OF SPELLING, NOMENCLATURE AND INSIPIENCE

INNEWVATION
Innovation is the buzzword these days. My quest for an innovation in innovation culminated in a valuable addition to the English language. The new word on its way to the "Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary" is ""Innewvation". Why not? The "newness" of innovation is aptly incorporated (and that is the etymology of it!!!). Though I will claim originality, I should acknowledge the motivation. Some time back I saw this on the shutters of a jewellery shop in Kottayam: "Shop closed for RENEWVATION". Ever since I saw this, I started hunting for more of this stuff. I found a lot of shops at COLLECTRATE P.O and even COLLETRATE P.O! And of course there was no dearth for RESTAURENTS. Some of these were VEGITARIAN or even VEGETERIAN!!! And in a decently "spell checked" restaurant the VEGITARIYAN BIRIYANI costs only Rs75. Cheap indeed!!! There are any number of banners announcing the INAGURATION of shops. Last year at Thiruvalla, I saw a huge flex board FECILITATING a Padma Bhushan recipient. The list is endless.............

WHAT IS THERE IN A NAME?
Some time back I read in the news papers that a small tea shop in Alapuzha was sued for crores of rupees. The poor shop owener had named it "HOTEL HILTON"! After reading this I stoped buying the milk packet from the "TAJ HOTEL" at Chungam in the outskirts of Kottayam. Recently while driving to Kochi airport this restaurant caught my attention: "ZERO STAR HOTEL". Modesty or honesty or ingenuity - I do not know. The "Best Bakery" in Kottayam is well known for its yummy sweets. Be it Halwa or Cake or whatever it is simply the best true to its name and tradition. Then one day I saw this "BETTER BAKERY" in Kanjikuzhi, Kottayam. "How come?" I asked. Even as I was learning to live with it, I had the good fortune of seeing this; again in Kanjikuzhy: "THE NEW BETTER BAKERY" ! Areyaar, this is what Innewvation is all about.
::BEST, BETTER, BETTEREST::
All these were in my mind for quite some time. But the immediate provocation for writing these now, is the name of a pickup van I saw at Kayamkulam while driving to Kollam. It read "REBBISH MON" (in Malayalam Mon means Son) !!! I prayed, this be no spelling mistake. For, no father will like to have "Rubbish Mon".
Now tell me. How about this one though spell checked: "SHIBU MOBILE MORTUARY".
To me it is nauseating. This Mr Shibu must be the honourable owner of the freezer or his loving son!! In either case....Oh! Horrible!
But, will any of these beat this one at a petrol station that read "OPEN 25 HOURS"!
It is only a coincidence that the following three stories are from Chemistry classes. The first one is an innocuous one (colourless and odourless too). It is about the Chemistry teacher asking the students to "consider a V-shaped U-tube". The second:
The curious student: "Sir, what is the meaning of INFLAMMABLE and HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE"?
The scholarly teacher: Inflammable is something that does not usually catch fire and highly inflammable is that never catches fire, like water!
The third and final:
The teacher proclaimed:"RADIUM WAS DISCOVERED BY MARY CURIE AND HER HUSBAND MADAM CURIE"

When a cool gentle breeze turned into a Tornado

Pal Pal Dil Ke Paas
Again it is an Agra tale.I really wonder. I left Agra in 1979 completing my MSc. It is 31 long years now. But I still "live" there. There is not a day in my life when I dont think about St: John's college, my Alma mater. This is no exaggeration and I speak with all my honesty. In the year 2000, I was there in Agra with my son Renjan and my colleague Prof C.O. Philip (COP), affectionately called Pochen, another St: John's college fanatic. I went there to attend the MSc(Physics) old student's meet. (Dr J.K Sharma was gracious enough to inform me of the function). COP had done his MA in English literature there long long back! When I told him that I was going to Agra, he jumped the band wagon without inquiring the purpose of the visit. See, for us so crazy of St: John's, being there itself was the purpose. During the function which was a very emotional reunion, I was asked to speak a few words. I was not prepared and I had not spoken in public before. Yet I walked to the dais and these words came spontaneously from from the bottom of my heart: "St: John's college to me is like an old Kishore Kumar song. PAL PAL DIL KE PAAS".

The Mother
Oh God! I had started off to tell another story.
1978. That year's Agra University convocation was held in St: John's college. A huge shamiana was erected on the lush green hockey court in front of the main building built in red stone with unmatched architectural splendour. The chief guest of the day was Mother Theresa. But I decided to stay back in my hostel theHaileybury House. I was down with severe viral fever. I thought I would complete the book I was reading, "Ninety minutes at Entebbe" by William Stevenson. The book depicted the unbelievable rescue operation by Israeli commandos nick named "Operation Thunderbolt".

On July 4, 1976 an Air France plane with 248 passengers was hijacked by PLO terrorists and was forcibly landed in Entebbe airport in Idi Amin's Uganda. At Entebbe all non-Jew passengers were freed. One French nun refused to leave saying she remain a hostage in return for a Jew who shall be freed. But she was thrown out. I have heard a similar story from Hitler's Germany. When the Nazi soldiers were stuffing a gas chamber with Jews, a Jesuit priest offered to go in, in return for a Jew.

The "Operation Thunderbolt" was carried out by 100 Israeli commandos flown in from Tel Aviv. During the 90 minute operation all the hijackers, 45 Ugandan soldiers and three hostages were killed. The commander Lt. Col Yonathan Netanyahu also was killed. (His brother Benjamin Netanyahu later became the Prime Minister of Israel). 103 hostages were rescued. Till date "Operation Thunderbolt' remains the greatest commando operation executed anywhere in the world.

Even as I was lying sick in my hostel and reading the book, I felt an inner voice urging me to go to the function to be addressed by Mother Theresa. When I reached there (some 50 meters from Haileybury House) , what I saw was an ocean of humans. I reached there just in time. The Mother was to start her speech. She spoke of love, care for others, universal brotherhood and a host of such things. She spoke of destitutes and the depressed. She spoke in a cool low tone. No high sounding words. No jugglery with words. No histrionics. It was plain simple language understood by all. People assembled there felt a cool gentle breeze of love and compassion flowing over them. People sat mesmerized by the divinity of her words. Believe me,at the end of the speech the audience forgot to clap. Rather, they couldn't. I saw many people wiping their eyes. A day I will never forget. The function came to a close.

You will not believe what I tell you now. This really happened. I am honest. I am not trying to mystify anything.

The mother had just left. All of us came out of the shamiyana. Suddenly a tornado came roaring and the shamiyana was tossed up in the air like a toy and it came down crashing. We all wondered, what would have happened if the tornado had occurred 15 minutes earlier. It is with horror I still remember this incident. Elders told us that a tornado or a strong wind never occurred during that time of the year. People remained perplexed. I am still clue-less.

BEYOND PERFECT TEN !!!

1976 Montreal Olympics is remembered as the Olympics of the 14 year old Romanian girl Nadia Comaneci. In gymnastics she created history by scoring the first ever Perfect Ten. The electronic score boards were not equipped to display a score of 10.0 . Thus the first ever perfect 10 was displayed as 1.00 !!!
That was long back. Come 2010. No gymnastics. No Nadia. Some down to the earth students at the George Sudarshan Centre (GSC), CMS college produced some marvelous results at the GATE 2010. Hold your breath. 9 students from GSC got qualified in the GATE 10 in Physics. Stupendous by any yard stick. But I was not excited. This time I had dreamt of a perfect 10. I had even designed a poster in my mind: "PERFECT 10 @ GATE 10".
Now a little statistics. ( History I shall elaborate in another post). Starting from2002 till 2010, 43 students qualified in GATE from GSC. 15 students were selected for UGC-lectureship and UGC-JRF. Of the 43, Prashanth Narayanan had a percentile score of 99.36 and an All India Rank (AIR) of 22. That was in 2005. And last year Rajany was among the top 25 of the UGC-JRF winners. Currently our students are there in the top academic and scientific centres in India like IIT, IISc, BARC, DRDO and IGCAR. Six of our former students are in various European Universities. (Surprisingly these victories are not celebrated in the college)

Coming back. With only 9 successes, the caption in my mind, ie, PERFECT 10 @ GATE 10" remained in my mind as a soft copy. But suddenly three girls from the final year BSc class sprang a surprise. They qualified in some national level examinations. Veena passed the JAM and joined IIT Madras. Roshni joined Pondicherry Central University and Devi got selected for the PG programme of the University of Hyderabad.

A Teacher's Dilemma: So from one short of a Perfect 10, it is now 9+3 = 12.
What shall I call it?

A "DAZZLING DOZEN"??

HOWZAAT ???

APPLICATIONS OF PHYSICS

Eating and drinking Physics

No man, you are mistaken. I am not going to speak on someone so dedicated to Physics that he/she eats or drinks Physics or does Physics even while eating or drinking.

This is an old story. Renjan was four or five then. One day we went to a tamilian vegetarian restaurant in Kottayam and we were seated on opposite sides of one of the unusually small tables there. The tables there were not broad enough for two people. I had this funny thought. If two strangers are seated on opposite sides, how will they manage without an "overlap of wave functions"? Anyway worrying about that was not our business. We settled down to our business and ordered two masala dosas. Dosa came flying, though it was assumed that various items are "manufactured" only as per order. Probably these people have a well defined statistics, borne out of experience. They might definitely have a very correct "distribution" of the orders for items enlisted in the menu. Otherwise how can those dosas that came flying along with the order be so hot? "These tamil people are great mathematicians" I told myself. Even as I was completing my soliloquy, I heard the supervisor shouting,"Ramanujan, "Antha front table Kleen Pannunko". Oh! It was chaos in my mind for a moment. I was thinking of mathematics and here the supervisor asking Ramanujan to clean up a table!! This often happens to me. It takes me a "very small but finite" time to come to grips with situations like these. Every "Aryas", Uduppi" kind of restaurant has a supervisor like this. These men seem to just walk the length and breadth of the hotels. But in fact they are wonderful "space-time" managers in these usually congested places.

HYDRODYNAMICS

I lost no time to enter the solemn duty entrusted with me. I was half way through my masala dosa when I noticed that Renjan has not started even. The boy was sitting there with pouted lips and tears rolling down his cheeks. Even before I asked anything, he said tremulously, "That uncle behind you is scaring me". Now how can I suddenly turn back to see this uncle? I gently massaged the back of my neck with my left hand and turned my head in slow motion as if I had pain or stiffness in my neck. Alas! the boy was right though for wrong reasons. I remained in that "semi peechae mood" position for some more time and realized what was happening. This man had a very peculiar way of eating. He took a fistful and stuffed his mouth with much more than its "permitted capacity". He chewed a lot and what followed was really frightening. His head came forward by three or four inches like that of a tortoise and I saw him applying some pressure somewhere in the "Northern Hemisphere" thereby sending the well chewed stuff down the throat in one shot. In this process his eyes came protruding out. And this was what frightened Renjan. "Poor boy" I said. I wanted to tell him, "Mon, this is what Pascal's principle is all about! It states that a change in pressure applied to an enclosed incompressible fluid is transmitted undiminished to every portion of the fluid and to the walls of the container". But then, the boy was too small to realize that eye-balls are very loose parts of the container!

OPTICS

I told Renjan to not look at the "bad uncle" any more. I started "concentrating" on the latter half of my dosa and there was a loud scream from the poor boy. I turned back to see what the man has done this time and seeing him I thought I was going to scream even louder. The man had turned into a Dracula. I told you earlier? Sometimes it takes me a moment to come to grips with what is happening. The gentleman was now drinking water from a glass. "So what?" did you ask? Then listen. With his mouth wide open almost half of the rim of the glass was inside his mouth. When he tilted the glass to drink, his front teeth in the upper jaw were now inside water. The curvature of the glass plus the water in the tilted position of the glass formed sort of a plano-convex lens. The gentleman's teeth got magnified beyond all proportions and had a devilish look. I wanted to tell the boy of the lens action. But then the boy was too small.

I felt sorry for the boy as he sat there with an all-lost feeling and an untouched masala dosa before him.

Physics is such a wonderful subject finding application every where. So you finally agree with me?

Prof. K. Sreenivasa Rao - The sharp shooter!

1986 was a very special year for me. That was the year when I could see some of the best brains in the world from very close quarters. Prof. E.C.G Sudarshan the world renowned physicist and the greatest alumnus of our college was in the CMS campus. He had with him two physicists - Prof K. Babu Joseph (CUSAT, Cochin) and Prof. K. Sreenivasa Rao (IMSc, Chennai)- whom he had entrusted with the task of establishing the "George Sudarshan Centre for Physics and Computer Science" in CMS college. A week long all India seminar on "Recent Developments in Theoretical Physics" was organised and the list of speakers read like the who-is-who of theoretical Physics in India. The proceedings of the seminar were edited by Prof. Rao and was published by Springer. Yes, such things were initiated in CMS college but tragically nothing happened thereafter. The George Sudarshan Centre was a great concept. But the baton of a wonderfully begun programme was handed over to the weak hands of unimaginative persons who later became very self seeking too. All that in another post.

The then principal Prof P.T Abraham had deputed me to be with Rao Sir wherever he went. And here starts the story.

I introduced myself to Rao Sir as a Physics teacher in CMS college. Without losing a moment came the question: "Have you read Resnick and Halliday"?
"No Sir". I replied politely.
"Then you are not a Physics teacher"!
That was the first salvo fired. Right on my temple. After all these years I believe that with that merciless bullet Rao Sir did me a great service. Not only that I read the book but I made hundreds of my students read it too. Again it was from him that I first heard of "Schaum series" books. And hundreds of my students read these books and benefited. Particularly two books one on Mechanics by Murray R Spiegel and another book on Electromagnetism by Edminister were greatly useful to the students.

A day of Shoot at Sight
I will not ever forget the next day with Rao Sir. The above title could well be replaced with "Rao on the Rampage"! I had mentioned about the national seminar. It was to be inaugurated by the then vice-chancellor of CUSAT, Dr. Gopalan. Rao Sir wanted some changes in the programme and went to Cochin (now Kochi) and I accompanied him (that was the best I could). He suggested the change in the programme and the vice-chancellor retorted:
"Too many cooks spoil the broth"
Even before I could say unto myself "Oh God what will happen now", the firing had already started:
"See Mr vice-chancellor, I am not a cook, I am a serious scientist. And wherever I am a cook, I am the chief cook".
The guns became silent and the vice-chancellor become wiser!

The scene now shifts to the regional office of HCL computers in Cochin city. They were the only suppliers of computers in India and their office had a very posh interior. The officers there were even more elegant in their looks. Though Rao Sir had crashed into the "wonderland", I was standing there on trembling feet. Those were the days when people in their thousands would have queued up battling all odds to just see the miracle machine called computer. Rao Sir had placed an order with the HCL for the supply of two computers. But the delivery date had passed without delivery. I told myself, " here I am to witness another blood bath". A top HCL official started like this:
"Sir, what has happened is that..."
The answer was interrupted and the firing started:
"What has happened is that nothing has happened"!!
The top official with an exotic look started perspiring inside the super cooled room.

In the evening we were back in Kottayam and Adv: Ninan took us to a restaurant called Jewel Box run by some elderly educated ladies. Adv. Ninan introduced Rao Sir to one lady and she very politely asked:
"where are you working Sir"?
Adv Ninan and I were bewildered to hear the answer:
"I can work anywhere in the world"!
I turned through "365 degrees" to find at least the mortal remains of the lady, but couldn't find any. All through the day I was with Rao Sir like R.K Lakshman's "common man" without ever opening my mouth.
People say that well begun is half done. The vice-chancellor had begun it all very well in the morning.

Very Witty Too
I conclude this story with two incidents (non-violent this time). Rao Sir was writing the names of the speakers for the inaugural function of the National seminar. I was beside him. He had to accommodate a particular person in the list, let us call him Mr X. I heard Rao Sir murmuring while writing " Now three minutes for Mr X's bla bla bla"!!!
Years later we were discussing the bye-law for a certain organization and I asked him "Sir, what do you mean by ex-officio member"?
Pat came the answer:
"That means whoever comes to that position has to be invited. For instance, if a monkey comes to that position you will have to invite it"!!
Only natural that I had no more doubts left!!!

NOTE: I have touched upon only the lighter aspects of the "phenomenon" I came across in 1986. The real Prof K Sreenivasa Rao is the Physicist or Physicist turned Mathematician. I am not the least competent to talk on this Prof KSR.

Baptism by Fire

During 1984-85 I was an MPhil student of the Agra University. I was there on a one year leave from CMS college, Kottayam as a teacher fellow under the Faculty Improvement Programme (FIP) of the UGC. Our teachers were Dr S.P Goel, Professor and Head of the department and Dr Jaishanker then a reader. Both were good teachers but I got very close to Dr Goel. He spoke beautiful English and I felt delighted discussing various issues with him. I became a regular visitor of his residence inside the University campus. I still cherish those long evening hours I spent with him talking to him, hearing from him and violently reacting whenever there were conflict of ideas. I should say that these talks were very enlightening. We talked politics, religion, spirituality, art, literature and of course education. Those days I was very much impressed by Hindu philosophy and Marxist ideology. I read a lot of books on both. My faith was so strong that I was not prepared to listen to any argument against these. One evening I was in a combative mood while talking to Dr Goel and the issue was Hindu philosophy. Then an ardent follower of the philosophy, I was arguing vociferously and relentlessly. I felt that Dr Goel disagreed with my views. On that evening Prof Goel was unusually silent as if he wanted me to talk all that I have to. Even as I was very adamant and agitated and was trying to stick to my guns, I could see a disarming smile on Dr Goel's face. This added to my rage but Dr Goel remained unfazed. One can remain like that only when one is very clear in one's mind and thoughts. I continued for some more time but I could feel my arguments becoming less lethal. Finally I stopped. There was silence for some time. And in a very soft voice Dr Goel asked "Mr Rajan, let me ask you this. Forget the God or the Son of God Jesus Christ. Can you cite one instance in the entire history of mankind where an innocent person willingly opted to die for the sins of others? Why are you not moved by this supreme sacrifice by Jesus Christ? Tell me, what greater philosophy than this sacrifice? For a moment think of the humiliation and cruelty He suffered on the cross before dying for the sins of mankind?"
Oh GOd! I was terribly shaken by these devastating questions. I hung my head in shame and grief for not realizing this philosophy of love, tolerance and unparalleled sacrifice. I could not talk. I felt like all my strength drained off. I felt numb. I felt frozen in time. Yet I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I sat like that. I dont know how much time elapsed. Finally I could say this much in a very feeble voice, but with the strength of faith:
"Sir, you my Hindu Professor has baptized me into Christianity".

Prof E.C.G Sudarshan in CMS College-Part III

The Acharya finds no reason
Come 2007. Prof. Sudarshan was in CMS college once again. After 1986 he had visited the college on quite a few occasions, but this one turned out to be very special for me. Prof Sudarshan and Prof Bhamathi reached Kottyam on a harthal day. I was appointed the "teacher-in-waiting" by the then principal Prof Korulla Isaac. We received the honourable guests at the Kottayam railway station and drove to hotel Pearl Regency with police escort. Before leaving, Prof Sudarshan enquired about my family. He was greatly impressed when I told him that my son Renjan was an undergraduate student at the Chennai Mathematical Institute (CMI). The next day I had the good fortune of driving them to CMS college in my car. Prof Sudarshan gave a lecture and he was felicitated by the college community on his being awarded the Padmavibhushan, a national honour. They spent the whole day in the college. The next day morning I went to hotel Pearl Regency to officially see them off. They were going to Kumarakom and were to stay at the "Golden Waters" resort. Just when the taxi was about to start, Prof Sudarshan waved to me.I went near him and he said "I want to talk to your son. He can meet me at Kumarokam in the evening". I stood breathless. Just when I was thinking of freedom from the brunt of being with this greatest Physicist over the globe, I am asked to be with him in the evening too!
Renjan refused to come and I had a tough time convincing him. Finally by seven in the evening Renjan, Anna (my daughter) and I were in Prof Sudarshan's room in "Golden Waters". Prof Sudarshan said to Anna "Anna you come here and sit between me any wife. You and my wife look very pretty". Then he turned to Renjan and said "Let us settle down to business. Tell me what did you find most interesting while learning Physics?" I had a mild shock hearing this. I wondered what this first year undergraduate student will say. But he said he could enjoy Quantum Mechanics more once he read Group Theory. For the next half an hour Prof Sudarshan talked on Quantum Mechanics and Group Theory, all looking at Renjan. I was still wondering why we were invited at all. Just when we were to take leave of them the Professor proclaimed "you will have dinner with us". I felt a terrible shock. I was sure that food will not go down my throat in this great man's presence. But I was left with no option but to oblige.
The restaurant was in the midst of a garden beside a beautiful pond. Very close to where we were seated was a goose crying aloud. Yes, it was crying. I could feel it. There was scare and grief in its eyes. Its sound had a heart breaking tone. Then Prof Sudarshan told me that a python had devoured its gander in the evening and since then the goose was crying like that.I was astonished by Prof Sudarshan's pain and sympathy for the goose. He kept talking about the hapless goose.
The dinner was served and finally when the desserts came, Prof Bhamathi told Prof Sudarshan, a chronic diabetic, to share the ice cream with Anna. After having a detailed look at the ice cream, without raising his head, he murmured like a child " There isn't much to be shared"!
Now I summoned all the courage at my command and asked the Professor "Sir, it was a great honour for us when you asked us to be with you in the evening. Then you further honoured us by inviting us for dinner with you. How come Sir"?
Pat came the answer:
"For certain things there are no reasons"I was dumb-founded. Who can question the Acharya?

Prof E.C.G Sudarshan in CMS College - Part II

ACHARYA DEVO BHAVA
Prof Sudarshan delivered the 1986 Benjamin Bailey lectures in the library hall. A few minutes into the speech I sat bewildered. Oh God! a human being can talk like this? The speech was a profusion of philosophic, esoteric thoughts supplemented lavishly by quoting from the scriptures, vedas and the world of literature. I lost track of the speech but was still keenly listening and enjoying the beauty of the language and the air of mysticism he had created. The lecture was over in an hour but I felt like floating in the thin air.
Now the question-answer session followed with Mr George Issac as the moderator. With a masters in economics from Oxford he once addressed himself as the only intellectual in Kottayam! (Arundhathi Roy is his niece)Mr Issac invited the audience to ask questions. The first man to come forward questioned some of the remarks by Prof Sudarshan and even alleged blasphemy. He accused Prof Sudarshan of speaking against God. Prof Sudarshan answered very politely and was unusually humble. Probably emboldened by the polite answer another man came forward and made some scathing attacks for which too Prof Sudarshan gave gracious answers. When a third man walked up to ask a question I told myself: "If it is a question on similar lines then the man is walking to the gallows". The third man had hardly completed. Prof Sudarshan grabed the microphone (I could see the fire in his eyes) and made the following demolishing statement: "I am a Physicist. I am the ACHARYA of Physics. I cannot think and talk like ordinary people".
There weren't anymore questions and you could hear a pin drop.
I slowly stood up , bowed my head, folded my arms and could hear some inner voice telling me:
"Acharya Devo Bhava".

Prof E.C.G Sudarshan in CMS College - Part I

CHEMISTRY(Main), PHYSICS, MATHEMATICS(Subsidiary)

Prof. E.C.G Sudarshan is a name known all over the world with immense reverence. But we at the CMS college, Kottayam are a little extravagant in our pride and arrogance when we pronounce that name. Yes, we have every right to be so while talking about our "Old Boy". Prof Sudarshan and the former President of India Dr K.R Narayanan are the most illustrious sons of CMS College. Every time in CMS Prof Sudarshan is very eloquent on how two teachers here shaped his future. He never tires talking about his Physics teacher Prof. George M Thomas and his Mathematics teacher Prof Eapen. A third teacher whom he remembers so fondly well is Prof C.I Raman Nair, his Malayalam teacher.
I had the good fortune of seeing Prof Sudarshan way back in 1986 when he was in CMS to deliver that year's Benjamin Bailey lecture. On the day before the lecture he and the then Principal Prof P.T Abraham were walking from the principal's bungalow, an imposing edifice, to the office and I was following them, always keeping a safe distance. As they approached the "Great Hall" (that is the great name of the college auditorium) some boys and girls were sitting in the lawns chatting leisurely. In all probability a romantic interlude between boring classes. When the gentle Casuarina (Choolamaram in Malayalam) breeze with its accompanying soft music spreads over the idyllic campus, one gets transcended into a very sublime world of beautiful thoughts and images and often gets divorced from reality. But the students still had the wisdom to stand up in respect for this great Physicist. Seeing this Prof Sudarshan walked up to the group and asked:
"What do you learn here?"
The students in their innocence, but without any doubt answered:
"BSc . Chemistry(Main), Physics and Mathematics(Subsidiary)"
The Professor asked a very serious question in a lighter vein:
"How can Physics and Mathematics be the subsidiary of Chemistry?"
I am very sure that the students might have wondered: "Why Not???"

WENT AIR by "GO AIR"

During the last week of June 2010 Renjan, Anna, Susan and I were in Mumbai. Renjan had to join the Tata Institute Of Fundamental Research (TIFR) for the PhD programme, on the 26th of June. We boarded the Nethravathy express on the 24th so as to reach Mumbai on the 25th. But a landslide on the Konkan railway track upset all our calculations. The train was held up before Madgoan at a small station. (The details of what happened then, in another post). We started by train from Kochi and reached Mumbai by a brand new red Tata Sumo driven by the young handsome Mr Mahajan. From Ratnagiri to Mumbai it was a six hour wonderful drive along the beautiful ghat road, the NH-17 Goa-Mumbai highway. Ten minutes into our journey from Ratnagiri, from where we hired the taxi, the heavens were opened and there was torrential rain resulting in poor visibility. But undeterred Mahajan drove his Sumo at an average of70 km/h. He was too well aware of our urgency in reaching Mumbai. And finally when we reached the TIFR campus on the evening of 26th Ribu and Sangeetha were there to receive us. Tired and exhausted a return journey by the Nethravathy express (for which we had our reservation) was unimaginable. We all sat together and in our collective wisdom we took the important decision-We shall fly back.Anna, Susan and I had never seen the inside of an air plane. We had seen these flying machines only as small little things there, far up in the skies. An online booking by the "GO AIR" airlines was done. The next day Renjan joined TIFR. We remained in the beautiful campus till noon and in the evening went to the Nariman Point. With a turbulent sea on the one side and sky high buildings on the other, the place had a very exotic look that we refused to believe that this is a part of India. But then we were standing before Hotel Trident which was in news with 26/11. When BMW's sped past us in large numbers, I pinched myself to convince myself that I was not dreaming.
28th June. We reached the Santa Cruze airport. We went through all the formalities with all the diffidence of first timers. Once inside the plane I saw passengers seated with stiff necks and tight lips. None was talking. I felt very uncomfortable. "No questions", I said. Just mimic the seasoned air travelers. Though not with flying colours, I passed every hurdle starting with the seat belt. The plane took off. An hour and forty five minutes later came the announcement. "We are reaching Kochi and are ready for landing. Please fasten your seat belts". I obliged. Not a minute elapsed. The plane descended with frightening speed and tilted violently. The ladies screamed. The purse in my pocket was thrown off. Somebody else's mobile phone came flying to me and landed on my head. But for the seat belt I woud have ended up a flying object. The pilot apologised for the "small inconvenience" and put the blame on air turbulence. Once the plane stabilised people had a sigh of relief. I gave a pat on my back congratulating myself because in the turmoil I was the only one who remained cool.
You know how? .......er.....because......you know.....to tell honestly......
I thought, this was how planes land!!!

NOTE: Today( 31st June 2010) my niece Nidhi came flying from Bangalooru, again by the "GO AIR". She too experienced the same landing problem. A veteran of so many flights around the world she could not stomach the air turbulence theory. My friend Dr Sreekanta Kurup says that he has read that this is a dirty technic employed by private air lines to save fuel. If that be true, then this is a crime that deserves to be brutally punished.

A winter-night adventure

Agra. One December night, 1985. I just got typed the last page of my MPhil dissertation at the type writing centre owned by Mr Das. Das was a civilian employee of the Indian Air Force. He used to open his shabby one room shop at 6 in the evening after a day's work at the IAF office at Kheria. We used to sit all through the night and it was a treat watching Dass's fingers flying over the key board at tremendous speed, but with grace. It will be far too an exaggeration if I say that Das resembled Zakhir Hussian over the tabla. But still Das was a phenomenon. After that last page typed, I left Das and it was two hours past mid night. With no hope of getting a cycle rickshaw I was standing there alone at the St: John's college junction. It was so cold that I started shivering in the freezing winter. I wondered how I will survive the night. I even thought of jumping the gate of St: John's college and finding a refuge on the veranda of the Physics department. After all St: John's college belongs to me!!! It was almost an hour since I was standing at the St: John's "Chourah". Then suddenly there appeared a glimmer of hope. I could see the head light of an approaching scooter from the Raja Mandi side. I decided to ask for a lift. But alas, it all happened in a flash. The scooter reached the junction with great speed , went over the unmarked road divider and I saw a Sardarji thrown off. I ran up to him and he was crying aloud. He said that he has broken his back. I offered to take him to some hospital. He requested me to take him to his house. Surprisingly, his house was very close to the University old boy's hostel where I was staying. (The hostel was not for the old. Nearby there was another newly constructed hostel and the old one came to be known as the old hostel). The scooter was still in good running condition with just the handle "looking" slightly sideways. The Sardarji managed to sit on the back seat and I started off. I changed gears 1,2,3 and when all my efforts for the 4th gear failed, the Sarderji murmured, "it has only 3 gears". The VIjay Super had only 3 gears which I never knew. We rode through the Palliwal park near the University, which bore a frightening ghostly look in the chilling moon light. On reaching home the Sardarji alighted with great difficulty and limped to the front door and pressed the bell. In no time all the lights were on and the ladies who came out started screaming seeing the man with blood all over his body. I stood at the gate not knowing what to do. Suddenly the man turned to me and came almost running to me. I was surprised to hear him saying "Bhayya, I am sorry, I forgot to thank you". That was like a Sardarji.
I was about to leave but he wont allow. He awoke a sleeping rickshawalla on the street and instructed him to take me to the hostel. It was also instructed that not a penny shall be taken from me. I could not believe. For him then, the greatest concern was to take care of me and not of. Only a Sardarji can behave like that in such a situation. I told him that the next day I was leaving for Kerala. And pat came the proclamation, "whenever you are in Agra, come here. Ask for Bhutto. I will take care of you".
The next day I narrated this story to my friends in the hostel but many of them refused to believe that I have not just seen Bhutto but even rescued him. They told me that he was a big shot and that he owned a large fleet of trucks plying all over India.
After that incident I had been to Agra many times but could not visit Bhutto though I always wanted to meet him.
In November 2008 I was again in Agra to attend the alumni meet of the Physics PG students of St: John's college. I and my family stayed with my friend Anandakuttan. His flat is near the Hariparwat junction. Kuttan is a gentleman par excellence. He teaches Zoology at the St: Peter's college, Agra. And amazingly, he can teach Physics and Chemistry with equal ease. His wife Lekha is a wonderful host. She teaches Mathemaics at the St: Paul's college, Agra. Their son Achal Anand walks away with whatever he aims at! Yes, a student of St: Peter's, Agra, he is a national level winner in long distance walking. In the 10th board examination he was the topper among all the students of Agra city. I told Kuttan of my desire to meet Bhutto. I had only a faint idea of the location of his house. It was almost 25 years since the mid night incident. I, Kuttan and Achal went searching for Bhutto's residence near the Agra University. None knew of him. Finally seeing a Sardarji name board we went in. The person staying there was a retired army officer. The moment we told him of our purpose he started shouting at us and threatened to call the police - for what reason, I still do not know. He kept talking like a possessed. Kuttan felt insulted and started explaining. But I felt it prudent to leave the place as quickly as possible as the sardarji was at his abusive best.Even as this drama was in progress I had a call on my mobile. It was Lekha,
She asked "GOT?"
I replied "WE ALMOST GOT!"
And here ends the Bhutto saga

A HISTORIAN'S TRYST WITH HISTORY

It was the last day of my MSc final year examination at the St John's college ,Agra.Even as my friends started preparations for the next day's journey back to their homes, I suddenly and mysteriously fell into some sort of melancholy. I thought. I will not be attending the classes of Gosh Sir and Ram Sir any more. I will not be sprawling idle on the lush green lawns of Haileybury House (my hostel) enjoying the morning sun during another winter. I will miss the Burfy, Samosa and hot tea of Chaubeji's canteen. This Chuabeji smiled a lot but never talked a word as his mouth always contained loads of Pan. Then I thought. I won't anymore see R.K Lakshman's cartoons as The Times of India was not available in Kerala those days. This list of all that I was going to miss was endless. Then it suddenly occurred to me, I will go to the Taj Mahal. Who knows when I get another chance to see it. I went there alone. I hired a Tonga (horse cart) though it was a little expensive. When the Tonga reached the Raja-ki-Mandi junction, I had this funny yet romantic thought. Emperor Shahjahan might have ridden his chariot along this street in all majestic splendour, a chariot pulled by seven white horses. And here I am. A boy in his early twenties sitting as much majestically in the back seat of a Tonga eager to see Shahjahan's poetry in white marble for one last time. Finally when I reached there I heard some inner voice telling me, "This is a very divine place. This is the shrine of love. A place where one should not dare to tread". And finally when I was in, I could not believe. I was experiencing new things. The Taj was revealing to me all that I had missed during my earlier visits. It's beauty defied all description by the greatest poet. The Taj is not just a huge structure in white marble. It is the culmination of the visual expression of all the romantic beauty of the entire universe. I had this inexplicable feeling every time I was inside the Taj. I just see it and hear no sound. This is in contrast to my feelings when I am inside any other moghul wonder, for instance the nearby Agra Fort. While inside the Agra Fort, I go back in time through centuries and feel like being in Akbar's court. I hear the court musicians singing. Mostly I hear the flowing music of Sarod and Sarangi unaccompanied by Tabla. I cannot explain this that defies all reason. I went to the back of Taj and stood there looking into the Jamuna. Oh God, how much water might have flown since the Taj had "occured" on its banks? As always there were any number of visitors from India and abroad and some of them had hired tourist-guides. Even as the guides were waxing eloquent I stood there with my eyes glued to the Jamuna. And then a thunderous shout rocked me and brought me back to reality. I saw an old man standing on the banks of Jamuna down there. He had long hair and beard. He looked like a mad man. A weirdie. I could not believe when he spoke excellent fluent English. He was ridiculing the guides saying that they knew nothing about the Taj. He asked us to come down and promised us to "teach" the history of Taj. Most people laughed off the invitation and turned away. But I was struck by the sincerity and authority of his words. I remained there listening to his uninterrupted discourse on Taj. I felt like sitting in a history class. On any other day I would have gone down to "Jamuna Kinare", talked to him and quenched my curiosity.
Back in Kerala, one day I was casually going through the pages of "Manorajyam" weekly and a photograph caught my attention. Yes, it was that of the very same man I saw on the banks of Jamuna. I was taken aback reading the description of the man. Hold your breath. He was the history professor of a reputed university in India. One day he came to Taj with his wife and daughters. They spent a day joyfully there. But at the end of the day the professor gave his family members the greatest shock of their lives. He told them that they should go back and that he has decided to stay back and spend the rest of his life at the Taj. Unbelievable? I have narrated this story to so many people who heard it in disbelief. But Hari (and only Hari)told me;
"Quite possible Sir".

BULLET PROOF

Recently Hari telephoned me. His voice told me that he was on cloud nine. "Naturally", I said unto myself.He has every right to be there. The previous day he had brilliantly cleared his last hurdle to his PhD from the prestigious Indian Institute of Science, Bangalore. Yes, he had a wonderful open defence appreciated by all who attended. He has just touched the tape after the last lap of a grueling seven years at the IISc. But I had a pleasant shock when I learned of the reason for his ecstacy. He took a blissful retreat from anything academic and was on his way to Pondicherry from Chennai with some of his friends. "So what", did you ask? He along with his friends was riding a Bullet-350 and he was on the "Top of the world", a la "Carpenters". He told me that riding the magic machine at 60km/h through the ticklish drizzle was the greatest experience of his life. I felt envy for his youth and his bullet ride. For a moment I forgot that Hari was still talking to me. Fortunately for me he was too busy to keep talking to me! Probably he was in a hurry to reach the 'fluidity' of Pondicherry!! I had a bullet ride down the memory lane. In 1983 when I decided to buy an Enfield, I was told by M/S Marickar Motors at Kottayam that I can book one and may get delivery after six months; a neat four less than the "expectation value". I talked to my friend George Varghese alias George Kutty (herein after called GK). He is usually one with a problem for any solution. But this time he came up with a solution to my problem. He suggested going to Tamilnadu and riding back on the back of a brand new bullet. We went to Thirunelveli, bought one for Rs 15000 and started our ride back. GK proclaimed that I being a novice at bullet shall be the pillion rider. Nobody says no to him. We started our ride one evening and reached Mavelikara on the early hours of 18 August 1983. On reaching home GK proclaimed that he was going to his place Kumbanad on the bullet and that he shall come back after a week. And a hapless Mr. I remained a meek spectator to GK riding off with the "For Registration" sticker on the back number plate. I wanted to say no, but then nobody says no to the mercurial GK. He kept his word and came back after a week of majestic ride through the streets of Kumbanad. And there after...... for 17 long years.......the four stroke Thermodynamics at it's romantic splendour remained mine and mine alone. In 17 years I rode it over 3 lakh kilometers and just once at 100km/h on the NH-47. Those days, whenever it was raining, I used to go out on my bullet with no rain coat and helmet. With the speedometer reading constant at 40 and with Kishore Kumar numbers like "Deevana Leke Aaya hai" or "Yeh Shaam Mastani" on my lips, it used to be a soft sweet sail over the road rather than a ride. The four stroke beats resonating with the falling rain drops used to be an experience beyond description.
It was during the mid eighties that the Indian roads were flooded with 100 cc buikes manufactured in India with Japanese collaboration. I remember the Hero Honda ad "Fill it. Shut it. Forget it". Yes, 80 km/litre was unbelievable those days. They offered very fast pick up, easy riding and a host of other new features. Then Enfield India came with a small ad "Toys are for children. Men need bullet". True indeed. That's why men like Hari ride only Bullet even 25 years after the first 100 cc onslaught. Many say that we Bullet community is prejudiced. Yes indeed, we are. But then, this is no ordinary prejudice. It is RIDE AND PREJUDICE !!! Proof of the Bullet is in the riding. No rhetoric this.














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SACHIN: Just 7 short of his maiden century!!!

With the double ton at Gwalior against the formidable South Africa, Sachin has created history. As an excited commentator exclaimed,"The first man over the planet to score a double century in an ODI". And remember, this is a sequel to 4 consecutive test hundreds. With the 36 year young master blaster scoring runs at will with incredible ease, centuries have become so commonplace. Now I am looking forward to his maiden century! A century in centuries!! With 46 ODI tons and 47 test hundreds, the all time great is just 7 short of his maiden century. We have to wait for 7 more matches played by the cool headed ageless wonder!!!

love all

Dear all,
I start it at love all and hope to remain at love all!!!
Because this is no competition to score over somebody.
It was Hari who suggested writing blogs. When Pradheesh and Renjan encouraged, I thought I should. I think I will post one very soon.
So, it is love all for now and for ever.