If there is something that I admired from chldhood, that is Kolam. The simple dots and curve/straight lins combination with thr myriads of combination use to fascinate me a lot (as a teenager, those who made the Kolams were the intersting objects..that is a different story)
When in Kochi, I read a paper in a journal about Kolam and Maths expressions. Curious though, it did not catch my attention except for the fact that solutions for some mathematic problems can be solved/ interpreted through complex designs of Egyptians, Assyrians and the South Indian Kolam. I did not know much about Kolam and so simply dropped the idea of reading it further.
Recently, in a geometric puzzles book, I found a pattern of kolam (3*3 matrix) used to explain the problem and how that can expand to multiple rows & columns matrix to include several smaller kolam dimension. The amazing fact was that Kolam is a symbolic representation of an expanding challenge with solution given by geometrical interpretation. In one snap, you see the whole picture of the problem and the solution itself in it. Haven't we heard that 'problem have solution in itself'?
The logical deductions follows the use of symmetry and curves (some finite and some infinite) . Any problem solving technique involves
1. Breaking of the challenge into chewable pieces
2) Representing the problem into something more basic and understandable and
3) Finding solution by the representing object,s physical rules. This is based on core logic and reasoning.
If you see how the elderly ladies of the house approach a problem, you can see the pattern. The emotional angle is their expressive media( cut that out for a moment). Their logic works on the rules of the practical world. They use a lot of similies and comparisons for a solution. They 'picturize' the problem mentally and offer solution based on historical data. I now believe that credit goes to their Kolam and carnaric music.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Friday, February 05, 2010
W(hy)ah Taj?
W(hy)ah Taj?
I love Taj. It is an ineffable beauty. No one can deny that. But, hold on... We have something beautiful too.
Incredible India is a campaign that is surfeit with Taj photos - camels on dry Yamuna patch to some Rajasthani guys with big bright colored /pagdis and bigger moustaches. Does India start and end in Delhi airport- with a car ride to Agra?
What about the Big Temple of Thanjavur or the glorious Puri/ elegant North East or the meandering beaches of Kerala/ Konkan coast? Delhi decides what one should have as an image of India. That is dangerous.
in Air India flights(which I seldom take), the screen starts with .... you guessed it, the Taj. That too some lady posing for a family photo. Can't AirIndia afford a decent professional photography?
This type of stereocasting a nation would make the other deserving states think differently. Already the UP/Bihar resentment is on the rising. It is not for just political gains the shoutings are heard.
I hope to see India in it's own diversified glory. Even shah jehan would be sick of watching the Taj by Govt ads. Really Incredible India and an equally incredible Indian Government!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Reunion
It has been 21 years ..Just I tried to re-check my poor arithmetics. Not wrong by a large extent… it IS INDEED 21 years. How come I could not meet any of them? Puzzled as I was always , I asked the same boring question back to me. This time, it was a bit stronger and stirred me as well. Not sure what triggered. Not that I care now.
“Retrospection is not regurgiation” reminded someone from some corner of my mind. True. Most of the time, we intent to do an retrospection and we look back with some emotional bias that spoils the scerenity of retrospection. Cautiously, I tried to retrospect this time. No pleasant/unpleasant memories... just a retrospection and a tryst to find them again.
First came Cyriac . Google is something that you can use for almost anything you have lost – including the car keys and the beautiful girl who boarded the non-descript townbus in an equially non descript town. Anyone is traceable at any time.
No one can say that they did not have their 15 seconds of fame in the digitized world. Got the University address first, tracked and got a phone number of Nandakumar, the super senior who surprisingly remembered me even after these many years. He promised to send Cyriac’s cell number by SMS. Was not my belief that I would not be remembered just after these 2 years except for my asthmatic episodes and horrible Malayalam?
I awaited patiently.. not more than 10 minutes I could hold on. Sent him a nice message on his cell and gently reminded him to send the phone number. If I could wait for 24 years , could not I wait for another 24 minutes? No, I chided myself. Sometimes, there are no fairer games – especially when it mattered friends. Came in the sms atlast. I thanked him tersely on a reply message and prepared my self for giving sheer surprise calls to all the long last friends.
With a grin on my face and imagining how the faces would be on the otherside of the phone, first , I plugged in my cell phone in the charger. The old Nokia E 61 is as good as a landline for me with a constant need of charging. Anyway , it served it’s purpose today , when Cyriac ansered on the other side with utter confusion over the name “ Sudhakaran” as the caller. Fyriace, ninde Folid Ftate Fyffif engane undu? , got him to the memory lane. The sheer laugh and total loss for words were all that needed for us to get started .
Sometimes words are impediments in a conversation. To have a true conversation, you need not think coheretnly, put the right words in a logical sequence, conditiion that with your consciousness of the society acceptance on the expressions and words.. All these miliseconds delay in arranging words are too much for minds and hearts struggling to burst out and enjoy the sheer moment of happiness – of getting something long last.
“Talk slowly and in medium pitch” said my boss in a softskill development workshop some time ago in Singapore. He raised this point again and re-instated, “You should not offend the audience with your expressions and body language which is very subliime and potentially lethal than words”. For once, I did not care. I know the audience. It was not Cyriac. It was ME. I enjoyed the conversation and I enjoyed all the stammering and staggering and incoherent utterings of me and that of Cyriac. Who cares what we talked? It was talking that mattered.
After 20 minutes , we became aware of what the hell we were talking. The sheer awareness brought in the consciousness and our talks became more or less “normal”. He volunteered to send the ppt with all the contact information except a few –just pulling my legs again. What he did not know was that I had already fallen!
When I was done with the phone, I realized the unfinished ppt and the demo scripts with workflows in the new Virtual Machine. Damn… deadline is Monday. Got to my feet on work again. Monday would be the D-day.
Atlast got the mail from Cyriac with the ppt around 8 PM Sunday. Will write about each call in coming days.. Just to bore you all and make you configure the Spam mail settings to accommodate my email id in there. Neverthless, the assault would continue.
“Retrospection is not regurgiation” reminded someone from some corner of my mind. True. Most of the time, we intent to do an retrospection and we look back with some emotional bias that spoils the scerenity of retrospection. Cautiously, I tried to retrospect this time. No pleasant/unpleasant memories... just a retrospection and a tryst to find them again.
First came Cyriac . Google is something that you can use for almost anything you have lost – including the car keys and the beautiful girl who boarded the non-descript townbus in an equially non descript town. Anyone is traceable at any time.
No one can say that they did not have their 15 seconds of fame in the digitized world. Got the University address first, tracked and got a phone number of Nandakumar, the super senior who surprisingly remembered me even after these many years. He promised to send Cyriac’s cell number by SMS. Was not my belief that I would not be remembered just after these 2 years except for my asthmatic episodes and horrible Malayalam?
I awaited patiently.. not more than 10 minutes I could hold on. Sent him a nice message on his cell and gently reminded him to send the phone number. If I could wait for 24 years , could not I wait for another 24 minutes? No, I chided myself. Sometimes, there are no fairer games – especially when it mattered friends. Came in the sms atlast. I thanked him tersely on a reply message and prepared my self for giving sheer surprise calls to all the long last friends.
With a grin on my face and imagining how the faces would be on the otherside of the phone, first , I plugged in my cell phone in the charger. The old Nokia E 61 is as good as a landline for me with a constant need of charging. Anyway , it served it’s purpose today , when Cyriac ansered on the other side with utter confusion over the name “ Sudhakaran” as the caller. Fyriace, ninde Folid Ftate Fyffif engane undu? , got him to the memory lane. The sheer laugh and total loss for words were all that needed for us to get started .
Sometimes words are impediments in a conversation. To have a true conversation, you need not think coheretnly, put the right words in a logical sequence, conditiion that with your consciousness of the society acceptance on the expressions and words.. All these miliseconds delay in arranging words are too much for minds and hearts struggling to burst out and enjoy the sheer moment of happiness – of getting something long last.
“Talk slowly and in medium pitch” said my boss in a softskill development workshop some time ago in Singapore. He raised this point again and re-instated, “You should not offend the audience with your expressions and body language which is very subliime and potentially lethal than words”. For once, I did not care. I know the audience. It was not Cyriac. It was ME. I enjoyed the conversation and I enjoyed all the stammering and staggering and incoherent utterings of me and that of Cyriac. Who cares what we talked? It was talking that mattered.
After 20 minutes , we became aware of what the hell we were talking. The sheer awareness brought in the consciousness and our talks became more or less “normal”. He volunteered to send the ppt with all the contact information except a few –just pulling my legs again. What he did not know was that I had already fallen!
When I was done with the phone, I realized the unfinished ppt and the demo scripts with workflows in the new Virtual Machine. Damn… deadline is Monday. Got to my feet on work again. Monday would be the D-day.
Atlast got the mail from Cyriac with the ppt around 8 PM Sunday. Will write about each call in coming days.. Just to bore you all and make you configure the Spam mail settings to accommodate my email id in there. Neverthless, the assault would continue.
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