Amusing Anecdotes with Scientists (ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಿಗಳೊಡನೆ ರಸನಿಮಿಷಗಳು)

My father, J R Lakshmana Rao, wrote a book called ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಿಗಳೊಡನೆ ರಸನಿಮಿಷಗಳು (vijnAnigaLoDane rasanimiSagalu) - a collection of humorous anecdotes involving scientists. It was a great success and saw at least seven reprints.

At my father's suggestion, I have translated that book and here is a sample of three incidents.

Mr. Ramamurthy, the great cartoonist famous through his Mr. Citizen cartoons for the Deccan Herald created brilliant cartoons as illustrations for the book. 

The way it came about itself is interesting. A friend of my father, who knew Mr. Murthy, requested him to provide the illustrations. Like the true artist that he was, he had to be coaxed and finally agreed to provide some ten illustrations. He had to be provided the pictures of some of the lesser well known (to him) scientists so that he could draw using them as reference.

The anecdotes apparently caught his fancy and he ended up doing 52 cartoons that enhanced the book immensely! 

I am looking for a publisher to take up the publication of the English version. Anyone interested may please contact me. Suggestions are welcome too!

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    

The Boy who Would not Let Read

If you are asked to name the three greatest mathematicians of all times, it is difficult to leave out the name of Karl Friedrich Gauss, the German mathematician, physicist and astronomer who lived during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

As a professor at Göttingen for many years, he brought name and fame to the university. His mathematical acumen was recognised from his childhood. He was a child prodigy.

Gauss’ father was an assistant to a civil contractor. He had the habit of sitting in the courtyard of his house and doing all his paper work. He was sitting there one payday and was paying the labourers their weekly wages. He called out the name and mentioned the wage paid to each labourer. Then he noted it down in a ledger. After every one was paid, he totalled up the wages. He read out the numbers aloud while he did so. When he finished the list and wrote down the total, Gauss who was playing in the yard said, “Your total is wrong. It falls short by eighty-three Marks.” The surprised father did the addition again and found that the child was right. Gauss was just a toddler of three at that time.

A few years later the boy started going to school. One day the teacher was in no mood to teach but could not let the students off. He hit upon an idea to keep the students busy. He asked the boys to write down all the numbers from1 to 200 and add them up. He was sure that this would keep them busy for quite some time. He then settled down to read a novel, sure of an hour of peace and quiet. To make sure, he added, “No mistakes! Once you are finished, check it all again.”

            He had not read even half a page when Gauss stood up and said, “Sir, the answer is 20,100”, and the answer was right. The teacher, in shock, asked, “How did you do it so fast?”

            Gauss said, “I used the formula”:       (n × (n +1)) ÷ 2

                                                            = (200 × (200 +1)) ÷ 2

                                                            = 20100

         

            “Who taught you the formula?”, wailed the teacher.

            “I arrived at it myself”, said the boy.

            “When?!”

            “Just now”, said the little imp.

Ah! That Elusive Word . . . .

A student of Norbert Wiener, the renowned mathematician and father of Cybernetics, had great admiration for him. But, he had not had an opportunity to talk to him. One morning, when the student went to the Post Office, Wiener was there. He was looking intently at a sheet of paper on the desk. The student, being an ardent admirer, saw immense concentration in that look. He did not know if he could talk to him. Wiener suddenly left the paper, walked to the opposite wall, stood there for a moment and returned to the paper and started staring at it again. The admirer still did not know if he could talk to him. Wiener left the paper again but, this time, walked directly towards the admiring student. Now he had to, at least, greet him. He did. “Good morning Professor Wiener”, he said. A smile broke out on the face that was so serious until then. He stopped, stared at the student for a moment. He then slapped hisforehead and exclaimed, “Ah! It is Wiener. Isn’t it? I just could not recall that elusive word, however hard I tried. Thanks!” He now returned to the paper and continued filling the form. 

Different points of view

When the first experimental nuclear explosion was carried out in a desert in New Mexico, all the scientists and officials connected with the atomic bomb project had gathered in a safe place, a good distance away from the explosion site, to witness the test. Both Leslie Groves, a two star general, who was the military director of the project and Robert Oppenheimer, the scientific director of the project, were there.

A newspaper reporter, awed by the explosion, asked Oppenheimer, “What did you see?” A perturbed Oppenheimer replied, “….the end of the world”.

The reporter asked the two star general the same question. “The third star”, was the prompt reply.

Not a Question, a Statement

Paul Dirac was notorious for his extreme taciturnity. Once he gave a talk in an American university. At the end of the talk, the chairman invited questions from the audience. Someone got up and said, “I did not understand such and such in your talk” and sat down. Dirac sat comfortably without saying anything. Everyone was curious and after sometime even uncomfortable. The chairman asked rather hesitantly, “Prof. Dirac, could you please answer that question?” 

“That was not a question but, a statement of fact” replied Dirac nonchalantly.

*

You were so slim

elegantly simple

like the letter aliph,

as the arabs say.

You did so much 

with so little, 

ignored often, you

never complained

You stood for 

lingusitic unity

not the hard

mathematical one.

You bestowed space

breathing and personal,

granted me choice - 

nothing was final.

Sentences swirl around me

I miss a quiet presence

singular, ethereal

indefinite article 'a'.

* Bidding Adieu to the Indefinite Article in Modern Indian English




"I have sent you one mail", messages a friend. "Yesterday I saw one movie", informs a colleague.  A kannaDiga youngster comments with disdain, "he is one fellow" - translating "ಅವನೊಬ್ಬ" directly.

The more I hear conversations and read mails and messages, the more I miss the indefinite article, and hence this Adieu.

The Woman

1981. It was a cold winter morning in Mysore. The unseasonal rains, in December, had made it colder. The Bay of Bengal had a depression. (Time someone took it to a psychiatrist, or vice versa, don't you think?) That was causing these grey stratus clouds drizzle down on you relentlessly. 

I had recently taken up a job in Mysore after short stints at Ranchi and Bombay. I had a Suvega (a moped) to commute to work. I also had a new raincoat - the same vintage as the moped. I wore the raincoat and started my moped and started off for work, riding through deserted streets. I felt good - so committed I am. I felt brave - thumbing my nose at the cold and the rain and here I was off to work.

My ego suffered quite a puncture. The streets were deserted, did I say? Yes, except one girl on a bicycle! I often  passed her pedalling briskly to work on normal days. I had to see her today? There she was, pedalling more briskly, in a white sari with a blue border, holding the handle with her left hand and an umbrella in the other.

Lalbagh Spring

The sketch club, Pencil Jammers, of which I am a member, had its weekly jam session at Lalbagh. In the throes of spring-summer it is a sight to behold, The first tree we observed, or we could not ignore, is called the Pride of India, seen below.

We went close to the tree and enjoyed it from all angles. The authorities have helpfully put up a board to educate the public about the tree. We were in for a shock. Starting from the very first line, there are so many errors that there is no way you can rely on anything that is on the board. So, to me, the board is useless. (click on the pic to see it bigger and more  clearly)

Take a look. ದಾಸದಾಳ? Krushova? President of USSR? 


Obviously it was Nikita Khrushchev. He never was the president of USSR. Actually there was no such post during his time. The only posts he held were  First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and Chairman of the Council of Ministers = Premier.

These boards must have cost a lot of the tax-payers' money and we get practically nothing in return. (That is peanuts compared to many other monies ill spent, but...)

Will someone take a look and get these corrected?

Now forget all that and enjoy the lovely sights, from the pictures below. Better still, go to Lalbagh as soon as possible and see with your own eyes. Soon the flowers will be fallen and you have to wait a year before you can enjoy them again. 

There is one more interesting picture that stupid Blogger interface insists on rotating on uploading. 

Goodbye Dr. Avid

Dance is one art form I never really learnt to appreciate although I have enjoyed individual performances once in a while. 

Decades ago, I attended a dance recital in the Open Air Theatre of the Mysore University. The artiste was Sanjukta Panigrahi, accompanied by her husband Raghunath Panigrahi’s impressive singing. 

It was a very good performance and once in a while, I found an appreciative “ah” escaping me. The sheer beauty of her footwork matching the beats of the percussion while her torso did an elegant twist, her arms essayed a graceful glide, her hands assumed a Mudra that even my uneducated mind could not only grasp but gasp at – all in a thrilling moment of time, gone forever.

My relationship with cricket is very similar to that with dance, even though I have played gully cricket when in school, straddled with the nickname Loyd* since I wore glasses, where the similarity to the big cat ended. My appreciation of the game is at about the same level as that of my appreciation of dance. I have even rejoiced, often, when the Indian cricket team lost a series or a tournament, only with the hope that one billion odd people would consider other sports for entertainment. The team has been showing such exceptional consistency at losing, in recent times, that depresses even me.

Similar to Sanjukta, Dravid has made an appreciative “ah” escape me by playing one or two of his famous shots. I do not know the names of those shots but the sheer beauty of a lean white clad figure, set in an emerald background, shuffling backwards on his feet while he rises on his toes, his body leaning backwards in perfect poise, the arms and gloved hands moving fluidly down and away and the cherry racing to the 1 O’clock boundary. You know what I mean. You probably even know the name of this shot if you are anywhere near a typical Indian. There are two other shots that have done the same thing to me.

I am thankful to Rahul Dravid for those moments as I am to Sanjukta Panigrahi for those unforgettable moments.

His dapper looks, impeccable behavior, self deprecating humour - never threatening to be mistaken for false modesty and lastly his records, only added to the background in which those shots could be appreciated for their beauty intuitively.

* For those who know less about cricket than I do, it was Clive Loyd, from the West Indies, who was the only cricketer then that wore glasses. He appeared to be a lumbering gentle giant with feline grace and there was nothing gentle about the way he dispatched the ball all over the park

The Miracle that was Not

I recently watched an episode of Sherlock Holmes in the BBC serial. Holmes in today's world. Benedict Cumberbatch as Holmes and Martin Freeman as Watson have done an excellent job.

In this episode, caught in the excitement of the case, Watson forgets his limp and the walking stick and is cured. 

There is also a reference to his analyst who is treating him for intermittent shaking in his hands and has diagnosed it as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Sherlock's brother Mycroft Holmes diagnoses it as the result of Watson's addiction to action he experienced in Afghanistan!

If Holmes were to be in India, he would be deified, I am sure. 

A friend had once told me the story of a man who had lost his legs and was  wheelchair dependent.

This man heard of a healer somewhere in Karnataka and came all the way from Kerala to seek a cure. The healer took a look at the man, examined him and asked a lot of questions and asked the man to stand up. What? Yes, he was asked to stand up and the healer helped the man up. When his family members came forward solicitously to assist, they were shooed away. Miracle Miracle. The man stood up. Of course he had some difficulty but the healer would not hear of it. 

Then he told the patient that there was nothing wrong with him and that others were making him believe that he could not walk.

Then he asked the patient to get going. Fees? Nothing. "I did not treat him at all. He is perfectly OK. So where is the question of a fee?"

When the patient started walking slowly to the car they had come in, again the family members tried to help him but were strictly forbidden from doing so. 

If I remember right, my friend told me that he had accompanied the family as he was also from Kerala. I can't check since the friend is sadly no more. I can't get the details of the man either.

The healer was a simple man, in a dhoti and shirt. The place where he saw patients was also very simple and no fancy stuff at all. He was not after money, I am told and borne out by the above story.

So, what is the point of all this?

Not much perhaps but something very important. When something seemingly miraculous happens, you do not have to conclude that a miracle did happen. You may at least suspend your belief.

Especially when such a thing happens with a lot of fanfare and razzle dazzle you can be sure that you are being taken for a ride. Benny Hin's visit to Bangalore comes to mind. There was this funny incident when he touched Deve Gowda, the former prime minister and the then chief of Karnataka Police. Many others he touched had all collapsed and there were members of his entourage and volunteers to catch them. They were at the ready for these two too. They need not have wasted their efforts. These two stood like rocks. 

aPaulogy - a Gallery of the Works of Paul Fernandes

I visited it last Saturday and it was a great start to a week's holiday. 

Paul's works on display are a curious and delightful mixture of cartooning and watercolour painting. Each work has elements of both in greater or smaller measure. Added colour is the word play and a fund of badly or wrongly written signboards collected with a keen eye.

One of the best things about this gallery is the way it has been arranged. Superb - is the word. It can not be described - it has to be seen, experienced. DO not miss the miniature Pianos made by Paul - both uprights and a grand.

My recommendation: Go see it, enjoy it and have a grand time! 


It is open from 11 am to 7.30 pm on weekdays and Saturdays. 


Address:

15 Clarke Road (Opposite Au Bon Pain) Richards Park Entrance, Richards Town, Bangalore - 560 005.

Here are some pictures I took.

The Power

On a recent short holiday, a whole evening was spoiled by Ayyappa. I mean, Ayyappa's devotees. At the very edge of the reserve forest they have built a small temple. (In that setting, at dusk and dawn, with all the oil lamps lit, it is a beautiful sight I must admit, almost reluctantly.) and from 6 to 9   in the evening, the loudspeakers were blaring out the typical, sadistically monotonous Ayyappa songs. One particular song which has "kallum mullum" in it in the first few lines is really kallum mullum to my ears. In spite of it, long after even the devotees had had enough and left, the song was going through my mind in an endless loop- it just wouldn't leave me. A perfect earworm.

(Ayyappa, is also called Shasta or Dharmashasta - claiming that he preserved/interpreted (or something, I really do not know) the dharma shastras for this world. I am sure the shastras did not have anything that said, "thou shalt not cause harm and alarm to wild beings, who are also the creation of the supreme being, peace be upon him, especially in or close to their natural habitat" - ah that is a unification of three major world religions in one sentence.) 

When I related this incident to an Ayyappa devotee, he half earnestly said that it was an earworm because it was the power of god in general and Ayyappa in particular.

Then came Kolaveri di.

Pandit Vijaya Raghav Rao - A Multi Faceted Genius

Pt. Vijaya Raghav Rao, a flutist I admired a lot, passed away recently. I came to know about it yesterday and here is a small tribute to him.

He is prominent among the long list if South Indians who made a name in and contributed to the field of Hindustani music. 

If I remember right, I heard him first on a AIR Radio Sangeet Sammelan. Later, I realised that music for most of the Films Division documentaries at that time was composed by him. On the rare occasions I saw a movie, I would look out for the credits to these documentaries and I would have guessed if the music was indeed his or someone else. Even in a field like that, his refined sense and distinctive style were recognisable - not an easy task.

While I was researching on the net for this post, I found that he was the music coordinator for the film Gandhi by Attenborough, he composed music for Mrinal Sen's "Ek Adhoori Kahani" and "Bhuvan Shome", among others, and that there is a movie on him, (made by his son?), called My Father: An Artist.

Sometime ago, I sketched a portrait of this sensitive musician and I post it here in tribute to him.

Beware of these "Slippers"

Look at the sole of this bathroom / household / Hawai slippers.

Its "designer" must have contributed to the financial well-being of orthopaedics and pharmacists at great risk to life and limb of people.


You wear a pair of these and step on water on smooth floor (not the rough road is what I mean) and hey presto!, you are horizontal on the floor. The sole has pyramid shaped depressions. When your weight falls on the slipper, the air trapped in the depressions must somehow escape. When it does you become a "hovercraft" and the foot does not get any grip.


So, before you buy a pair of slippers (What a perfect name in this case!), watch out for the sole. Avoid those with this feature like the plague! If you have a pair at home like this, cut them and throw them away. If I am not mistaken, even Bata sells a model like this, in India.


There may be other such designs. If you look at the soles, you will be able to see if air could be trapped somewhere. 


So beware!

Neither Legal Nor Logical

A friend sent me the following joke, in German, from Germany, by e-mail.


A student failed in Logic and Organisation examination.


Student: You have failed me in the examination. But do you really understand anything yourself?

Professor: Of course I do! If not, I would not be a professor.

Student: OK, then. I will ask you something. If you give me the right answer, I will just go away. If you cannot, you have to give me 60% marks.

Professor: Agreed.

Student: What is legal but not logical, logical but not legal and neither logical nor legal.


The professor thought a long time and gave the student 60% marks and went away.


He then called his best student and asked him the same question.


The stduent answered right away: You are 63 but married to a 35 year old lady. It is legal but not logical. She has a 25 year old paramour. That is logical but not legal. That you gave 60% marks to your wife's lover when he had failed is neither legal nor logical!






Now, it continues, I ask you the same question. 


No idea? Here is a good answer then:


It is legal that we sit here and work, but not logical. It is logical that we mail each other such jokes but not legal. It is neither legal nor logical that we get paid for it!


I hope my bosses do not read my blog!

Lookout!

Click on the image to see larger

Read more about it here

Pulling My Own Leg

We have an in-house magazine. It is called The Big PICture. The last issue was a humour special. I contributed the article reproduced below. I have made some additions to it.


****** 


A sense of humour is not just about enjoying a joke, especially when the target is someone other than you. Here are some I have pulled on myself or really good ones pulled on me by others.


I had some ear problems. I went to the ENT specialist. He was a serious, gentle and thoughtful man. He put me on the examination chair, peered into my ear with an Otoscope. I felt that he was peering right into the innards of my head. After some serious and concentrated peering, he took the instrument out and said thoughtfully, as if talking to himself, “There is nothing organic”. I asked him with a disappointed look, “Not even a cabbage?”. I had to wait quite some time before he could recover from his laughter and give me a prescription.


I joined Philips 9 years ago and after a couple of months a friend came to visit me at work. We chatted for a while and he asked me what my department was called. Intellectual Property and Standards, I told him with some not inconsiderable pride. His question, with a dead pan expression, was, “What work do you have there, then?”


This friend and I worked together earlier. In that place, drinks were served at your desk twice a day. Before or after that, you could not get anything to drink for love or for money. You gave a coupon, worth 15 Paise, (Ya, I do mean 15 Paise) to the tea boy and he gave you a steel tumbler full of the drink of your choice – well coffee or tea. We two hosted the morning drink for all hands on a particular day of the year and called it our birthday – spiritual birthday. The first of April.


I have very low tolerance for alcohol. One glass of beer and I feel light headed. (It is economical, isn’t it? Alas, I can’t brag like some macho guys – “Eight pegs of whiskey! Nothing happens.” Why drink then? Might as well drink water, right?) The alcohol goes straight to my head, so to say. The reason? Well, could it be that “nature abhors a vacuum”?


I was in IIT Kharagpur doing my M Tech. I was known to be an analog and power electronics hardware geek, averse to software. A friend came to my room and found the book Artificial Intelligence in my room. “How come?”, he asked me expressing surprise. “I have no natural intelligence of my own. I was wondering if this helps!” was my reply.


Just the other day, I took my wallet out of my pocket and a comb fell out. My impudent son exclaimed, “Oh! You carry a comb!”


Recently I lost my old mobile. My sons insisted on my buying a smart phone. I have a gnawing suspicion that they wanted something smart about their dad!


The best thing about pulling your own leg periodically is that it hurts less when others do! On a more serious note, it saves your head from being filled with hot air and hence prevents people from laughing at you and makes them laugh with you.




*******


The article ended with this self (pen) portrait:


About the Author: Anil is an electronics engineer engaged in the serious business of protecting Intellectual Property of the company. His hobbies include writing blogs (quite a different cup of tea from writing patent specifications), visual arts (sketching, watercolour painting), music (Veena), poetry (Kannada) and so on, all of which he takes seriously! 

Advertisement in Bad Taste?

THis is my opinion. Do you think so too?

Watch this "funny" video.

You perhaps see the absurdity of it and think that it happens in "some strange, uncultured country? What kind of logic is this? One way to settle scores with a man is to hurt an unsuspecting, uninvolved innocent woman?" Or something like that?

Now see this advertisement of Airtel 3G / Facebook.  

Made by Rising Sun Films - for JWT Ad agency (Director : Shoojit Sirca, Producer : Ronnie Lahiri, DOP : Kamal Negi, Agency : JWT Delhi)

I can't beleive that a serious film maker's movie is banned in some states of this country just based on the apprehension that it hurts the sentiments of a section of society but no women's organisation raises its voice against this ad which is in such poor taste!

An Unusual Exhibtion

Last week, I attended an unusual exhibition of paintings and sketches. I had received the invitation for the event in Bangalore from the US! Long route, eh?

My friend Amrit had sent the invitation. The works were of his aunt. The exhibition was in celebration of her 80th birthday.

I did not know what to expect when I went there and was immediately captivated and impressed by the works on display. I was glad that I had received the invitation and I had decided to ride a bike half way across the city.

The best thing I can do is let you have a look at the pictures I took. Unfortunately I just missed meeting the birthday lady herself as she had just then left for home.

I must congratulate and thank the artist's daughters for organising this unusual birthday!

Spirit of Inquiry

This is the map of the roads around my home.

In spite of the road blocks in place, people drive or ride their vehicles up to the point marked X. Then they think that they can take the road to the right to reach another road. The workers and other people on the road tell these riders/drivers that this is a "dead end road", to no avail. People go to the end of the road, see that there is no way out and then turn around with great difficulty and then go back. This has been happening for days now.

It amazes me that people want to find out the truth for themselves.

I also wish that they display the same spirit of inquiry to other matters. Apparently many do not.

Recently in a newspaper published readers' questions and the answers given by dual Sri Ravi Shankar. 

The Question: Why do we get angry.

2XSri RS: Because we are perfectionists and we get angry when we do not get perfection in actions. Actions can never be 100% perfect. They can only be 95% perfect. 100% perfection can be achieved in only thought and speech.

I have tried to reproduce the above Q&A as accurately as possible. I tried to get the original but failed. 

My wish is that the readers ask some simple questions of themselves.

• What is the measure of this perfection?
• Why is only 95% perfection is possible. Is 2XSri grabbing the number out of thin air as another guru used to grab branded watches out of the same source? Or is there a basis for that number?
• What IS perfection in speech? And thought?
• How does one measure it? 
• Have we ever encountered an instance of perfect speech or perfect thought?
• Is that the only or even the true cause of our anger?
• Does the above theory help one overcome anger?

I wish the readers of his Q&A exhibit the same spirit of inquiry that many exhibit with the blocked road and the dead end road!

Prabal Mallick's Solo Exhibition

I just returned from an exhibition of watercolours by Prabal Mallick at CKP - (Chitrakala Parishat) 

I love good watercolours and Prabal's are lovely. Each of his works is  all that a good watercolour should be.

Here are some pictures from the exhibition with Prabal.

Here are more works by Prabal for you to see:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4UpsdHM9aA
http://penciljammers.com/profile/PrabalMallick
http://www.facebook.com/prabal.mallick?sk=photos
http://micheal-learns-to-paint.blogspot.com/
http://community.how-to-draw-and-paint.com/profile/PrabalMallick
http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/prabal-mallick.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/51743818@N02/

A Self_Confessed Atheist

A friend and I arrived after a 5 km long drive. We were of course talking on the way and he ended up with "You atheists put a lot of pressure on us theists". What? I told him, "On the way just now, we saw at least 10 hoardings which tried to sell you god, various brands of religions and spirituality and so on. Did you find one board trying to sell atheism? Who is putting pressure on whom?".


"But there is invisible pressure." He said. I had to retort, "You theists are used to believing in invisible, non-existent things anyway. So your accusation does not mean anything."


Even though this may sound acrimonious, it was not. All in good humour. So it was fun.


Today Ravi sent me this link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-14135523


Very funny, very interesting.


The sentence that caught my attention was the one that starts with "A self-confessed atheist, Mr Alm says....". Self-confessed? Being an atheist is no crime to confess to, surely. Self-proclaimed, self-declared will do nicely, thank you! 


You think that I am being over sensitive about this? Not at all. It is a point of diction. As Richard Dawkins says, the feminists raised our consciousness by objecting to sex bias by objecting to words like chairman, workman (and even HIStory) and so on. This is also like that. I would want to rewrite that sentence referred to earlier as: Mr Alm, an atheist, says ....


To prove a point to myself I asked a colleague if she was a self-confessed Roman Catholic. She looked at me with incredulity. QED


Now, who puts pressure on who, please?


What do you say?