Making my day

It is a strange way in which the human emotions act. I have always considered myself to be an optimist, and hopeful in the most despairing of the situations. The last few weeks, however, have been a disaster for me: I kept on feeling that my personal life is a huge fucking mess. Of course, I don't easily show it, but really, sometimes I feel that I am bursting at the seams. Mostly because I can't get to talk about the issues that bother me. You know, the relief that comes from just talking is just so palpable. There are lots of problems, and by just talking, they don't get solved. But that doesn't matter. Talking is the first step of expressing some problem, formulating it in a way so that a solution can be reached.

But strange are the ways feeling act. The moment he came up and talked to me, I could feel the palpable relief, the transformation inside me, from being politely interested to one of exuberant joy! 

Birthday and Bridges

Given that tomorrow will be my birthday, and I have decided to be rather quiet about this one, I decided to celebrate this one alone. Tomorrow is a working day, and I will be rather busy, and today was such a glorious day that I decided to take a walk by the Aare.

The Sun was bright and sunny, which is the object of this picture. Nevertheless, it was a slight chill in the air enough perhaps to keep a very light jacket on if you were wearing half-sleeved shirt (like I was -- and a new one too, given that it's going to be my birthday tomorrow!). In any case, this is a section of railing just by the Aare (I'll leave you guess in case you know Bern intimately!).

Bern is not a low-lying city, its close to 500m high; and most of the city looks down onto the Aare. And if you are walking by the Aare, like me, most of the time you'll be looking up. This gives a wonderful way to study the bridges.
People like bridges --- at least I do. They are a wonderful feat of engineering, and sometimes standing on them can give you quite a view below. There are quite a few bridges in Bern joining the parts of the city cut deep into two parts by the fast flowing Aare. While in the medieval ages it had served as a natural defense against invading enemies, now-a-days they have been stitched by these bridges. Take a look at some of them.

In the backdrop of the river and the small houses, the bright sunny sky, the cool weather, I was having a very pleasant time. It reminded me of the last birthday, spend in the Austrian Alps and in Innsbruck attending a conference. Incidentally, that was a Sunday, we had a wonderful conference lunch and followed by a nice walk down the mountain into the city of Innsbruck, and then an intense physics discussion with Uwe and Mike Creutz in a quaint bar.


Well, anyway coming back to the present, you really can't help noting certain things by the river. One was the certain stale smell of fish coming from the river -- this was a bit strange, I had never quite experienced that before in this part of the Aare. Certainly there were quite a few people fishing, though, which probably meant quite a fishes were around. At some point there was lots of gushing in the water, which made me look closely as if some big fish was sneaking up on me; but to my disappointment it turned out be some water outlet in the side of the river that was pumping out water. Another was this tower. Apart from the graphiti, this was a piece right from the Middle Ages.




The strong current of the river is often harnessed for power, I suppose -- you get to see these small embankments across the river, like this one.
Very soon the path turned a bit rocky, going over to the northern part of the city where the river twists and turns a lot. To my surprise, the road led to quite a dense wooded region -- this was already beyond Felsenau and going towards Tiefenau. It is indeed surprising that I have been here in Bern for almost two years now, and I hadn't come
along this path even once. Well, so much for that! Here is a view from in between the dense trees, looking into the river -- which you can make out by the strong reflection.

Initially, I had decided that I will walk all the way to Bremgarten, where the river turns and flows to the west, and then come to a place from where I can cross the Bremgarten forest into Bumpliz Nord and then finally to my house in Bumpliz Sud. But shortly beyond this point (as shown in the picture to the right), I decided that it was a bit too much.

                             

This is one of the fleeting decisions that I sometimes make. I promised myself that  the next time I would start from the other direction and make all the way to this point. On the way back, it was a simple matter to find the station Tiefenau and take the train back. In fact, the superb train/bus connections in Switzerland make these kind of trips really worth making.

Anyway, if you travel a bit onward, you quickly come to Worblaufen which is the kind of the north-eastern border of Bern. This is where Albert used to live. To the left is a picture taken the Friday before last, when I was visiting their place. This is one of the high bridges connecting the parts of the city to the neighborhoods dissected by the river. This is an inverted perspective from the rest of the pictures before.



Whatever happens, this is one of the birthdays I will never ever forget now! This year has been very nice to me, life has been nice to me in some ways, for which I am grateful; and not nice in certain very cruel ways, but I cannot complain about that. Certain things are too heavy to be changed, they are better accepted as they are. Well, Happy Birthday to myself!

Note added a week later: The reason for editing

is like of the  most amazing co-incidence that has
ever happened. The very next day after I finished
writing the blog was going to be my birthday. I had
ordered this, what you see to the right, several weeks
back, but it was delivered on the 23rd of September.
It was a like giving myself a birthday gift; though
I could hardly have known that it was going to be
delivered that day. :)

Yes, the picture, however was taken a week later,
to be precise yesterday: me watching the latest
South Park on my latop!

Goodbyes

Goodbyes are not really my cup of tea; which isn't saying anything much because so many people have the same feeling. This week a very good colleague, a very valuable friend, and his family, who moved out of Switzerland into Holland -- (and thankfully), for a permanent job. All the universality associated with saying goodbyes to people who are close to me, swept over me again.

Goodbyes to my school, to my college, to the Calcutta I knew, to TIFR, and smaller, more personal, sometimes more deeper ones scattered on the way in time. Of course, there was during August a much more deeper goodbye said, to a feeling -- an invisible one, a one that is really complex. But, I digress: what is the use of trying to describe a goodbye to something which I will never be able to describe.

Goodbyes, perhaps, shouldn't be said, at least to good things. But then there you are, powerless against forces greater than you are, which orchestrate things that you don't want, that force you to say goodbyes to things that you didn't want to.

Goodbyes can sometimes be so sour, either because the new Hello is sour or simply you were too attached to the past to say the new Hello properly. In anticipation, some people just hide the goodbye with an occupation. Like I did a couple of times. In August. In 2011 when I left Mumbai.

Goodbye, I wonder how it will be when I have to leave Bern ...

Goodbye for now!

More trysts with Visas

The last time I wrote such a blog was when I was applying for the Schengen visa to Italy. It was 2010 and I was aiming to attend the Lattice 2010 conference in Sardinia.
It is 2013 now, and I am trying to fly to the US, to visit MIT and Duke. I live in Switzerland now. You'd have thought (or rather no: maybe you're smarter, and I am still dumb; so let's say, I'd have thought) that things would be much easier. The official wait times for processing the US visa from the Embassy at Bern at time of the year is 3-days. In the website, in the FAQ section they say that at peak periods it is about ~2 weeks.
I had my visa interview at the Embassy on the 31st Jan. The US consular officer who took my interview was quite optimistic that I would get the visa in 2-3 weeks time. This is my second visit to the US. (Never mind that last time I got issued a one-year visa, which expired at the beginning of this month, forcing me to apply once again. In the meantime the visa fees went up from CHF 125 to CHF 160).
It is the fourth week now, and I am anxiously counting my days. I am supposed to fly at the beginning of next week, and if things don't work out, I stand to lose hundreds of dollars (or even thousand the whole transatlantic flight has to be cancelled as well). Not to mention a most wonderful academic and research opportunity.
All the same, it seems that there is nothing I can do. Calls do not reveal any information, their emails replies are most unhelpful, ending in wishing me to have a lovely day, when in reality, I'm biting my nails off my fingers. Out of sheer desperation I am writing this blog. To have my feelings written down somewhere so that I can recall them later.

Not Proud

You know, there have been things I've done about which I am not proud. Two such things suddenly hit back on me suddenly. Two promises. Nothing life-changing, but small ones.

The first one was during the trip to Jaisalmer. We went out to see the sand dunes early in the morning. It was freezing cold in the desert; and it was long before I had become accustomed to cold that I can bear now. In any case, there were some local people waiting for us with camels. There were a couple of small boys as well with them. Small, that is, around 10 years of age. While we went on camels, they walked on the sand. And there we were on the dunes, before the sun, watching the sun come up, while these people stuck up a fire, warming their hands in it. I still have their pictures. I promised them, that when I went back, I would take the pictures on paper, and send them a copy. I do not remember now if I wrote down the address. While the pictures remain on my social networking sites, showing off to the cool desert places I've been to, no trace of the address or the pictures on paper remain. A promise that I had ignored, or simply waited long enough to forget. The only comfort that I have from the trip is that before saying bye to those small boys, I gave one of them my pair of gloves. I was going back to warm Mumbai, I didn't need them anyway.

The second one was much more dear. It was the trek to Roopkund. And it was scary, for me. There was snow all over, and I was scared stiff, and slipping all the way. I did make my way as much as the group, as high as possible. And then came back. Safe and sound. Only thinner. And promised the guides that would never forget them. Promised as usual to send photographs. And as usual did not send them. I wonder if they remember us at all. Every week there are adventurous tourists, trying to hike up. Do they remember all of us? But this thought, is just an excuse not to fill my promise. If I did take the printout and send them pictures, then they would definitely have remembered. And this time there wasn't anything I could give them, and later feel happy about it. Only their pictures remain in Google+, reminding me of the promise which I never fulfilled.

It must be well over several months since I wrote anything. As usual, lots of things change; many things happen: you get to know more people, see more movies, read more books, visit more places, get a little more experience than you had before, manage to lose a little more of innocence you had. Basically you get a little bit older.

As I sit today in my office, pouring over some some equations and trying to make sense out of them, with the snow having covered well nigh everything outside, I suddenly realize the things I am missing. Around this time, by Indian reckoning, about two years before, I would typically make a visit to the BEST canteen near the TIFR in Mumbai. And then I know now, two years from now, I will be somewhere else thinking about my time here, missing the routine things I do here, my friends and colleagues here.

And such is life.

From the mountains to the lakes via the valleys

It almost sounds like the title out of fairytale, but believe me: it's true; at least whatever the modern version of the tale might be. Yes, it's in Switzerland. As a last ditch effort to do something useful today, I will try to write a bit about my adventures in Switzerland.

This small, but very unique country in the whole of Europe, is to a large extent occupied by the Alps. That is, most of the southern part. Covered by some of the highest mountains in the Alps, fairytalish valleys and breath-taking views, it offers unique hiking opportunities. The northern part of the country is among the most densely populated regions in Europe with a very high development and production index. I could write a lot about this unique place, but probably it's best understood by reading the book "Swiss Watching" by Diccon Bewes, an Englishman who lives in Bern. The book is written with a strong flavour of typical British humour, which I must admit honestly, I enjoyed very much. Anyway, to have a nice introduction to the country, I'll leave you to read that. Let me however just stress an aspect that I really like about Switzerland. It's the only country in Europe where you'll find the cohabitation of two of Europe's biggest cultural traditions: the Germans and the French. While the traditions can be typically French or German, this doesn't mean at all they identify with each of the big neighbours. They're all Swiss, and that's what sets them apart.

Let's just start out by saying I live in Bern, which is in the plain lands, or should I say flatland? That makes me a flatlander, huh? A couple of weeks back, some friends of mine from Dresden visited me (ah yes, the Dresden visit, I should write about that wonderful city in another post, but let's just go on here). It was with them that I saw Basel, the cultural capital of Switzerland. Many people just think of Zurich to be the cultural capital, and that's it. But no, its true and yet its not true. Zurich is probably the cultural capital if you all want to be hip and happening, go to rock concerts, nightclubs, meet all the people of the people of the world and so on; but if you want to go to museums, and act cultural that way, then Basel is definitely the place for you. In fact, this week Basel had the world art exhibition.
Basel is also the pharmaceutical capital, with a home for the pharmaceutical companies. It's also the head office of Coop, the second biggest supermarket chain of Switzerland.

Now, now: I am supposed to just talk about my experiences, not go about making general statements, but I do feel a little bit of background is in order. So that was about Basel. About Bern now. Bern is the fourth biggest city of Switzerland (after Zurich, Geneva and Basel). It is the political capital, and a very wonderful and lively city. Especially on Saturdays if you go and visit the old town! The old town in Bern is a lot bigger than that in Basel, and looks really oldish. Compared to that, I found Basel old town to be modern! The trams in Basel are also the oldish ones, like the ones that you get to see in Wein. We walked about quite a bit in and around Basel to start with. The museum we went to see was the Kunstmuseum -- they were having a Renoir exhibition as well at that time. The museum was nice with lots of paintings from different areas, that took us about two hours to navigate. It was a Friday on the end of May, and the weather was the hottest we've had till then, with the sun absolutely burning down. Then after a light lunch in the old town, we went to Munster and the Rathaus. Our visit ended by taking a stroll down the banks of the Rhine, after we crossed across the MittleBrucke. It was a warm day, as I remarked before, and not a single sitting bench beneath the shadows were free.

By the time we had battled the rush hour on the train and reached Bern it was already cool: and the Eiger, the Monach and the Jungfrau were staring us on the face! Interestingly enough, the building of the Albert Einstein Centre, where I work, is on top of the Grosse Schanze, and it offers an unrestricted view of the mountains, and the city. This warm day, however, attracted some pretty dark clouds overnight, and from early next day it was raining: quite a disappointment for me, since I was expecting to show the lively city to my friends! It was not that bad, though: the rains and the sun in the month of May had spawn green all over the city, and, the view from the backyard of the Munster across the Aare on to the rising slopes of Gurten, our local mountain here in Bern, is indeed remarkable. Now, here comes a twist in the tale: you'd have thought that with the rains pouring down, the usual tourist would be confined to the hotel, or a cafe. Nuh, thats the what Bern is really good at. The whole old town is covered in arcades, and you can move under them while window-shopping all the time. C'mon now, how many of you really don't want to look at something nice? Lots of watches out there, in case that interests you. In fact, we got to see some designer clocks, which are so simple conceptually, but I really haven't seen the likes of those anywhere. So, even though it was all rainy and cold, we managed to have a decent time.

At the very end of the old town we went and looked at the bears. Thankfully, it was only drizzling now, and the bears were still out! What I was completely taken aback by was that on that very Saturday, Bern was holding its Grand Prix, the 16km marathon. Too bad it was raining all day, it must have been a bad day for the runners. I was taken aback because I hadn't realized that this event was coming up, -- and normally I am not totally shut-up from whats happening around me. With all this done, and having had a late lunch of rosti (and believe me the day was cold enough to warrant it!), we decided that we might as well go up to the Gurten. This however turned out to be quite a different experience from what I have had before: see the last two times I went up, it had been pretty clear: this day was completely different. First of all, since we didn't have time, we took the funicular all the way up (th Gurten Bahn). Once up there, it was completely covered by fog, you couldn't even see things 5 metres away, and it was completely deserted. So there we spend time in the foggy hill, all by ourselves, went up on the viewing tower, again all by ourselves, shivered in the cold, and came down. It was a different experience, to be sure, but I was keeping my fingers crossed for the day after -- since it was to be the great trip to the mountains.

Once back from Gurten, and on the way home, I was really happy to see a bright western sky: the clouds were lifting. The morrow would be safe! Thats all folks, for today: I have talked about the plains. Watch out for the mountains and the lakes in the next post!

Goodbye Seattle

I am bad at saying good-byes; meaning I say them well in front of people maybe without so much of emotion as I mean them. Today was no different. Initially, when I landed in Seattle, I had decided that I was not going to like the place as much as I do Switzerland. The weather was bad; -- it was raining, public transportation wasn't as good...Many of the places we went to for food (specially the first night) was exorbitantly expensive. Even I tried to argue that the coffee was better in Bern.
But it's only that much. It was my initial hesitation in accepting change that was saying all that. As time went on, I am glad to say that I could see beyond all this, feel the culture of the city, the culture of America; and why you should never compare beer with wine! I already wrote about all that in my last post.
Well, anyway. I just have to add a couple of things before I finally say goodnight and go to sleep (.... I have to wake up at 5 AM tomorrow morning). The first one is the Columbia Center, also serving as the Bank of America building. The tallest building in the Seattle skyline, (about twice as tall as the Space Needle), you would see it's huge, but you would not really realize it's SO HUGE until you go all the way up and then look down. I have heard so many arguments of my sophisticated friends against the skyline of the US cities rendered ugly by the skyscrapers; but today, all these arguments really turned to water when I was up on top of the building and looked down at the cityscape, the landscape around it, the lakes and then finally the mountains beyond. There is something in beauty that defies all arguments...
The second thing is the University of Washington campus. A sprawling one, I've often wondered what it would be like to play Treasure Hunt in there. Again, it is here, that I have had the chance to observe the American University students life, albeit from a distance. It is something I have seen so many movies about, wondered so much about; but this is the closest to which I have experienced it. It would have been fun if I was here as a student: going out with friends to the University street on a Friday night for a cheap dinner of Thai food followed by a couple of beers in a local alehouse. Fun, eh? The campus has it's own charms, old buildings shrouded in tall trees, grassy lawns, cherry trees in full blossom in spring, the vitality of youth everywhere,...

...anyway, Goodbye Seattle. Hope to see you again soon!

Sleepless in Seattle

This wasn't exactly a title that I thought would have ever applied to me: but nine hours of jet-lag have made this possible. It worked its black magic on me this whole week, making me get up at the middle of the night all the time!
So, ... Seattle is the first American city I had a chance to witness ever since I went to see the Downtown today. The culture is quintessentially American, with people being jolly and friendly with perfect strangers, waitresses cheerfully calling out over the distance if the food is all right, or if you want something more. It's been quite a pleasure to have been here. Since I don't have anything specific to say, maybe I'll just summarize stuff like a travelogue.
First, the food. Sea food seems to be a specialty of Seattle. Not surprising. In addition, there are numerous places in the University street offering various kinds of food, starting from a very delicious veg buffet to spicy Indian food. While you can get yourself decently fed within $12; things can easily go up to $25 with Indian food, $40 with specialty Sushi or sea-food.
Downtown Seattle was also fascinating. I would never even dream of comparing it with any of the European cities -- Seattle (and indeed probably most American cities) have their own culture, very unique and very distinct from anything the world has ever produced. You will start by noticing people from all the corners of the world, followed by all the kinds of cuisines possible (and indeed, I had the honor of eating piroshky from a Russian bakery shop -- traditionally I think it's called Pirozhki --- which seemed extremely popular with a long queue of people, and drinking coffee from the first Starbucks shop). Then of couse, the usual blend of Indian -- Chinese -- Sushi -- going all the way to Arabian and African. But then that is expected too. And it is America, so there has to huge tall skyscrapers, nobody beats them at it. Skyscrapers have their own charm -- I have lived in Mumbai for 6 years, and am no stranger to them; but of course, they were nowhere like the ones in the US. Their magic worked on me...
And yes, chocolates ... Americans are sometimes strangely innovative, that other people would have never thought of. I have lived for some time now in Switzerland, the land of chocolate, but I have never seen marshmallows dipped in chocolate,  bretzels in chocolate, whole apples dipped in chocolate and with mouth-watering outer chocolate layers. That was really something -- a quick taste of marshmallow coated chocolate and a marzipan dipped in chocolate to break my fast!
The Seattle Art Museum was also nice in its own way, but nothing really striking --- there was a painting of Puget Sound bay that completely swept me off. It was an invitation to the American settlers to come West. And there was another one of Nigara falls aimed at proclaiming the power and the beauty of the newest continent. There was a collection of paintings exploring how remarkable the effects of focusing light on a paining can point out the theme of a painting -- there was a picture of Nurse Irene tending a wounded St Sebastian, and there was another nurse showing light on the wound; and the very act brings out the tenderness of the action of tending a wounded.
I suppose that is it for tonight --- I don't think I can think of anything more to say!

It was wonderful weather today. It usually is. It usually has been for the past two weeks. An perfectly heavenly spring, when you want to forget everything about work and sit in the sun, and talk, -- and have fun. I walked back from work today, -- got out a bit early than usual, since was not feeling like working, and then instead of taking the tram or the train, decided to walk back. The University is in the center of the town, very close to the old town of Bern, and the place where I live is in the westernmost part of the city. I've never walked back before, but today I did.
And I felt the sorrow. Not the persistent one that knocks, and bothers you; but the one so deep, so meaningless, and so mild, that you would not be able to express it. Evening is really powerful. I could explain all the three adjectives that I used to describe it, but I choose not to --- characterizing the feeling in any set of words would not only miss the point, but would be wholly inadequate. 

There is too much misery in this world --- let's spare the one over trivial misunderstandings. 

Identification

Today I felt sad. Why? A very common reason --- some series which I used to watch with quite a bit of interest had one of the characters killed! Oh, that's preposterous -- I hear you say -- it's just some cooked up fiction, for God's sake.

Really? Maybe it is. But it is so much more -- much so much more. I don't need to emphasize how much. Do you know, years back -- it's more than a decade by now (ah, how the time flies!), when I used to write a diary, I wrote something about these stories, movies, serials, ..., whatever all there is. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something like this: Real life ups and downs, happiness and sadness, ..., are all either over-dramatized, or under-dramatized (really, the director has a flavor for dramatization, hasn't he?) or just adequate (wow, I hear somebody say, just the one who should win a prize..) versions of what we see made up in the cultural arts. (This was written in a simple but elegant language, though, in a fit of emotion, when what you really feel has a very high probability of coming out pure and elegant...I am proud of the language, even though I can't seem to recollect exactly). Of course, the rational friend says, where else would stories have come from? or Art? or Music? or Theater? All are, one facet, or another, of the real life.

Yes, I tell my pragmatic friend -- how right you are! And yet sometimes, I see movies, I read books, ... just to escape from this real world, to be something I never can be in real life, ... . Oh come on, says my pragmatic friend, grow up! You are no longer a kid who lives by dreams? But, I contradict him, when you grow up, can't you have dreams? He is really pragmatic, since he always has a ready pragmatic answer: Sure, just have a realistic one. Do good, become famous, get money, --- there are so many things to dream of. Yes, you are right indeed, I say, what is the use of these dreams of fiction?

But then why does my heart weep? I tell him nothing no more. He will never understand it, -- and yet I weep, wait for the waves of time to wash out the structure that the particular book/movie/serial created in my sandy conscience. The trouble is that, the conscience is not fully made of sand --- it is rocky at places. And then the water has a hard time doing the job.

Does, --- should the writer have the supreme power to decide who will live and who die? Can he act like a God? Writing about a decade back I had argued in the affirmative. He created the character, and he has the right to decide what to do with it. But, now I realize, it may not always be the right thing to do. When the character out the author's pen grows life like, and affects so many people's lives, dreams, feelings, emotions, ..., should the author still do whatever he likes with the character? Does he get to wield the power, do whatever he wants with so many people? I don't whats the right thing to do --- and neither I am going to argue for anything with my sandy-rocky conscience.

Meanwhile, I will just let it weep. Farewell, Ed! That's one more dream not come true...

a perfectly wonderful chirstmas followed by a shitty new year

Agent 6 by Tom Rob Smith


Yes, it's another of those books by Tom Rob Smith which is very accurate with historical details---and the story has a unique flavour. I am slightly upset by the book,---don't get me wrong, its wonderfully written, and I appreciate the time spent in reading it,--but in my opinion the central plot is rather weak. Raisa's death is the result of an accident, which went wrong, and carries the status of murder--thats all right; but it doesn't show the ingenuity of the FBI agent. Somebody less intelligent might have done the same. I guess I was expecting a much deeper plot; and therefore was not very satisfied when things did take their face value! The entire episode of the Afghan war, though very meticulously written, is rather long-winded and takes the flow well off the main course of the book---in fact, the Afghan episode itself assumes an independent and large sub-plot which the author could have done without! All in all, I'm very happy to have read the book, but probably not as happy as after "CHILD 44" or "THE SECRET SPEECH".


View all my reviews

Shiva Trilogy: The Immortals of Meluha

I bought the first book of this trilogy from Flipkart, and already, when I am yet to finish the first chapter, I am struggling to reconcile what I already know about this civilization, with what the author states. I like these kind of historical novels; but of course when there is a credible amount of history to go along with it. The most supreme example of this genre of authors (writing in English) I have read is probably Umberto Eco. Even Paul Susskind's novels, though set in the present, have strong historical and archaeological themes. This blog entry will (within the confines of an amateurish capability) discuss and separate fact from fiction in the novel. Moreover, this will not review the plot or characters; but will simply take up facts and deal with them.

A starting disappointment: the author is by profession, not a historian or an archaeologist. While this does not bar him from writing on anything he chooses to, a reasonably serious attempt would have been to acknowledge scholars in the field who would have something to say about the manuscript. I found none. Moreover,  no-where is it written that all the characters and many of the places in the novel are fictional. Is this a work where most things are fictional? Or does it draw from history? How much? It is not clear.

Let's start with the word:  Mehluha. Supposedly, this is the name Mesopotamians gave the people of the east. Moreover, many of the archaeologists agree with this (supposedly! Note that I am no expert, so will only present my conclusions from articles seen on the web. However, see this for detail: http://www.harappa.com/arrow/meluhha_and_agastya_2009.pdf).

Timing: The incidents are supposedly took place around 1900 BC. With a very conservative estimate, I would say that this corresponds to the early Vedic period, or roughly the timespan when the Aryans were coming to India, and the so-called Indus Valley Civilization was decaying.
I don't think that this can correspond to an Aryan viewpoint, primarily because this is abound with non-aryan symbolism's. The Aryans were prolific writers (on the contrary the gurukul system educated by word of mouth), they didn't dwell in cities or citadels, they didn't have doctors, nurses or immigration systems or quarantines in the city. I don't think any civilization in ancient history had the systematics of quarantine. A person infected with a contagious disease could be left aside, that's one thing; and quarantine is another! That seems kind of borrowed from science fiction, even while dealing with history. And the city of Srinagar did not exist in the year 1900 BC. This kind of thing, in my personal opinion, is wrong. You do not glorify a city unnecessarily.
Even in the first chapter, the reference to Aryan words and customs seems very frequent. This is rather puzzling: since I guess the generic idea is that the Indus Valley customs were widely different from that of the Aryans. The Aryans were mostly agrarian, while the book refers to the existence of  fantastic cities, and temples.

The other theme that recurs in the book again and again is the theme of perfection. There is a chief architect, the government provides such services that a modern political state would be ashamed of. And there was Census three thousand years back! Even if I could somehow try to settle down with the facts, a series of more bizarre facts strike me: at 1900 BC, the Meluhan society was living according to science, there was a chief scientist of the Empire, who had full knowledge of the existence of oxygen in the atmosphere. Maybe it's not too much to think that if he had been to high mountains, he would know that the "oxygen" content gets lesser since the air gets thinner. Further, his constant allusion to doing experiments, somewhat unnerves me. The ancient science in India had progressed via the elaboration of physical principles; stuffs of experiment came much later. As the novel progresses, there is a concept of the breaking up of colors: why does the leaf appear green? Well, why else, it rejects green of all the other colors! Now, Newton, and the entire human civilization must have been dump not to realize this thousands of years earlier. But of course, there were Meluhans! They know of the sun as a star which is shining, and about the existence of planets! Such a woe that they didn't leave their knowledge behind.

There is another reference to that of using "glasses" as vision improvement in the place where the Naga-aided Chandravamshis attack the Suryavamshi Royal family when Shiva, Sati and her mother are  coming back from Mount Mandar to Devagiri. While glass making in India was known as early as 1700 BC, about 200 years before the events in the story, it is rather far-fetched to presume that the people had mastery of using glass well enough to be used in telescopes. I did a bit of searching the net, and even from there it is not very clear to me that image magnification techniques using devices other than glass were known to such ancient people.

References to the even further ancient history astound and astonish me, about the origin of Manu etc. Personally I find it rather un-nerving when a novel is thrown like this at the faces of the Indian masses, most of whom have learnt to take things at their face value, without further questioning the written word. In this respect, I have to re-iterate, that if the author had takes pains to write down at the very beginning that this is a work of fiction, then it would have put me much more at ease. Even if he believes that all that he has written could have been true, still he should have explained that historical sources do not necessarily support such a hypothesis. Take for example, the novel NOTHING IS BLUE  by Biman Nath. Now that, forms very nicely a story from history and without trying to stretch historical facts to the accommodate the story. It does the reverse, and as a result everything fits in very nicely. Or take a more renowned example, the historical novels by Saradindu Bandyapadhyay, or those by Bankimchandra. Maybe this author should have had more inspiration from these authors than from Shiva!

On the whole, I have no problems in accepting this work as an entertaining read, although a rather short and quick one. The storyline is sufficiently simple and straightforward to follow, and you can even make guesses that will be proved right later on. A work of fiction to keep you engaged for the better part of a day in a lighthearted read.

About love

----I love you
----And why do you love me?
----I love you because you're mine... I love you because you need love... I love you because when you look at me I feel like a hero... It was always like that... I love you because when I touch you, I feel more a man, than any other man...
----I love you too
----And why do you love me too?
----I love you because when I touch you...I make you feel more a man than any other man. ...I love you because nobody could ever accuse us of love... I love you because to understand our love, they'd need to turn the world upside down... I love you because you could love somebody else yet still you love me... just me...
----Just you... just you... just you...

(source undisclosed)

Self-Criticism

That is a wonderful thing to have: keeps you in check.
I am rather particular about who says what to me and exactly in which tone. Shouldn't I be doing exactly that? No matter who the person in the receiving end is...
Disconnected statements to be sure, and I guess meant only for me. Just needed to say that to someone, ---desperately,--- even if its a virtual audience.

So long, what's up?

Yeah, it's been quite sometime now. Well beyond the post-thesis period. And well-beyond the TIFR period now, as well.
That was quite a statement! Leaving a place where I have about a fourth of
my life is never easy; and I won't pretend it was. Somehow, I was in a dream buoyed by the fantasy world of Westeros by George R R Martin. This, at the very least, was a shock absorber. I was still in the middle of the second book when I boarded the train (after the customary see off by my friends; I wasn't sure if I should be happy or sad; and most definitely didn't behave in the way I had planned! Now, what did I plan? That's a secret!) And then back home, I got absorbed in the "family" way of doing things, which is, no matter how hard I try at poles apart from my life in TIFR.
So what is exactly the difference? Its not that I used to spend more time on my work in TIFR than here, though it seems like it is. There was a routine at TIFR: we used to go for lunch at 12:15 nearly always, and for tea always at 3:30; maybe where you'd go for dinner was something that could be changed at the last moment. And so there is a routine here: get out at 9:40 to reach workplace by 10:30, have lunch at 1:15 etc. The dinner option is not there (of course I can always my mother to prepare something interesting to surprise me!), and a considerable amount of time spent commuting, including some good amount of exercise in walking with a heavy laptop on the back! So at the very least, I don't have to worry about my exercise so long as I don't always behave like a glutton. It's just that these two routines are different, not in their nature but in their schedules. When I was very young, while thinking about  why I wanted to do research, I convinced myself that it was because I could do it whenever I wanted. You didn't have to do from 10AM-5PM like in regular office. Now I know better: doing this involves a serious thought process, and unless you force yourself to develop this habit even while you are commuting, you have to do it the regular way! Of course, you can always work after you come back from office; but if you have a family, its gonna get harder. Still, as they say, when there's a will, there's a way!
Whatever whatever whatever ---- this wasn't meant to be a pointed post, so I allowed myself to ramble, but let's stop that now! 

Post-Thesis period

Hmm -- typing a word here after a rather long time. Was busy writing and submitting my thesis --- which took me quite long by my expectations. And our paper on diffusion, which should have been on the arXiv, a few weeks ago is still not out. I do not think I can stand it if we are scooped again.
It is a rather tense period now, because it is not exactly clear when I will get my degree. The problem arises because unless I get my degree, I cannot apply for my Swiss visa. And once I have submitted my thesis, and come August, I will have to leave my accommodation in TIFR, i.e. the hostel. What a bother!
So what do I do? I have arranged for a visit at the IACS, from beginning of August, till mid-September. The trouble is, in the meanwhile, I might have to come to TIFR again for the defense and visa applications. Really!
And, I am going to be here anyway sometime in the end of September. Add to this, the uncertainty of when to book the ticket and the house where to stay on reaching Bern and you will have some idea of the trouble I am in. The fact that I do not have much savings of my own, and might have to borrow money for this process only makes things worse. And where have my savings gone, you'd ask? In harboring the sin of gluttony, of course!
Anyway, too much of self-depreciation. The other unfortunate thing is that I wanted to write an detailed account of the wonderful trip to Roopkund that we went on in May; but given the lack of time and pressed by the huge burden of things to do, I need to postpone. This increases (exponentially, in my case!) the probability of the important things I had wanted to write about; but it doesn't look like I can help it right now.
Will have to officially say goodbye to the life I had known for the past six years in two more weeks. Can't seem to understand the  gravity of the situation, though! So many things that had become a habit will just go away abruptly. Some of the nice atmosphere I had been exposed to, I will probably never know and feel again. Will I be happy to leave? Not entirely. Some things and some people, I'll really miss. Others, I'll be happy to gloss over.

Watched the movie, Love Actually. Initially, I thought that this was just a British remake of the Hollywood move Valentine's Day. Very soon I found out that was not the case. This was a romantic comedy maybe back in 2003 by Richard Curtis. It portrays many stories in parallel; love stories. The humour  was different, very British, of course; but very fun and likable. The vision draws from the scene at the airport when you are witnessing an arrival: there is always so much happiness around. Something that I have witnessed and experienced! Really, we are really messed up creatures ;) Anyway, before I forget, I must mention that the last scene of the Hindi movie Jaane tu...Ya Jaane na was adapted from one of the scenes of this movie, when this little boy runs in the airport terminal to profess his love to his sweetheart.
One the whole, this is one of those feel good movies!