up. So, he shoved a kushaa (sharp grass) reed into my hands, asked me to get up and go to my Mother, and sweep the reed over her hair in public in mock tonsure. I hated it but she insisted...
During Ganesh Puja in our households, we are supposed to worship Ganeshjee, who has an elephant's head over a human torso and so is fond of leaves and vegetables in the forest, placing 21 species of leaves on his idol. But it is nowadays impossible to get hold of all those 21 rather exotic leaves. But mantras mention them and are chanted religiously. So, the approved shortcut is to sprinkle colored rice as a substitute for the unavailable varieties of leaves.
And it goes on happily for everyone concerned. And if any question is raised, the standard answer is that it is the spirit but not the letter that is important.
And I agree.
Sanskrit chants have such magic sound values that the very uttering and hearing them makes the occasion holy.
And Sanskrit is intentionally a 'dead' language not spoken by the lay public.
If you want an 'unholy' language that is truly democratic...speak English or rather Hinglish...I have to quit blogging for the night now since there is a 'piece' by my literary girl friend in DC waiting for me to read...you know who...the Marathi lady with Shivajee in her blood who married a Bengali gent with Shakti in his.
***************************************************************************************************************
DC Banner, Page 8 top:
"Don't agree with Murthy on slump in the quality of education in IITs, says Sibal"
============================================================================
Had a hectic 24 hours watching lazily the Grihapravesh (Housewarming) rituals of our Nile Valley Apartment. The doers were my son, D-i-L and her parents, and of course Ishani.
Being the Ultimate Consumer, I enjoy Religion without being committed to it as much as I enjoy Science similarly. My attitude to both is: "Why take a chance?" It is said that Tenali Rama, a colorful character in the Court of Krishnadeva Raya of the Vijayanagara Empire, was offered the choice of two cups of payas by Goddess Kali, one would make him a poet and the other a wit; and he debated for a while and drank both on the sly.
Hinduism as I know it in our South Indian Brahmin households and temples has been a great survivor. The profound reason for this is two-fold:
Its rituals are flexible to suit the occasion and temperament; while its scriptures are rigid. They complement one another. There are priests and pundits and purohits ordained to supervise the rituals; but no preachers speaking the language of the lay customers. The Vedic Mantras are all in chaste Sanskrit chanted with officially prescribed rigor. 99% of the Customers don't know or care for their meanings. Vedic Sanskrit is called Deva Bhasha (the language of gods) and so out of bounds for everyone but Brahmins who are supposed to be greedless. The Customers are mostly rich landlords, merchants and kings who are supposed to perform the rituals to please the gods and increase their wealth and well-being with Brahmin priests as approved intermediaries.
So, everyone takes advantage of the flexibility and goes for shortcuts.
The first thing my son was asked to do before stepping into his own home is to break a red sweet pumpkin on the ground. If its innards turn out to be not bloody red, he is given a fistful of vermilion (kumkum) to smear it over the broken pumpkin to make it bloody. And he (or his priest) dips his hands into the juicy concoction and slap his hands on the walls of the house to disfigure it sufficiently to ward off the Evil Eye.
All the while the priest recites the relevant Vedic chants. I asked my son later on why he did what he did...I mean why break the poor pumpkin and smear kumkum over it. He didn't know nor did he care. Vedas were not for vegetarians...vegetarianism came to India later with Buddhism and Jainism, I am told. Most Vedic rituals start with sacrificing a goat if not a bigger animal and later eat it. And partake a cup or two of Soma (it gives the needed high).
But since we are strict and timid vegetarians, we can't bring a goat and do the needful...so the pumpkin simulator...but with goaty chants. And since we are also not social drinkers, we have substitute drinks that cheer but not inebriate.
When I lost my Father about 2 decades ago, I performed all the 13 day-rituals since my Father (unlike me) was a Believer in Heaven and Hell up there. On the tenth day there was this ritual when certain unkind practices were to be gone through. My Mother, being the new widow was supposed to be forthwith deprived of wearing the earlier symbols of her happy marital status like the vermilion dot (bindi) on her forehead, bangles and necklace bearing the gold coins she acquired on her wedding day 60 years ago.
So far so good...she gladly okayed the rituals accompanied by appropriate mantras. But there was one more nasty ritual that demanded that she be tonsured and no longer wear her hair. This practice is a later interpolation. My grandmothers on both sides acquiesced. But that was in the dark ages. By the time my Father died, this practice was happily given the go-by, but the priest would be afraid to give it up. So, he shoved a kushaa (sharp grass) reed into my hands, asked me to get up and go to my Mother, and sweep the reed over her hair in public in mock tonsure. I hated it but she insisted...
During Ganesh Puja in our households, we are supposed to worship Ganeshjee, who has an elephant's head over a human torso and so is fond of leaves and vegetables in the forest, placing 21 species of leaves on his idol. But it is nowadays impossible to get hold of all those 21 rather exotic leaves. But mantras mention them and are chanted religiously. So, the approved shortcut is to sprinkle colored rice as a substitute for the unavailable varieties of leaves.
And it goes on happily for everyone concerned. And if any question is raised, the standard answer is that it is the spirit but not the letter that is important.
And I agree.
Sanskrit chants have such magic sound values that the very uttering and hearing them makes the occasion holy.
And Sanskrit is intentionally a 'dead' language not spoken by the lay public.
If you want an 'unholy' language that is truly democratic...speak English or rather Hinglish...I have to quit blogging for the night now since there is a 'piece' by my literary girl friend in DC waiting for me to read...you know who...the Marathi lady with Shivajee in her blood who married a Bengali gent with Shakti in his.
***************************************************************************************************************
Last Word
DC Banner, Page 8 top:
"Don't agree with Murthy on slump in the quality of education in IITs, says Sibal"
============================================================================
Friday, October 7, 2011
Milton to Auden
=========================================================================
Pratik writes:
Dear gps,
`Milton to Auden, Basudeb Ghosh and his deep depression
reminds me of a Saturday Telegraph article by Khushwant Singh,
where he quoted Justin Richardson's line in "Take Heart, Illiterate!"-
"For years a secret shame destroyed my peace -
I had not read Eliot, Auden or MacNeice;
But then I had a thought that brought me hope-
Neither had Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Pope"
==========================================================================
Pratik writes:
Dear gps,
`Milton to Auden, Basudeb Ghosh and his deep depression
reminds me of a Saturday Telegraph article by Khushwant Singh,
where he quoted Justin Richardson's line in "Take Heart, Illiterate!"-
"For years a secret shame destroyed my peace -
I had not read Eliot, Auden or MacNeice;
But then I had a thought that brought me hope-
Neither had Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Pope"
==========================================================================
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Saswat Clarifies
=======================================================================
I thank Saswat for the following clarification:
*******************************************************************************************************
gps:
The issue is exceedingly complex and doesn't brook any generalization.
I think I have covered the ground in earlier blogs.
As I said before, when I joined IIT KGP in 1965, I felt that it was a little elite and that the infrastructure there could easily have catered to double or triple the number of students. I keenly felt that I for one was vastly underutilized.
For many decades, the intake strength stayed close to 250. Now it is around 1250 I believe and is going up.
In 1965, very few in AP heard of IITs. About half a century later, most of the top ranks in IIT JEE are grabbed by AP students. The reason is that AP doesn't have many industries and parents spend enormous time and money on the 'education' of their kids via Coaching Institutions.
And there is an explosion of the number of IITs.
The demography of the nation has drastically changed. Most of the IIT kids then were rather well off and came from better quality schools. This is no longer true now. Many kids of the 'hoi polloi' find themselves in the IITs. And many do well too.
As for me, I have a tunnel vision. I taught Physics for first and second year B Techs and do no know how they shaped up later. I don't see any vast difference in the average quality, interest and commitment of the IITians. The 12-strong Tutorial class of 1965 gave me as much pleasure as the 350-strong 2004 class.
After shifting to Hyderabad, I was curious about the kids in the IIT JEE Coaching Institutions here. I just took one lecture to see how it goes. There were about 50 students in that class room. I talked to them for an hour on a favorite topic of mine: Millman's Theorem and its Applications in Circuit Analysis. The joy I got was no different than when I taught the same topic in 1966 to the 'elite' students and to the Preparatory Class (weaker students) in 2004 just before I left KGP . There was no difference in the general IQ levels or interest.
The whole thing has an irreversible momentum of its own. The JEE question paper of 1965 is about the standard of the present day Class X. Syllabus is constantly being upgraded.
Whichever format you innovate, the Coaching Institutions will adapt to that...you can't legislate them out. They are mostly money-making affairs; but so are Infosys, Wipro, TCS, IBM, Microsoft and the whole lot.
N. Murthy knows about the run-of-the-mill IIT end-product and he maybe right. The average fresher nowadays is much poorer and is unlikely to have read Maugham and Poe unlike in 1965. And perhaps his communication skills are no match.
The difference is in demography.
On the whole I see no dilution in standards of IITs.
But I may be wrong because I dealt with only freshers and sophomores in B Tech. As for the Phy UGs, they are as good as they ever came...
=========================================================================
I thank Saswat for the following clarification:
"Narayana Murthy was basically saying that because of the enormous stress IITJEE puts on +2 students, and because of the massive amount of time +2 students put in coaching classes, the typical IIT student nowadays is someone who has been very very narrowly prepared to just clear the IITJEE. This is true! He was saying that back in the days, when this stress was less, students were more "well rounded" (such as Arjun Malhotra). So he was pointing to the need for an overhaul of the IITJEE structure.
I agree with this. Later IIT KGP diro also repeated the same argument when many of the younger IITians were protesting that the JEE should not be changed drastically in its structure.
You have seen entire generations of IIT students - starting from Arjun Malhotra to the very recent kids. Did you feel that there was this gradual change in the quality?"
gps:
The issue is exceedingly complex and doesn't brook any generalization.
I think I have covered the ground in earlier blogs.
As I said before, when I joined IIT KGP in 1965, I felt that it was a little elite and that the infrastructure there could easily have catered to double or triple the number of students. I keenly felt that I for one was vastly underutilized.
For many decades, the intake strength stayed close to 250. Now it is around 1250 I believe and is going up.
In 1965, very few in AP heard of IITs. About half a century later, most of the top ranks in IIT JEE are grabbed by AP students. The reason is that AP doesn't have many industries and parents spend enormous time and money on the 'education' of their kids via Coaching Institutions.
And there is an explosion of the number of IITs.
The demography of the nation has drastically changed. Most of the IIT kids then were rather well off and came from better quality schools. This is no longer true now. Many kids of the 'hoi polloi' find themselves in the IITs. And many do well too.
As for me, I have a tunnel vision. I taught Physics for first and second year B Techs and do no know how they shaped up later. I don't see any vast difference in the average quality, interest and commitment of the IITians. The 12-strong Tutorial class of 1965 gave me as much pleasure as the 350-strong 2004 class.
After shifting to Hyderabad, I was curious about the kids in the IIT JEE Coaching Institutions here. I just took one lecture to see how it goes. There were about 50 students in that class room. I talked to them for an hour on a favorite topic of mine: Millman's Theorem and its Applications in Circuit Analysis. The joy I got was no different than when I taught the same topic in 1966 to the 'elite' students and to the Preparatory Class (weaker students) in 2004 just before I left KGP . There was no difference in the general IQ levels or interest.
The whole thing has an irreversible momentum of its own. The JEE question paper of 1965 is about the standard of the present day Class X. Syllabus is constantly being upgraded.
Whichever format you innovate, the Coaching Institutions will adapt to that...you can't legislate them out. They are mostly money-making affairs; but so are Infosys, Wipro, TCS, IBM, Microsoft and the whole lot.
N. Murthy knows about the run-of-the-mill IIT end-product and he maybe right. The average fresher nowadays is much poorer and is unlikely to have read Maugham and Poe unlike in 1965. And perhaps his communication skills are no match.
The difference is in demography.
On the whole I see no dilution in standards of IITs.
But I may be wrong because I dealt with only freshers and sophomores in B Tech. As for the Phy UGs, they are as good as they ever came...
=========================================================================
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