Day in the lecturing Sun

Yesterday I delivered my first real lecture. My thesis adviser is travelling this week and asked me to teach his class on Physical Electronics. The time commitment involved in preparing a full-fledged theory-intensive lecture was outweighed handily by an almost childish excitement. I have been a Teaching Assistant or Part-Time lecturer for many courses now, where I have followed tightly scripted guidelines in helping students with laboratory experiments or supporting lecture courses with recitation sessions involving problem solving. But, this was entirely different. I was being asked to design a lecture introducing the basic physical theory of an electronic device, striking the right balance between a rigorous mathematical treatment that would bring out its various electrical characteristics and peppering the flow of equations with enough verbal reasoning and insight.

Preparing for it proved to be harder than I first thought. It reminds me now of this interesting practice we had in high school in India where every teacher's day (The birthday of Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, India's second President), the students from 12th standard would pick one teacher each from the entire school and teach their classes for the day. I remember teaching Physics and the feeling of enormous responsibility that suddenly seemed to dawn on me that morning. That exercise left me with a reverence for the role of the teacher, and an appreciation for the trust and respect the students placed in me. Over the years as a TA in grad-school, I never felt that again until yesterday when I faced that class of Electrical Engineering seniors.

My ideal for a great lecture is influenced heavily by Professor Feynman as revealed in the transcripts of his lectures on Physics at Caltech and in the videos of the Messenger lectures, recently put online for free by Bill Gates (in my opinion, one of his greatest philanthropic endeavours!) Those lectures were for the general science enthusiasts, but his style, erudition and meticulate preparation were clear for all to admire. Before the age of the power point presentation, with the aid only of a small sheet of paper, he would proceed to unravel the mysteries of the subject, injecting the right amount of wit, perspective, drama and insightful detachment at the right moments. He also made sure to sum up the lecture at the end and finish with a memorable flourish.

Although fully aware that such mastery over the subject in question and the art of the lecture is well beyond my reach, I have found his style a great inspiration to model my efforts on. I spurned the power-point presentation, started the lecture with what I hoped was some background and perspective, outlined what I was going to cover and then proceeded to in a way that didn't leave me with many regrets. I did overshoot the 80 minute limit by a few minutes but managed to tie up all the loose ends. While wasn't immune to the few students giggling at the back and the odd face which rested on the palm only to slip down when sleep overcame, I think I learned quite a bit about how to engage the audience and try to guage whether what I said was translating well to them.

The most important takeaway from the lecture was the intensity of my preparation for it. I tried to anticipate questions and put myself in the position of someone trying to learn what I already knew in that short period. I see that there is a reason that our society hands the professor the dual responsibility of the teacher and the researcher. Although there are many exceptions, in general it is the successful researcher who has the best tools to be the successful teacher. The depth of knowledge that sustained thought about and work in a field gives is the best resource to draw upon while trying to educate university students. My fifteen minutes of faux-professorship impressed on me the enormous amount of preparation and thought that preceedes a good lecture. I shall not begrudge our professors their exalted status anymore!

Nobel politics prize

Our ever-shortening news cycle has long moved on from the surprise award of the Nobel peace prize this year to President Barack Obama of the United States. Although I haven't participated in any tea party this summer and watch Fox only for slapstick entertainment and mindless buffoonery, I have to admit my colossal surprise when I woke up one morning to this news. The Nobel prize, in my mind, was one of the last bastions of meritocracy left in today's world and I couldn't think of anything the President has achieved yet, let alone just a month into his presidency in February when apparently he was nominated for the award. It was even more surprising when I read the press release from the Nobel committee. They made no pretensions of the award recognising any achievement, but used lofty language praising the inspirational effect he is having on the world and the change of tone he has brought in the rhetoric of American leadership. Although I agree completely with these arguments and am heartened by his actions, I am dismayed that these can be valid reasons for awarding someone such a prestigious award.

I am not claiming that the Nobel committee should be answerable in their choice to public opinion. But, the credibility that the Nobel prizes enjoy around the world does not follow merely from the amount of prize money or the reputation of the committee, but because of a history of recognising substantial contributions made in the past. This is especially so in the case of awards for Physics and Chemistry, whose lofty standards have largely contributed to the lustre surrounding the prizes for peace. So, when the committee devalues the peace award by making political decisions, they only risk endangering their own credibility in the eyes of the world. I hope the committee is proved prescient and that President Obama goes on to achieve the tremendous amount he promises. But, that still doesn't refute my argument based on the principle that the prizes should celebrate only past achievements and not anticipate those in the future.

On a wider note, I think this award for President Obama throws light on how radically society's values differ from what is stated. A man who led an entire nation to freedom from foreign rule while steadfastly holding onto morals of non-violence that shamed the world's greatest empire and stripped it off its pretensions of "civilising mission" was never eligible for the prize. Maybe it can be argued that the the honour would have been the prize's if Gandhi had accepted and not vice-versa and that he was bigger than any such prize. But, it was still a political decision, quite like it is probably a political decision to choose President Obama this year. Although from a modern liberal point of view, the latter might be a good decision, the ends don't justify the means. These turn of events only illustrate the crying need for depoliticising the Nobel prizes or developing credible impartial alternatives to them.

Leonard Cohen at Madison Sq. Garden

I first listened to Leonard Cohen less than two years ago. Yet, today the depth of his voice, the sound of his song and more than all else the power of his lyrics are an integral part of my life. At many a time, I revisit his themes in Suzanne, Bird on the wire, Chelsea Hotel etc.. for their simplicity, accessibility and still fresh beauty. So, it was with some excitement that I got tickets a few months ago to his live show at Madison square garden on October 23rd 2009, yesterday.

The cheapest tickets were still expensive (more so for a grad student) and as I walked up from Penn station only a few minutes from 8pm, when the show was to begin, I could see his fans thronging the entrance. It was a curious mix of many older people, fans surely of his wonderful hits from the 60s and 70s which are still his biggest draws and many young 20-somethings perhaps impressed by his new albums. I myself count most of my favourites from his older work, especially in the poetic quality of the lyrics and their power to be simple and strong at the same time. Perhaps it has something to do with how the 60s and 70s had the same general zeitgeist that he sang about. The struggle to find the place of theindividual in an increasingly mechanised world where human bonds were fraying was everywhere and Leonard Cohen probably fed off that while producing some of his most illuminating work.

The show started a bit late. The arena was packed, mostly with adoring fans who greeted his entrance with much enthusiansm. Although in the farthest section, I could feel the warmth and admiration the crowd shared for Cohen, a more mature version of that found in your garden variety rock concert! There was also the general air that he might not be coming back to New York in a while, if at all. After the concert at Beacon theater earlier in the year and considering his long association with the city, it had a feeling of a farewell concert, although I am sure all there hoped it wasn't.

Last friday (Oct 16th), during a concert in Valencia, Spain, Cohen collapsed onstage during his classic "Bird on the wire", apparently due to food poisoning. But, he looked in good health and spirits this time and took the time to talk to the audience with much warmth."It is our interntion to give all we got"- he said to much applause. On stage with him were the delightfully melodic Sharon Robinson and the enchanting Webb sisters with vocals. He was also accompanied by an obvious maestro of Acoustic guitar who provided many solos during the night leaving the audience rapt with admiration, an elegant saxophonist, pianist and drummer.

Cohen started off with some of his newer songs like "Dance with your beauty", "Engine of Survival" and "Ain't no cure for love". The latter was sung in a halting and haunting manner, and was, in my opinion, the best delivered new song of the night. Then he sang the spectacular "Bird on the wire", in a very different tune with many stops where others jumped in with solos. Although lacking the power of the original, this version was an insight into how he views the song himself many decades later. Then, there was "Everybody knows", "In my secret love" and a marvellous acoustic guitar solo, followed by "Who shall I say is calling" and to much applause, "Chelsea Hotel". The latter was delivered in much the same way as the original and it was an exquisite experience listening to this masterpiece live. Before breaking for an intermission, he also sang "Waiting for a miracle" and the very poetic "That's how light gets in".

After a rather long intermission, there were some lovely moments when he sang "Tower of love", "Suzanne" and "Sisters of Mercy". "Suzzanne" is one of his songs that has really grown on me. It seems to have so many layers that reveal only very slowly with time in the most elegant ways. Then followed "Where's my gypsy wife tonight" and "When they poured across the border" after which Sharon Robinson sang a spectacular "Boogie street". Then the show decidedly moved towards the final segment as Cohen sang the rousing "Halleleuah" and the popular "I'm your man". He seemed to be ending the show then as he galloped (literally! though not on a horse) off the stage but by popular demand came back to deliver "So long Marianne", and then again was brought back for "Then we'll take Berlin". There were standing ovations for these epilogue performances.

In hindsight, I think this concert was more special for the presence of Leonard Cohen and being with so many adoring fans across the generations more that the music itself. Seeing him sing as I listened to those heart-wrenching classics somehow put them into context, provided background to where those songs came from. I think that was the best takeaway of the night.

Angst

Human beings have searched relentlessly for meaning in the randomness around us. Many times, this takes the form of faith in a god that is omniscient and benevolent and to whom we can leave these intractable questions of meaning and purpose as long as we follow his (and it is usually a his) word. Religious rituals help further in building community and keeping us busy and motivated towards the attainment of worldly comforts and goals. However, the world has never been short of rebellious thinkers who have rejected the very idea of a higher purpose in life. In the 20th century, the rise of philosophical movements like existentialism and absurdism have even brought these schools of thought to the mainstream in western (and increasingly east Asian) culture. With the rejection of a god who has a plan, we are bothered by the incessant question- try to seek out meaning in life even as all approaches seem logically counter-intuitive when sufficiently thought through or to accept nihilism, that we are merely specks of dust which coalesced into life at some point in the past and developed conscience and self awareness later. Notwithstanding the leaps of faith involved, the latter seems more in tune with a scientific temper, but it leaves us with a gigantic why.

Why do we bother at all with life if it doesn't mean anything beyond itself? Surely, so many of us are happy in life even when have no clue on what the ever closer prospect of death holds. Maybe lives which are meaningless in themselves do have a way of creating some collective meaning in togetherness and relationships. If we can accept that inanimate molecules could join up in the primordial soup to create life and that a conscience can emerge in the body out of the interactions of many living cells and that many of us human beings can be united in common causes like nationhood and organisations, maybe it isn't all that outlandish to think we are creating some purpose higher than ourselves here. This is certainly not a scientific argument, not backed by empirical facts, but another feeble attempt to attack with rational thought this question at the heart of all questions. Logic fails time and again to give answers, but the mind has no other tool at its disposal.

Generalising the question to a concept of meta-meaning, why, at the outset, do we face a choice between meaning and nihilism? Maybe it is because of the sense of control that human beings feel in the world. From the perspective of a bug, life is quite different. While it goes about its business, tirelessly gathering food and feeding itself so as to be able to gather food the next day, at any moment can come a gigantic boulder many times its size and crush it to pulp or a tornado of such magnitude it will blow it away into an entirely new environment. Its life is unpredictable and almost totally out of its own hand. But while we might stamp out a bug on the floor or blow it away, our environment has been conditioned enough to bring a lot of predictability to life. There are rules of conduct and expectations from the state and from others. Maybe it is such circumstances, of nature like our intellect and of nurture like our subjugated environments which even lend us the faculty of a search for meaning. Being situational as it is, the search cannot claim any sense of universality. But being the most basic of searches, it is not something that depends on any pretense of universality. So, particular as man's search for meaning might be, it is likely to bedevil him as long as he seeks to impose order on the underlying randomness of the universe.

What, then is the solution? As all my attempts to create a logical purpose are stymied by its own contradictions and efforts to discredit the search itself leaves me dissatisfied, the only return is to the rituals and practices of society, the communal and the intimate. They serve not only their stated purpose in their scheme of things, but also each a small part in sustaining the spirit lest it strays into the abyss of existential angst.

Coming of age

Kannan shifted down into second and revved his Miata up the climb. He wasn't going to let the engine die on him today. The top was down and the slight chill of early September was evident in the wind beating against his half-closed eyes. He glanced over to Naina in the passenger seat, her eyes closed, enjoying the thrill of speed; unaware, or so he thought for the moment, of what it was doing to her elaborately coiffed hair. She glanced back at him, feeling perhaps his gaze on her, and chided him about not paying attention to the road. But he knew this road like the back of his hand and he knew they were almost there, at the cliff.

Naina was not like the others. Kannan didn't feel sorry for her and try to make things better. He didn't want to take care of her or save her. He just enjoyed her love and wanted to be with her. With hindsight, he now feels how he always attracted a certain kind of woman- who had been wronged against or had a bad childhood bereft of the real love of a parent which made her hesitant and withdraw before she felt he might leave her. Maybe he was seeking them out, but in any case, they didn't want him enough to put themselves out there. Naina though, had faith in her feelings. He loves the moments right after he parks across the street and walks up to her porch, when looking at her behind the screen door he feels connected to her in a mutual moment of carefree possibility.

He pulled off the road and drove up to the edge of the cliff. He was excited going back there after so long. The lights of the city twinkled below them. She leaned across and lay with her back on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. She held onto his arms with an equal mix of reassurance and vulnerability. They enjoyed lying like that under the stars; in each other's arms and talking about their lives. They were both at that age where the future is pregnant with possibility, but also uncertainty. On the one hand, they didn't know what to anchor their plans on, but Kannan was reassured by their togetherness. Her liptsick never smeared his lips, but he had ceased to care if it would.

Kannan noticed the back of her hand resting right next to his open palm. As the starlight played across them, they seemed both the same shade. He had an idea. "Hey N, turn around your palm!" Then he turned over his hand next to her palm. "Look, a moment ago, we were in sync, the same shade... and now you're dazzlingly light and I am richly dark!" She threw her head back and giggled, "One moment in sync and complementing the very next, eh?" Kannan bent down and kissed her. He liked that about them. There were all these little ways they were alike and then so many other ways they balanced each other. Maybe they were just two young people in love, eager to seek out the best in each other, to celebrate the thrill of feeling desired. In a different context, what was in sync now would be boring and what complemented now would leave them with nothing in common. But, it wasn't the time for perspective.

"You know K, I was once told it was best to be with someone who loved me more than I loved him" Naina whispered, being barely audible over WQXR's classical music he liked to play. "Yet, I always thought that would be unfair to him, not getting as much in return as he gave of himself. But, being truly in love tells me how it comes in shades. I might be more passionate and intense in mine, but you are more patient and kind in yours." It was Kannan's turn to chuckle now. It seemed so... syncy and complementy again. In the way that mattered most to each of them, they loved the other more. Kannan looked up at the stars above burning up ever so slowly and the city below winding down decidedly for the night. He felt they were in a time warp- one where the clock ticked at the regular clip but time slowed to a contented halt.