tso's blog

Saturday, October 20, 2007

An Elegant Proof

4:25 PM

As a child, before I even knew what an engineer was, I would enter my father's workroom at home and be amazed by the blinking lights, the little blue and red cylinders and cuboids, all fitted so precisely on a pretty green board. This was a time before the common man even knew what an IC was. And there was my father, working, measuring, soldering little things to create something. I did not know what it was or even what all of it meant. I once remember him calling out to me and asking for some graph paper, a protractor and two fine-tipped felt pens of contrasting colors. A week later, when I went to the room, my crude blue school graph pad sheets were covered with fine 0.075pt red and black lines that ran amok with an organized chaos the sheet. Even then, I could see that each line meant something, that it had taken pains to derive this drawing of exquisite clarity. And even at that age, it struck me how my father had so much elegance in his work (I have worked on PCBs and I probably am not enough 10% as organized and sure of my design s as he was fifteen years ago). And at that time, I knew, he would have made an amazing scientist. That what I heard from visiting families that he was a genius, that what my mother said about him being locked up for days in a room just working on a thesis, was true.

People say scientists are haphazard, eccentric. But I disagree. The people who are clear headed usually manage to translate it onto paper. In fact, handwriting experts and well as examination paper checkers will vouch for the fact that a person's handwriting is much more defined and consistent when he is firm and sure of purpose. I also believe that it leads to less rework, better and faster ways to get to the next step and helps you find the missing part of the puzzle when the pieces you already have are well laid out. Often, with students today, they end up re-inventing the wheel or simply not being able to solve complex problems because they are not even sure of the basics.

And I think that is what today's generation lacks. We do not teach our children approach. We teach them to get at the answer. I do not know how many times I look back on my old work and wish I had been more lucid and made less havoc on those sheets of paper. It is something that translates into your notes as well. My father, as well as a friend's father (who is a doctor) have crystal clear notes, color coded, underlined, that take you from basic principles to the highest level of complexity.

I remember an incident that is attributed, I do believe, to Einstein. He said to a student who wanted to show him some work he has been working on, "Son, go from the beginning, and do slow down. I'm not that fast a thinker."

I have often found that people who are deliberate speakers, ones who take forever to pick up a subject we think we have mastered just because we've understood it, are the ones who have understood the human mind. They know to learn is to turn the concept over in your head. To form a couple of conclusions, to divert and come to the same conclusion as a sort of double proof. And we often underestimate these people.

Completely unrelated, but I do wish I would be able to write disconnected from my thoughts. I am not a plagiarist, but yes, I write after inspiration. I do wish I could write from threads of philosophy that are devoid of fragments of what is happening around me. I do believe that is true creativity, not the mere symbolism and 'art imitates life' kind of writing (esp. in Indian fiction) that is selling on the fiction stands today. This is especially true of Indian fiction. To give a trite description is not fiction, its just narration.

The day I can do that, I think I will be ready to be a writer. Maybe its good God put that dream of mine on hold. I have so much to learn.

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Monday, October 8, 2007

Sorry seems to be the Hardest word

9:01 PM

Death of a friendship is perhaps more painful when it is least painful. Because it makes you realise that you are little less emotional than you think, a little more stoic than you hoped to me. Part of this stoicism comes from my innate ability to recognize certain emotions as a result of an upcoming change, and to block it till I have the time and emotional capacity to deal with it. But what amazes me is my ability to deal with it, unblock it part by part, analyze and cope with it, by myself, quietly. It amazes me because by nature I am a pretty vocal person. I'm the kind of person who, when asked by Frasier Crane, "Do you ever have an unexpressed thought?" (ref Season2 Episode 11), replies, "No, and why should I?".

Is it a part of growing up? That not even the people closest to you will know when you encountered, blocked, stocked, unblocked and resolved a problem. All the while you keep doing life's day to days...

I'm not trying to sound like a saint. I'm shocked at myself. I truly am. And its not altogether a pleasant surprise. Because although it means I can take in more, it also means I need to express less. And sometimes, that's not a change too many friendships can handle. Especially 4 year long ones. Especially ones that were built on us dealing wth and listening to each other's problems at the end of the day, no matter how trivial. That were based on never thinking about whether one should bother the others with such a trivial bout of emotion

But that's what it is right. It's just emotion.

Too many times, I give in just because its easier, not because I was wrong. This time, I won't give in to the other party's definition of a mistake. I won't feel guilty for not sharing emotions that run too deep for me to even admit to myself, for not justifying my sudden absence with remedial actions. I won't try and explain that what they think I feel and the limitations what they think I understand about them, both are being limited by their vision. I don't owe anyone a statement of how I feel. I decide if I want to share it. There is such a thing as private grief.

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