PART TWO – FURTHER A-FIELD
Just take me to church on time (1981)
The snow was unrelenting. But they (my family back home) had already set the date, according to a Chinese belief. I remember telling the pastor on the phone – “We had to get married in a hurry” and there was a brief silence at the other end. Grandma had passed on and the belief was that anything auspicious should not happen after 100 days. Everyone was so encouraging that the wedding will go ahead, snowstorm or tornado. Then up till the day itself, the snow abated and the sun shone. What a window because the heavy snow continued the day after the wedding. The people at the lab decided to share the ride avoiding the messy snow-ploughed streets. I forgot his name, but let me call him Ralph. He was the anything-is-ok guy who will drive the four ladies. They piled in with their heavy coats and piled out near the church. But it had ceased to function as a church and did not appear like one. Now ask any groom what they remember of their wedding many will tell you that it went like a blur. Many said they were glad they came. But Ralph didn’t make it. The ladies in the car forgot to tell him which building when he proceeded to park.
Bicycle fling (1980)
It was an impulse. There was the bicycle and there was the open park in the arboretum, inviting. And I was distressed to take a break. Soon I was free-wheeling so fast, sans helmet, sans knee-guard and sans caution. All I could remember clearly soon afterwards was that my face was acting like a brake pad. It wasn’t for long when I sat on the path-side trying to look through blood streaming down the right eyelid. “Are you OK?” asked a young jogger. “OK I guess, but I need my spectacles”, I replied stunned. Soon a female jogger joined him and helped gather the bicycle and the mangled spectacle. “We have to do something about that gush of blood – could you spare your T-shirt which is drier? “, he asked her. Of course not was her reply and he proceeded to bind my head with his sweaty shirt, as mine was filled with dirt. They said they will deliver my bicycle to the house, as I burped my thanks. Later an ambulance came and I was soon lying on a hospital sheet. While waiting a familiar face loomed over me – it was Jeff, my room-mate, interning at the hospital. Can you count slowing backwards from 100, he asked and I succeeded. I managed to follow his finger with my right eye too. “Seem to have normal brain function”, he quipped to the attending physician.
He was a portly person with kindly eyes although I would not be able to recognise him through his face mask. “Well, we are going to do some plastic repair of your right eyelid, which is almost torn off by the spectacle frame. Also some suture on your lips – and oh, you lucky fella not only your right eye escaped the broken glasses – I happen to be a dentist before, and so I may be able to do something about that broken tooth too.” And as he proceeded to do his work, he softly hummed the tune “Nearer my God to you” under his breath. While this was going on, I could hear two people walked into the room, one apparently an important visitor. “Here, we’re doing some facial work on that fella who took a fling off his bicycle,” the supervising physician said pointing in my direction. I remember thinking to myself that I hope not to remember that event again, when there was a click. “You will not forget this,” Jeff beamed, his camera in his hand.
The avuncular civil servant (July 2001)
We haven’t been driving in North America for years. So long that our driving licenses became obsolete. So one of the first things we did when starting our sabbaticals was to head for the Boston Office of Vehicle Licensing and Transportation. It was a hot afternoon. Like most government offices we entered a stuffy room, thick with people waiting for a few female clerks, chatting among themselves oblivion to the teething tempers in queue. I tried not to overhear their banter about cupcakes and colored braids and patiently waited for my number. I look up to a squarely build black gentleman serving me, looking down and the air of bureaucracy seemed heavy around him. What a most boring and depressed place to be, and to face a bureaucrat. What happened next caught me off-guard. He beamed and said dead-panned, “Are you superstitious?” Unprepared, I blurted out something inaudible. Then he explained that the number he will assign for my license has a pattern that some people might take offence. “Not at all!”, I smiled bemused. Then with a deft hand movement, some stampings and swishing of papers he send me packing with a lilt in my walk, license in my hand. Why cannot the little people in the world sitting at front desks facing ordinary folks practice a little avant-garde once in a while?
Dog Show (2000)
We were both delirious when we see so many species of canines congregating together. You see we both love dogs – especially so when we were away from our pack while travelling. In the small American town, women tugging at their look-alike were so colorfully dressed and the men, smart in their outdoor sport-jackets leading their equally smart-looking four-legged pals. We were admiring and looking out for our breed, when the loudspeaker crackled on and a gruff voice announced officiously: “Will all the bitches please leave the field so that the males can start their competition?”
Oriental dinner (1980)
Somehow it is natural and instinctive for people of the same cultural group in a foreign country to dine together. We were freshly graduated then and we had just filled ourselves with the most delectable Chinese dishes that can be cooked at home in America. All of a sudden I was wracked with stomach pains. Never been used to any but my own toilet I needled my wife to hurry home. But you know – goodbyes go niggardly – from the dining room, to the living room, to the landing, conversations just dragged. When I finally got into my car I drove like the wind. Soon enough the sound of a siren peeved me to stop. The officer walked over deliberately and motioned with a sweep of his hand. “Sir you were going at 47 in a 30 mile per hour zone.” Sheepishly I bowed my head while he proceeded to write a citation. “May I say something?” I carped out in a strained voice. He gave me a cold stare when I proffered the excuse. “I’m not well, had a stomach-ache and was rushing home.” After a second passed, he pointed to the hospital building ahead and drawled: “If you are sick you go there – not drive over the speed limit and endanger others!” I quickly retrieved my license from his opened gloved hand and almost crawled home that night. The pain was gone.
Left hand right hand (1971)
How about trying your hand at cooking, if you’ve never cooked? One of the things you’d learn quickly is that the sequence of action can make or break a meal. One friend learned the hot lesson of cracking an egg nearer to the boiling oil than making a scalding splash. Take the case of my friend who started when he had to cook as a poor student. He would peel the prawn while the pan is heated and proceeded to drop them into the sizzling oil. Once in a while the shell went into the oil and the peeled prawn into the dustbin. Another time a friend, returning from groceries rushed into the house to retrieve the garbage when the collection truck arrived. Guess what went into the ever-rushing truck and what he took back into the house? Can you imagine going through a garbage truck trying to retrieve a camera that he placed in the grocery bag? Or the case of my friend driving the US Interstate for the first time, so eager to try his friend’s Porche in exchange for the rental car he was driving. In those days there were no such gadgets as cell-phones that you can correct errors of haste in situ. So keen was he to get into the faster car that he automatically pocketed the rental car-keys, leaving the Porche owner fuming by the wayside. Or the classic story of a couple who had reached the stage of their marriage that they hardly talk, even while going on a long car journey together. She would lie, out of sight, sleeping in the back-seats and he would do the monotonous task of a long drive, broken perhaps by the occasional toilet stops. One time at such a stop, she decided to answer nature’s call too, without telling the driver, who will notice the missing passenger only at journey’s end. Nowadays a mobile device such as a cell-phone would fix the situation quickly but woe-betide the couple who only communicate by the cell-phone or by email.
Quid Pro Quo?
Perhaps psychologists can explain why we often dream unsolvable puzzles, which are so obvious the moment we awake. I have dreamed it many times, often saying to myself that I have dreamed such a problem before, while in the dream! The most numerous retake is being lost at a familiar location, where I kept telling myself that I know my way to the destination, but kept going round in circles. And every step seemed to be always going uphill, even when walking in a circle, making the knees tired to collapsing. On one such seemingly interminable walk I was so exhausted and sleepy that I decided to sit down and take a nap. I actually dreamt that I was asleep, but I also knew that it was unsafe to fall asleep in the open, especially when I had a wad of dollar-notes in my wallet. Sure enough when I awoke, my wallet was gone. But wait – nearby sat provocatively was an alluring young girl, whom I knew instantly to be the thief. I knew that I could never get my money back for all it’s worth and my morose was only lifted when I actually awoke.
I am who he is not (Jan 1978)
Often what is in a name depends on who your namesake is. For four years I worked for the Army and had wanted badly to get out and see the other side of the world. I was on contract and when the time eventually came I had applied for a student visa to do postgraduate work in the US. A senior official of the government at that time, equivalent to the rank of Assistant Secretary of the Army share my family name. So when I appeared at the US Customs and Immigration after a grueling 27 hour flight, the officer asked to my incredulity, why would a diplomat be becoming a student at a university. I had not known from Adams what a diplomatic visa was, but was grateful that I could continue my quest without much of a fuss. Indeed I had no use of the visa throughout my status as a student – except for one small trip I made across the Canadian border during one Spring Break. My car passenger had brought along some possibly taxable gifts for her friends and we all had to duly surrender our passports. Not long later they were returned with a smart salute from the officers. It could be that my “diplomatic” status saved the day for us, but I had no guile in it – indeed I was told I could buy much more goods tax-free if I wanted to, although I doubt that is the case. Now who would like to guess what visa my Assistant Army Secretary got for his travels?
Trespassers will be persecuted (1979)
Being non-native speakers of English it was sometimes quite common for us to mix up our words when growing up. Other times it was just the sheer lapse of pronunciation. Take the case of the welcome dinner my American host family gave to international students at Thanksgiving. After quite a substantial entrée one Chinese girl tried to say “Thank you, I’ve enough” when seconds were passed around. To which the gracious hostess replied, “My goodness, only the second dish and you’re in love!” On another occasion, a Japanese hostess in Singapore was awaiting guests when the maid brought in the sushi to the table. “Fry! Fry!” she said emphatically, waving her hands this and that before proceeding to close the windows to prevent more flies entering. The maid summarily brought it back to the kitchen and brought the sushi back later, fried to the crisp. Then perhaps the caption above might apply after all. That is if you live in a country where trespassing into the national religion is forbidden, at pain of death. Maybe now the Land Authority can find some use of the discarded signs.
Wanted: Alive than Dead (Mar 2011)
Recently it was reported that they found Asian’s unicorn in Vietnam. Had it remained alive meaningful tests could have revealed more of how the saola specie came about as well as its preferred food and reproductive behavior. Though that heritage seems lost to humankind it is hard to imagine how staple food such as venison could one day be as wanted as the dodo. Livestock today is valued more dead than alive, the meat by-products used to the optimum, otherwise farmers would have ceased to exist long ago. It is interesting to think than mankind in exploiting the animal kingdom’s basic need to reproduce has made the feedstock industry as widespread as it is today. But we can find exceptions – such as the cash-cow and the egg-producing hens. To me such symbiosis appears more attractive – the birth of an Angus, Hostein or Hereford or a swine litter is still a miracle, irreproducible in the lab.
Chocolate zebra(2015)
Fortunately there were no lurking crocodiles as the foal thrashed through knee deep in brown mud. The herd has since left for greener pastures on the African savanna leaving the young zebra’s plaintive bleating. After jumping desperately mud coated it completely brown. Soon it broke into firm ground but only an elephant nearby appear like it’s mother. But it’s advance was rejected, huge ears flapping and trunk trashing with hideous screams. But where is my tribe? Fortunately some time later the herd returned as the foal leaped joyfully towards it’s seniors. But they ran from him as he was not the color of zebras. Dejected it could only straddle along. Until the rainy showers.
Moral Progress and Animal treatment (1987)
When Gandhi referred to the greatness of a nation he was probably thinking mainly of maltreatment and abandonment of animals. We could, of course go further than that. Once while jogging in the countryside I felt a slap on my head from a furry wing. Thinking that it was just an accident, I continue running until I felt a scratch on my back. Although no blood was drawn I could see the kite circling above on its territorial watch, thinking perhaps that I was a competing mate. Other instances take on a less aggressive stance – perhaps more effective for a more well-to-do society. In my backyard we once espied a busy mother building a nest on a lowly branch. It was only at night that she would retreat there and flew off routinely in the morning to gather more material. Soon we could see a brood of twin chicks, ever so ravenous for morsels from the returning parent. One shake of the branch and two quivering heads popped out, beaks wide opened. We could hardly wait for the day of first flight. Alas it could not come at a worse time for one – for the mommy dog was too quick for the floundering nestling.
Careful where da wind blows (1993)
Few people dread the prospect of a nature call – until they start travelling to far flung places. For the American lady who was told by the raft operator on a remote India river that “all India is the toilet”, sometimes even a well constructed toilet up in the mountains can be an experience to remember. During our trek to the Nepal foothills we chanced upon one perched over a ravine. The steep drop to the river was the sanitation system. No problem – remote as it is. However, right in the midst of Nature’s call a gush of wind may be funnelled back to the toilet from the ravine below. You can imagine what a spray that can produce – upwards!
In the early days of China’s development the subject of toilets have turned many a genteel traveler off. Imagine a long bus ride to the North-West Sin-Xiang area. Out in the wind farms only the bus divides the men’s rooms from the ladies’. You can hardly hide by squatting between the dunes. Also finding the wind direction first would be a wise thing to do. But travelling by China’s trains is luxurious by comparison – the toilet outlet goes onto the tracks and the rule is not to use them when the train is stationary. Why because the train operator might be caught polluting the environment (just a guess)?
In the early days of public transportation all Singapore buses moved with opened windows, without air-conditioning. Public behavior was also not so well regulated – there were no “Fine for spitting” signs. Therefore when we got up a bus we had to choose our seats in the rear of the bus carefully – watching where the wind blows…
Tipperary Deeperary Creeperary(1960s?)
I met this guy – let’s call him EB, at a barbecue. Along with his old cronies the slap-happy jokes turned to ghosts. In the old days, civil servants seeking promotions like EB had to take remedial lessons in Malay. Such classes can be quite relaxed, with senior civil servants trading garbs with the teacher. One time, everyone in the class starting deriding Che’gu (teacher) for insisting that Pontianak (a Malay ghost) exist. The ridicule ended up in a challenge – class will meet Che’gu at a Malay cemetery at midnight. Everyone turned up, seated around a fire, Boy Scout style. Che’gu had only one strict proviso – no one is to talk or move at or around 3am. When he had finished his incantations the incense were left to burn till the witching hour. Boredom had already set in then and some had started to fidget, except EB. He had noticed his friend sitting opposite in the circle had suddenly turned blanch, with his hand to his mouth suppressing an utterance. But no one moved or talked and the event passed quietly till dawn. Che’gu then told everyone that it is imperative to wash and clean their faces in the toilets. Someone said it was a sheer waste of time sitting up whole night for nothing.
At the wash area EB approached his friend who sat opposite why he had turned pale. “Didn’t you notice?”, he stammered. “Right behind you there was a thin figure, twice taller than the trees, white robed and floating around your back. I could not even shout for fear!” EB would not have noticed, as it was strictly forbidden to move his head.
But then no one else saw it.
As a young Boy Scout recruit what a thrill it was when mother allowed me to join in the first night march. In those days the MacRitchie reservoir was not so well developed – the foot paths were crowded by brushes and the night was really pitch dark. We recruits though scared of whatever animals there may be around found safety in numbers, huddled together. Then the section leaders decided to play a prank on the Scout-Master. Quietly they passed the word to stop still, while the Scout-Master continued unaware. After some tense moments we saw someone approaching us in the pale light. Frankly, some of us recruits were more terrified of the pale figure quietly waving his arms in the darkness. But the excitement chased all sleep from me and in the early dawn, I was the first to espy a wild boar at the edge of the reservoir.
Ghost fingers (July 2011)
She was warned to heed her steps when visiting her ancestor’s grave. But it was a hot and musky day of the visit. She had a light colored blouse on and the travel of the event was a full day’s undertaking. After fulfilling her piety she went home alone to meet her mother who was not with her. Her mother soon realized there was a smudge on her left shoulder. Examining it closely she saw that it was the imprint of someone’s left hand – all five fingerprints clearly marked on her white blouse. “Nobody touched me”, she recalled – in fact she had not met anybody at all throughout the visit to her grandfathers tomb. And she had not stepped on anything unusual except her grandparent’s gravestones.
Attempts to wash off the stains were in vain – somehow the mark was permanently indelible. It was as if someone had stood on her right side, placed a left arm over her and grabbed onto her left shoulder with such force for such an imprint to take hold. But she swore that no one had once even come close to her during the visit to the tomb.
Thanksgiving Rain (July 2011)
Two weeks of gruelling, sticky hot climate can leave you dazed with broken sleep. No amount of wishing could deliver you from the cauldron’s blast except that it is released from the heavens. It came last night in a deluge, with such severity that you can almost imagine a sizzling, like cold water over a hot plate. The cooled planet, responded like a satisfied withered plant, recovering, slowly at first, in the windless night. Then from an almost imperceptible crescendo of water crashing on the roof culminated in a burst of song. Thank God for rain as it chases away the lingering heat – a small but vital beginning for the spirit of thankfulness, absent in a society greedy for any winning points in life and ignoring whatever that is already in our favor.
Hiroko’s gift (June 2017)
I chanced on TV the story about an elderly Japanese lady, who for a decade gave away postcards she made with encouraging words for anyone who will choose to take them. She’ll sit on the chilly castle ground and call to tourists and strangers to come view the words on the pictures she drew on the cards. Insisting only for a handshake, she’ll wish the takers the best as they leave. One time a 90-year granny, having heard of her made the long journey from the orchard where she farms citrus fruits. In grateful return for the card she gave her a luscious fruit which she and her husband had recently harvested. Hiroko took the prime fruit home where she proceeded to draw and color its brilliant orange-yellow skin accompanied by a phrase of hope and strength. “So much joy to receive and pass it along to someone who might need it”.
Going where no man dare imagine (Oct 2014)
Fifty six years after its creation the Starship Enterprise of today is still without its two enabling technologies – warp and tracker beams. We know more about outer space today based mainly on electromagnetic and subatomic particle wave telemetry but little of the weird and flamboyant life forms encountered by captains Kirk or Picard. So far signals received from our remote-sensing exo-planetary probes tell us that we are still alone. Astrobiologists struggle to justify their profession. Strangely or not, imagination of the weird and bizarre is more rife from the little we know than from the largely unknown. Extrapolation from the basics of modern physics in the film odyssey is laughable. The advanced medicine practiced in the Starship series appear like child-play. But if anything these ignite the imagination of the man-in-the-street. It has been said that finding worm-holes and time-gateways to transcend time-space is almost statistically non-existent and creating the conditions for it is still in the domain of pipe-dreams. However there is still lots of space, and more recently, accelerating deep space boundaries. Probably not traverse-able by Enterprise – its structure alone defy all principles of dynamic stability, even when traveling at subsonic speeds in vacuum. Humankind is still bound to a time-based molecular form. And that is where the conundrum of space-time still defeats our curiosity of going where no man has gone before.
Wonder no more (2016)
“Twinkle twinkle little star” :- Stars don’t twinkle – the light reflected off them somehow got interrupted on their way to our eyes. Only because they are so far away that we can look directly at them, clearly at night because the light gets more focused then. They may appear little but they are not small. It’ll be impossible to look directly at our parent star – the sun.
“How I wonder what you are”:- Well wonder no more! Ever since Galileo pointed his telescope in January 1610 discovering the moons of Jupiter we have come to know a lot more about stars and extra terrestrial bodies. Indeed the composer of this lullaby in 1806 would be able to find out so much about them from the illustrious English astronomers at that time.
“Up above the world so high…” When we gaze to identify the heavenly bodies, properly with a telescope there is no “up” or “down”. Stars are identified relative to each other and well established landmark stars form sectors in the visible universe from our terrestrial locations – the world.
“Like a diamond in the sky…” Really? Maybe it was a more intelligent guess than the author intended. Over the past 500 years we have collected much information about the content of different planets, exo-planets and stars. Among samples collected from comets and shooting star rocks silicon is one of the candidates. But diamonds? Maybe. But if so we’ll be getting into something big. The astrobiologists would be thrilled with the hint that a carbonaceous material comes from the stars. You see, as curious as the little kiddies learning this song Mankind would be exhilarated to find another earth-like habitation for the future of earthlings once our home star the Sun, burns out.
Beyond beholding (Jan 2018)
The so-called Cullinand diamond at 3106 carats being the 5th biggest ever, was found in South Africa. So dazzling was it that the cutter fainted under pressure. Can anything so overwhelming be found in a rock? Think of how humble one starts in life. Nobody will bother to dig you out of a rock. Unless you’re the product of eons of pressure and purification unknown and hidden.
A leaf on Die Moldau (New Year’s Eve 2011)
I grew up on a house behind the hills. They can hardly be called hills – compared to mountains elsewhere maybe they are better called hillocks. Ever so often before leaving for work I would stroll up to the top of one, where in ancient times was once the bottom of an ocean, as you can still pick shale and shells at some places. There my imagination ran wild. I became a leaf – tiny enough to float on rivers and waves without sinking or breaking. Here is my story…as told by Bedrich Smetana on Vlatava: (the numbers in the text are durations from the H. Von Karajan’s conducting of the Berlin Philharmonic)
A drop of dew, glistening in the morning sun, ever so slowly grows bigger and finally runs down a branch knocking me off into the little stream (0.39). It is hardly a stream – tiny now, but with the next drop it will grow that much bigger and jostle me downward. Slowly, I inch along by gravity, to be caught occasionally by a blade of grass, a small pebble or just earth, but jauntily downwards. The flow is minuscule but unabated and before long, I will be cruising along a small rivulet of shallow cold spring flow, so shallow that I can feel the earth as I inch along (1.09). Still a rivulet but growing, but I can espy another nearby, also flowing parallel for now, and I can see us joining somewhere downstream. On and on we skid along,
with bend branches almost brushing me off-course, and occasional splash of purple, blue and white flora playfully thrusting its petals into my face in mischief (1.56). Then the bulrushes swaying in the wind, with butterflies and other insects of myriad colors hovering peer at me from every corner. Hidden beneath water toads croak rhythmically. With regularity the moss clumps at the side looms up giving a bump to my ride. I now toss and turn as the stream widens and water colder. Then all of a sudden I am pushed gently aside as the other stream joins and I shoot forward sliding to and fro in the confluence flow (2.42). The slipstream propels me like skiing downhill – twisting and winding left and right (2.55). And the almost imperceptible sound of water rushing underneath (3.24) – not loud now but a drone as I feel the undercurrent pushes me down and up, away from the earth underneath (3.59). The current is stronger now – but all this time it comes in cycles of strength – it bursts forth and then quickly ebbs away gracefully and powerfully. Now the pace quickens and the sauntering left and right loops bigger as I sail downstream, spinning me on my back like a pinwheel. As I careen uncontrollably I can see other leaves have been joining me, falling from the trees around and cart-wheeling into the water. They then spin and turn in bigger and bigger eddying circles around the stream. More and more leaves and debris fall, skipping along deliberately over the crevices and rocks and sand, like little lambs (3.50). The scenery quickens as more shrubs appear and trees taller, the skips stronger and quicker. I realize that soon we will be finding the river and the sound of swift streams of water grows increasingly louder. Now I can see rocks, mostly covered with green, slippery moss, surrounded by slimy underwater ferns. I cruise around them like a waltz as if in a dream, the clear water turning white as it entrain air while rushing over them (4.38). Then suddenly all slow to a crawl (5.05) as the river enters a large lake. The slipstream drops in speed to almost standstill as it expands into a large body of water (5.24). The flow becomes eerily quiet, echoing across the body of the lake. But it is still there (5.37) – the undercurrent stubbornly pushing below – like singing an undying melody. A soft, almost imperceptible breeze comes out from nowhere, floating me about aimlessly on the water surface. A small water fowl glides unobtrusively among the reeds, its rear feathers a splash of red. Overhead a giant sea-osprey glides sinuously but gracefully against the backdrop of an ever-brightening dawn. Its head, small in comparison to its wings turning here and there, spotting prey. Nearby some fruit that has fallen from a tree bops quietly and calmly up and down, in response to the whispering melody of water moving. On and on it whispers in serene progression of small enchanting, gentle echoes (6.13). It seems to go on forever, repeating itself in heavenly peacefulness, when gradually a rush comes upon me as the lake pours out towards a waterfall (7.41). The rush gets faster and faster, spinning me around in dizzying speed and pushing me under. They twist along like never-ending tendrils of jets playfully caressing the onrushing rocks. Again and again, more rocks appear, bigger and steeper and the jets are beginning to be thrown in mayhem. Large sprays of white foam arch over the rocks as the torrent crashes into them. Bigger and higher they go, spraying again and again as the river widens downwards and the flow gushes forth. All this time the giant sway of force persists – bursting forth and dying off as before – like a melancholic wail that refuses to go away. The river bank now appears and you can see mini-wavelets lapping at the rock edges, like making repeated dance moves, teasing and cajoling each other, growing larger and larger as the torrent sweeps through. Then the terrifying edge of the fall approaches nearer and nearer and more of us floaters are thrown in utter confusion as the water reaches terminal speed, crashing down in free fall. All hell breaks loose and I can feel being tossed wildly into space (9.17), not knowing where I will land, with chilly cold sprays blowing me hither and thither, up and down, across and over (9.48). After sailing in the air away from the cascade I see-saw downwards and finally land with a muffled splash on calm water below (10.02). Before I can stabilize myself, suddenly a wave takes me over and I realize that I have reached the fast center of the river (10.14). Wave after wave churns me over and under the foam and rushes me pass majestic cliffs and towering vegetation. They are loud, as if screaming me to go forward with the current providing the relentless push of the river (10.26). Faster and faster it goes – and then as if someone suddenly turns a giant faucet off, the flow slows almost to a stop as we reach another body of water (11.44) – this time the large mouth of another river – the Elbe. As my slipstream winds down toward this huge waterway, a colorful vista opens out in front of the sunrise. The mist splashes the rays across the broken sky and the river appears to flow into it. Everything now slows – the flow, the sound and the debris floating around me – like a record running down – until you can almost hear a raindrop. A feather, seemingly defying gravity descends from the sky above and stops dead on the water surface next to me. The pristine quietness that follows seems to come from very far away as we follow the large river out to the open estuary. Slowly, like forever, the sound of the water dies…until silence. There ahead is the sea in its vastness and majesty.
Until death do we meet?
He pointed to two faint dots dancing a twirl on the screen. “That’s Algola Uris, a twin star system that has been around 20 billion years. What keeps them together is centrifugal – the balancing force against gravitation. Several years ago something happened to one – maybe an asteroid hit, or some stellar implosion. Its twin was never seen again.” Dr. Sykes paused as his students waited. But for a full second his mind was raring back 25 years ago in his own life.
It takes two to die
An unbearable sadness descends as I feel the giant wheels of Time, unstoppable, grinding away people, feelings and memories gone by. So final is its passage that there’s nothing you can do to trap the joys and peasantry through the years. Then the person closest to you has gone ahead, and now there’s no one even to share this thought with. (Feb 7 2016)
Harassing the future (Nov 2017)
The recent spate of sexual harassment like skeletons coming out of the closets have taken a toll on US public figures. No longer is any form of male voyeurism able to escape shame and dismissal. For most of us average males it raises red flags when we get close to the opposite sex. No longer is the mating game a norm. One cannot just make a pass and not be exposed to some injurious accusations. No more love making towards matrimonial couplings. It may not be far-fetched to say that the future of human race is at risk. Why so? Because sexual proclivities in marriages are getting cloudy in many countries, starting from America, thru Europe and to Asia and Australia. Same sex marriages do not procreate the species. Unless medical science can make a way. You may say statistically these marriages will not worsen the low birth-rates that is already prevailing in the developed world because biologically (or mentally?) LGBTs are already pre-disposed to be impotent. That leaves us the normal, fertile incumbents to provide the offsprings of human race. But tread carefully as a faux pas might cause your jobs, your friendships, or isolation from greater society. The new paradigm then is that the female should do the chasing – sexual harassments do not apply to them. (Nov 2017)
Eventide (July 2016)
The relentless March towards death at old age is a reality for all. But we must never lose the temerity to always looking up, for positive signs to go on renewed and encouraged, that at the end of a day gone is the start of a better one. Our lives reflect the turbulent times we are born in. Those who strived and bitterly suffered in times of conflict and utter wanton-ness became deeper and severe persons.
Nothing shocks one into realizing the finality and coldness of Death than the departure of a loved spouse. From everything about her to now, nothing. And soon enough it will be your turn. Then, everything you’ve thrown to slow the wheel of time gets crushed into oblivion.
The matrix of life (possible title)
Ever understood what a matrix is? I mean really understand the math of it. Basically (say, m by n matrix) it is a linear grouping of an ordered set of numbers. Each set defines a direction whose numbers determine the weights along predefined axes (called basis). Naturally the dimension of the set gives the total number of (n) defining axes (basis). The dimension of the groupings however determines the number (m) of such directions. Therefore, if you like, an m by n matrix can be viewed as a collection of m straight lines, with individual directions weighted by each of the n numbers corresponding to n defining axes (basis). The m-collection of lines can be further viewed as an object whose space is delineated by the m lines. However – a point on the object must lie on one of these lines (or more if the lines intersect in the case of degeneration) and thus interstices between the lines are not of the object. To cover these interstices, we can introduce another dimension to the matrix. Thus a p by m by n matrix is a p-collection of m-collection of lines. For the object to cover every interstice between the m lines p would have to be very large – even infinite. Indeed even without p (p = 1) with an infinite number of m, one could already make the lines as dense as necessary to include every interstice. In point of fact that is how we can define the space of a regular, planar object. Take the m by n matrix, and post multiply it by an 1 by m vector, which is basically an m-collection of variables. But because they are individually m variables they simply act to change the directions of the n straight lines to as dense as we want, in order to describe the object. There is a catch though. These changes only occur in a plane whose normal is defined by the respective row of m numbers in the matrix. Of course we have n such planes and the object look like the n-parallel plates inside a battery cell. In general they need not be parallel, like a jumble of embedded cardboard boxes but for a matrix it is often referred as a linear map where the n normals to the planes called covectors. We can of course make n as large as we want, infinite in fact, to define a regular, solid rectangular object, assuming the RHS 1 by m vector carry a continuous range of m variables. Therefore in short, an m by n matrix defines a linear space of n planes, whose normals are vectors formed by the m columns of n numbers, each. But mathematicians will cry foul here. A vector defines a direction only, and hence the n numbers must be normalized such that its squares sum to one. The variations of m line directions must presume a normalized line vector acted on by the post-multiplication of the vector variable as a linear map. Therefore each row of the m by n matrix must also have the squares of its n numbers summed to unity. This leads us to the idea of the determinant of the matrix. Consider a 3 by 3 matrix. Each row can be viewed as proportional to the unit vector of a plane normal containing lines whose direction vector is changed by pre-multiplying the matrix with a vector variable, as explained earlier. Now a parallelepiped formed by the 3 vectors has a volume given by its triple scalar product (TSP). If the vectors are each normalized then this volume is exactly unity. Therefore if the vectors (matrix) are not normalized, dividing it by the TSP would. The value of the TSP is better known as the determinant. Its value gives an idea of the structure of the matrix – it is singular when null. Still with me? If so let us consider the structure of a matrix. Consider the structure of a kite. The fabric that catches the wind and creates lift is held by a structure of bamboo sticks, if you like. The structure shapes the fabric. If the kite is rectangular, it must allow a rectangular fabric to catch the wind, just as if it is a rhombus, a crucifix structure will do. Because it defines the shape, there must be a property of any matrix that defines its “shape”. We then use this property to study the matrix and ignore the other extraneous numbers that form it. Consider again the pre-multiplication of an m by n matrix M, with an n by 1 vector v. The vector defines a point in space, and the result of the multiplication, Mv produces another vector w. We can see that w is simply the transformation of v to point into another direction and having a new length. What if the vector v is such that it does not change in direction by M but merely changes in length by a factor? Thus we have Mv = λv. This allows us to solve for possible vectors of v and scalar λ that characterizes the matrix M. Because they are unique to M the solutions are called the eigenvectors and eigenvalues respectively, of M. They represent the structure of a matrix, just as our skeletons determine the size and shape of clothes that fit us. When we decay away in time, our skeletons remain and so if one were to “stress” a matrix their eigen properties become apparent. More on this when we use matrices to represent regular, linear bodies. Let us return to how we represent a series of parallel planes earlier. We have stated that the pre-multiplication can be viewed as an m-collection of parallel planes, whose normals are vectors formed by the m rows of n numbers. What if we post-multiply a 1 by m vector variable with the m by n matrix, producing n columns of vectors representing n parallel lines, whose directions are varied by the variables? Thus we can also say that the object space is also an n-collection of parallel planes whose normal vectors are formed from the m rows of n numbers in the matrix. We have just described the dual nature of matrices like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. They both have the same body – much like a matrix having a unique determinant or eigen properties (ignoring exceptions of degeneration here, for the moment). But looking horizontally at n parallel planes (column vectors as normals) for the pre-multiplication, the view is vastly different if we look vertically at m parallel planes (row vectors as normals) for the post-multiplication case. But the object space is identical. Assuming the planes are parallel affords some rather nice properties, though it need not be so. For one they avoid the degenerated problems of intersecting planes, and if normalized, its transposed is its inverse. Plus its eigen values are symmetric and real, a treat to handle for real world bodies. However life is not all so nice or simple.
Now let us represent a polygonal solid using the p by m by n matrix, where p and m can be as large as possible to attain the resolution of the resulting sculptured tessellations. Like the kite example earlier such a solid would have eigen properties as well as determinants. However the surfaces are planar tessellations. To attain curved patches, the matrix elements are no more constant scalars but non-linear functions of some parameters. Even then one cannot produce any arbitrarily desired surface patches, but representations are limited to polynomial expansions and eigen properties, if any, become meaningless. Some types of these patches are well researched (e.g. Bezier, bicubic, or even bsplines) and mathematical formulations suitable for computer representations are readily available. (May 2009)
Guns are killing America (2016)
While driving interstate from Orlando to New York alone in 1980 I happened to pass the glittering pillars of a university campus at night. Now State-grant university grounds in the US used to be open – any bona fide visitors are welcome to its portals of learning. So I stopped by to admire the multicolored lights adorning the main entrance. It was like 2 am in the morning. Thinking back I think I was lucky to be alive. A treat or trick foreigner was killed by a resident when he approached the wrong house at Halloween. So if you strangely walk into a precinct at a unlikely time you’e likely to be shot. What happened to friendly neighborliness? When I was growing up I was used to stories of fights, sometimes mortally, when some gangster as much as stared at an opposing gang. But taking a gun at a stranger? Unheard of let alone permitted.
Serendipity and luck (Nov 2017)
In our armchair world cable news stream into our living room ever so conveniently. Political leaders in their world stage tout their words, actions, gaffes and humor. Its so easy to say – hey I can do better, or differently. But the fact is that it is they who are on the spot – not you. Through luck or din of hard work they’ve gained their status. Easy for us away from the heat of the spotlight or the opposing sounds to offer ourselves, but our destiny is not. The point is that one should always be ready and willing, if we deserve the spot. And available, to do the right thing. Serendipity can then be the fuel of greatness.
Spoken like a true Libran (Dec 2017)
The double standards held by many world politicians is stunning at best. Then reprehensible. Mixed with religion it becomes a potent sauce of deceptive behavior. Seems so jaw-dropping that one can lie, straight-face, completely blind-sided to previously held personal manifesto, for purely political gains. No one cares anymore about a consistent mode of conduct and speech. Anything convenient and expedient is fair game. What gall!
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