Clash of the ITans

Capitals of two erstwhile magnificent dynasties paved for distinct cultural beliefs in pre-Independence South India. The turn of the twentieth century witnessed these transformed metros breathing down each others’ necks to vie for the fluid IT/BT capital, e-governance and best airport accolades. Not to be outdone in other modalities, Bangalore and Hyderabad upped their ante last night to cap a new and colorful feather in the form of IPL T20 2009 cup. From being the two most drubbed teams in the last year’s version, they have beaten more fancied teams this season, although in very contrasting fashion. Deccan Chargers Hyderabad (DC) went bonkers right from the beginning decimating any team that was pitted against them. Delhi Daredevils, Chennai Superkings, Rajasthan Royals and Kings Eleven Punjab, nonetheless, slowly cut into the action pie. The most controversial and to some extent fancied lot, Kolkota Knight Riders were the sweet beat-me-now-and-everytime team and made Coach Buchanan’s multiple captain theory a cricketing farce. Although DC lost the plot in the middle, they had a winning combination to take them to the last four and beat the Daredevils in what was thought to be a hands-down game for the Delhites.

However Royal Challengers Bangalore, dubbed a test team, apparently suffered from the late bloomer syndrome. They started off on a wrong footing with Kevin Pietersen’s charisma not-withstanding his short stint at captaincy. Anil Kumble may not have been the obvious choice for the take-over, but Dravid was fathering another team back home. Under Anil, they turned multiple leaves over and won the last 10 of 12 games and 5 in a row to beat Chennai Superkings to reach the final. They had to scale the Gilchrist wall to lift up the IPL 2009 trophy. Although Anil laid the initial foundation for that, DC held their nerves in a match that saw so many twists and turns that Hitchcock would have turned in his grave. Mistimed shots, uncalled aggressiveness (initiated by the effervescent Symonds), a bit of sloppiness on field and a possible umpiring decision (a wide was not called when Kohli was stumped off Symonds) cost Bangalore the game that could have been theirs. But such is the nature of the game and doesn't make the efforts of DC any less significant. Deccan Chargers were the true Nizams of IPL 2009!

When T20 games were introduced in India, a strong statement was sent across that it was for the youth and the “seniors” didn’t stand much of a chance. IPL has rewritten that story time and again. IPL 08 was won by a team that was captained by Shane Warne who had quit active international cricket. This time around, both finalists were headed by flamboyant and hard-headed senior cricketers who were ably supported by daredevil young turks. It is all about balance between experience and exploits and I hope the selectors won’t get carried away by the young guns theory for the national team.

The Super Sunday extravaganza with no doubt held more excitement and expectations than the NBA or the UEFA Champions League for the sheer on- and off-field star persona, the exorbitantly ridiculous money involved in staging the event and the rags to riches turnabout of these two contesting teams. The closing ceremony was Moulin Rouge’s Spectacular Spectacular with fireworks and laser display competing with stars above and below! More importantly, it was a good engrossing, equally contested final and truly lived up to the one thing that cricket is all about - a gentleman’s game that entertains the spectator to the very last ball. The better team on the day took home the diamond-studded golden cup. It was not the first time that foreigners carried away exotic stuff from South Africa, except that this time around the Indians were decent enough to bring it down in the first place!

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Piled Higher and Deeper or Praise Him Dearly?

When AR Rehman received his Oscar for original score this year, he said “I was excited and terrified at the same time”. I had thought it was an utterly ridiculous statement. Karma, I guess, I kind of felt the same when I woke up on the 22^nd of April, 2009. Excitement was for the fact that I would defend a thesis I had worked so hard to build. The nervousness kicked in to the possibility that the defense wall might crumble down later that afternoon. When Martijn and I walked into Vrije University Amsterdam main building, the display on the monitors announcing the event only enhanced both the feelings. The writing on the wall was there to see…it was for real now.

There was something else that was real – it was a glorious sunny day… ideal for a book or bhaji on the beach. The black smoking suits might not have been the appropriate apparel for the day, but it was an essential part of a ceremonious occasion. The fact that we resembled a Zubin Mehta or a Lorin Maazel, ready to wave our wands to create philharmonic orchestras with our jackets on and like waiters when we took them off, made the whole thing very amusing. A paranymph is similar to the best man of a wedding and takes care of all the arrangements leading to, and support morally during, the thesis defense. Both Martijn and Alexander were gracious to be my paranymphs, put me at ease and did a wonderful job of making sure that things were on schedule. Everyone was so supportive and said nice things to assuage any remnants of discomfort before the event.

The beadle (an usherer and preserver of order during the thesis defense ceremony) came to the Promovendus room (green room for graduating PhD students) to brief Alexander, Martijn and me about the course of proceedings and we were led to a chamber where the Rector Magnificus (Dean) and the thesis committee were apparently discussing how to make my life a one hour miserable vanishing act. The Dean read some lines out of the bible to the effect that one should not do evil things and be responsible for not only our acts but also of our ancestors and the generations to come. I guess it was an indication that then would be the best time to bribe them for a degree, but I was too shocked to realize the significance and the moment was lost :)

As we left the chambers towards the main hall where the defense would take place, we made a nice procession - the beadle leading the group in her flowing robe, a cap and a clanging sceptre; the professors in the committee with robes and caps; the assistant and associate professors with somber black suits and the three of us at the rear in our penguin costumes. The aula is a very impressive structure that can seat about 800 people. As we walked down the long aisle, it was good to see that a few friends and colleagues had taken their valuable time off from work to be with me on that day. The committee went to their specially designated seats on the far left of the stage. The beadle led us to the right side of the stage where the paranymphs sat on either side of the podium while I stood behind it to face the committee opposite us.

Science is thankfully no longer the isolated elitist lighthouse of the bygone centuries. Popular science books, television shows and the internet have had their share in spreading the knowledge. But it is important that there is a dialogue between the society and the scientists. Although it is considered a challenge to get the ideas across to the laypublic in a coherent fashion, I think it’s a good exercise and a reality-check for the scientist to see how the research could be valuable to the society. So, I really liked the concept of this brief layman talk where the scientific work is viewed in a larger perspective. I hope that the 10 minute talk helped people understand what the thesis was all about.

The formal defense began just after this with the Dean and the committee moving over to the center of the stage. All the committee members started off congratulating on the thesis and then went on with their questions. The first one was a real toughie conceptually. Subsequently he asked me to design an experiment that would decipher some of his findings which apparently could be explained by using his own techniques. The second opponent’s questions were a bit trickier and I wish I could have shown the model I had prepared. It is a very complex idea to put into words and I needed to either draw on a blackboard or show him the powerpoint slide of the model. But the screen was already down and I just rambled on. The next three opponents had some hard questions but I was able to hold the fort.

At the end of a grueling hour, the beadle came in to the aula and took her sweet time to rap her sceptre and call out “hora est” (time’s up). That signified the end of the defense. Then we all walked back towards the chambers for a closed session of deliberation. While the committee was deciding my future, Alexander, Martijn and I sat outside like three kids who were waiting for the headmaster to come and give us (just me in this case) a good hiding. After we sat again at the head of the table, the Dean announced that the committee had decided to grant me the PhD. I felt like taking that jacket off, wave it around, do a jig and clap with joy. Instead, I put on a cool face, smiled at everyone as if it was my daily routine to drink high tea in closed chambers with people wearing 19^th century robes. Aren’t we all slaves of the society?

We moved back to the aula in the same order with us three lagging slightly in the rear to chat openly. On the stage again, the Dean officially proclaimed that I had received my Doctorate degree. He requested my promoter, Matthijs Verhage and my boss, Christiaan Levelt to sign the degree that bore the insignia of the University. It was transferred into a crimson tube of a receptacle by the beadle. Matthijs handed me the degree after reminding me the rights, privileges and the responsibilities that come along with the degree. Christiaan performed the laudatie (eulogy) and recalled nice things during the time I was in his lab and what he thought were the reasons for this marathon of a thesis. The Dean officially closed the event and the beadle walked us all out of the aula, this time, the paranymphs and me leading the group. The Dean, professors, colleagues and friends congratulated and we made some pictures near the podium.

We then headed for the reception at Basket, on University campus. I was able to chat with friends and former labmates at leisure here amidst blocks of cheese and mustard sauce, hapjes, peanuts, drinks and an occasional ball that dropped in from the ‘beach’ volleyball group playing in front of the café. After changing into less formal clothing, we took the metro to Wibautstraat for dinner at India Roti Room. Although the waiter thought he was too funny, the food was pretty good. After winding up a traditional meal of samosas, mango lassi, panneer khas, kurmas, tandoori choice, basmati pulao while listening to Jagjit Singh in the background and Benny Lava on Christiaan’s mobile, we walked down to De Doffer for the party. The labmates had made a quiz about me and had Susan Boyle either grinning, wearing a 3D goggle, a mustache or both with the goggle and mustache. The questions were fun, but most of the time they were downright embarrassing, but fun to others :)

At the Basket... and at India Roti Room

The day brought down curtains on a very memorable phase of my life during which I had the opportunity to learn a lot scientifically as well as socially. It was tough to be away from family and most of my friends. But I met and made friends with many interesting people, some of whom were around to wish me well. It would have been complete if I had all my family and close friends on that day with me. But you were in my thoughts and I thank you all.

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What's in a PhD?

There is an insightful saying in the ever-exciting world of PhD students, which might disgust those who are not in it. But it is very deep and philosophical. Roughly translated, after shedding some fundamentals of communication etiquette, it reads “thesis is like feces - try to get rid of it now than later”. You might think that someone who was ambitious and competitive enough to get into a PhD program should know what a new-born smart ass baby does without thinking or much effort. But hey, don’t be judgmental. We are artists and need the time and freedom to express our thoughts. We will let you know when the painting is done.

A PhD is not just a search for scientific facts that can be corroborated with experimental design and results extrapolated into coherent and valuable information. It is also a soul-searching journey of personal faith and conviction towards life-changing perspectives. It teaches you to respect this grandeur creation and turns a staunch egghead to be modest at the limited awareness of the universe. At the same time it allows you to derive happiness in the expanse of knowledge that greater people before you have deciphered. It makes you think global with the implications of your microscopic dabble at the unknown. It expects you to appreciate the opportunities that are both made and lost. Most of all it teaches you to be persistent with your belief and principles but not to the extent of being fool-hardy. It is in effect a crash course in life!

We learn a lot of things as we grow up and grow old. The information has to be stored somehow to prevent each of us from re-inventing the wheel of experience every single time. What are the factors involved in memorizing and storing the wealth of information in the brain? After carefully analyzing thousands of DNA-profiled subjects who were humanely decapitated and their brains respectfully studied, this thesis concludes that a signaling molecule, brain derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), can be attributed to store this information in small compartments of a neuron called “dendritic spines”. A thesis to this effect was written over a period of one year in three different continents and finally submitted a few weeks ago. It might be a very small piece in the enigmatic functioning of the brain puzzle, but it’s a start. The fact that we are far from decoding this puzzle should not keep us from trying. That’s what these 6 years have taught me.

It all began on a cold winter day in Amsterdam a few years ago and the culmination of this long journey will take place on the 22^nd of April in Amsterdam, when I will defend my thesis. Thanks to all of you for being part of this journey either directly as fellow-passengers or as by-standing well-wishers.

The strips are from PhD Comics that almost every grad-student can relate to and find solace in at the ups and downs of this fraternity.

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A Golden Date with Maharaja

ಅಂಬಾ ವಿಲಾಸದ ಅಂಗಳದಲ್ಲಿ

It was love at first sight. And my wife didn’t mind one bit. In fact, she felt the same. Well….before you plan on a fanciful flight of imagination, I am referring to the throne….The Golden Throne of the Wodeyars. It took quite a while for the feeling to sink in that I was feasting my eyes to one of the most magnificent thrones in the world. To top it all, I was doing so from inside Ambavilasa (Diwan-e-Khas, Private Durbar Hall) – the sanctum sanctorum of the Mysore Palace built during the Regency of Maharani Kempananjammanni of Vani Vilasa Sannidhana – where mighty kings of Mysore, His Royal Highness (HRH) Sri Nalvadi Krishna Raja Wodeyar and HRH Sri Jayachamaraja Wodeyar had made important decisions regarding the State and its People in consultations with stalwart thinkers like Sir. Mokshagundam Vishveshwaraiah and Sir. Mirza Ismail, Dewans of Mysore. This was the very place where many social, educational, industrial and technological issues and the plans for Krishnaraja Sagar Dam, Brindavan Gardens, Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL), Government Engineering College (now UVCE), University of Mysore, Bangalore Agricultural University, State Bank of Mysore, Mysore Soap Factory and Bhadravati Steel factory were discussed and approved. It was also very likely the room where HRH Sri Jayachamaraja Wodeyar had to make the hard decision of abdicating the throne to accommodate a democratic notion that had swept the nation post-independence. However, the rosewood doorway on the north-eastern end with ivory motifs depicting Krishna on a Peepal leaf; the silver central door on the east portraying the 10 incarnations of Vishnu on the outside and pictures of Krishna’s formative years on the inside; Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwara’s pictures above the lintel, with corresponding images of Saraswati, Mahishasuramardini and Lakshmi on the exterior; the 24 colorful pillars that lined the central third of the hall; the stained glass ceiling above them; the majestic gold throne that adorned an illustrious lineage of kings from the time of Pandavas; the magnificent chandeliers that hung down like a bunch of grapes made out of diamond; the richly crafted mahogany roof panels on either side of the glass ceiling; or the Gandabherunda glass etchings staring from atop each of the four windows gave away no hint to their participation in these momentous events that shaped up Mysore’s History.

Today, they were witnesses to a new world which, but for their grandeur, neither knew nor cared about their historical significance, to a new generation of people with new ideologies and new lifestyles, and to the service of a new Maharaja. A party of 100-odd people was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the scion of the erstwhile Mysore Royalty, one of the few people in the country who is empowered to use the title “Maharaja” (unlike a la Ganguly), Sri Srikantadatta Narasimharaja Wodeyar Bahadur. The occasion was the Private Durbar that the King holds during Dasara celebrations. As the people waited for the King, all eyes were fixed on the Golden Throne that sat centrally with resplendence in the western end of the hall. A kid, sitting closeby, excitedly asked his mother if the throne was really made out of gold. She responded in the affirmative and added that only the King could afford such luxuries and indeed we were fortunate to be sitting in such close proximity. This conversation transformed me to an era gone by to agrahaaras (social settlements) outside the palace, where mothers used to feed their children by telling stories about the luxurious lives and the valorous deeds of Kings and Princes. It was so surreal to experience such a déjà vu when one was not even part of it, but for hearsay, the first time around :) This vindicates, if any such thing were required, the inscription on the rim of the umbrella above the main seat that describes HRH Sri Mummudi Krishna Raja Wodeyar as “The Lord of Karnataka Ratna Simhasana” and that the golden umbrella of the golden throne, which he had inherited from his illustrious ancestors, evoked the awe of the whole world. This ancestry, in terms of the possession of the throne, supposedly goes back to the time of Pandavas of Hastinapura. The throne is later thought to have been brought down South to Andhra Pradesh, where it lay underground undisturbed. It was dug up by Sage Vidyaranya who was instrumental in founding the Vijayanagara Empire in 14th Century and it was on this throne that the Vijayanagara Kings brought forth the Golden Age of South India. After the decline of the Vijayanagara dynasty, the throne came in to the possession of Wodeyars in early 17th Century. And it has been so till today to tell us its glorious past.

If that bit of historical piece does not invoke wonder, maybe this will. The Golden Throne is about 6 feet high and the main seat comes to about 4 feet. The exuberant decorations include those made out of gold, silver, pearls and other precious stones that I can’t name. It has intricate carvings all over it, the most conspicuous of them being the Mysore Royal Emblem of Gandabherunda (a mythical bird with two heads) flanked by two Sharabhas (a lion’s body and head with a trunk of an elephant, considered to combine the strength and valor of both). The four sides of the throne are accentuated by gold-etched creepers, with elephants on the east, horses on the south, soldiers on the west and chariots on the north. Carvings of the Hindu Trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwara give semblance to the fact that the King is considered the protector of his subjects. There are six steps that lead to this seat and each has two female figures that form the banister. The golden umbrella, atop the main seat, is highly decorated and has a tortoise seat as its base. The seat, the steps and the umbrella can be enjoined, as I heard later, with an interlocking system.

While I was taking in all these details, I could sense the room being filled with a lot of excitement and expectation. Dressed up in brilliantly colored shawls and religious marks adorning their foreheads, the priests who had been walking up and down the hall with superior grins, hurried down to stand by their plush seats in front of the throne. The naadaswaram (a traditional Indian wind instrument used in auspicious occasions) was adding to the growing crescendo and when the soldiers lined up the path along the north-eastern door, all talking ceased. I had decided to stay close to the eastern door from the beginning so that it would be a vantage point both for the entry and exit of Maharaja as well as to the throne that was right across on the western end of the hall. I had been cautioned by one of the soldiers from using any kind of camera/mobile phone lest it should be confiscated. My Nikon D80 was already downstairs locked up with some security guy who sincerely thought it was an armored tanker. I didn’t want this Nokia N73 to vanish before I said “hey”. That didn’t stop me from surreptitiously making videos by pointing it aimlessly in the not-so-brilliantly lit room.

The announcement of King’s arrival got everyone up on their feet. Amidst the chanting of Vedic mantras, a rendition of "Vaatapi Ganapatim Bhaje" on the naadaswaram and proclamation of his various titles, Maharaja Sri Srikantadatta Narasimharaja Wodeyar Bahadur walked in with a cohort of soldiers and court officials in royal garb. A couple of soldiers were smartly twirling two large pieces of silk, in a symbolic act of cleaning the pristine and luxurious carpet in front of the Maharaja. The King walked down the entire length of the hall, went around the throne, bowed respectfully and with some difficulty, climbed up the six steps. All this time, I was making video with the mobile phone from behind a soldier. Now, with some goading from him, I threw all caution to wind and moved towards the eastern door and stood across the throne in full sight of Maharaja! That’s how we were for the next 10 mins – a Maharaja at one end of the hall sitting comfortably on the golden throne, and a Chakravarthy (Emperor) on his feet at the other end with a mobile phone that had lousy video and zoom options. The irony of life, eh? Anyways….I really missed my still and video cameras, and the knowledge that I may never ever get such an opportunity did not help matters. The King stood up on the throne and saluted the audience while the naadaswaram played a fast tune. After the King had settled down, the soldiers who had lined up in front on either side showed their respects by lifting their swords and tributing him with various impressive titles. The court officials and the priests came in front of the king as quartets and showered praises upon him. The King posed for a few official photographs, stood up again, and saluted. Then he walked down towards the eastern door, turned left and made way to another much awaited ritual.

The soldier, who had quickly become my Palatial God Father, insisted that I follow the royal brigade for the next event. Without a shred of doubt or concern, I followed the troupe which consisted of two soldiers, the Maharaja and 4 other court officials….and me! When I looked back, I saw Ramya earnestly trying to convince the soldier that her husband was part of the royal entourage and that she was only following his footsteps, as any ideal wife would ;) Right! So thought the soldier, and the large rosewood door closed behind us. I knew I would see Ramya….eventually…if I was not thrown to the lions or elephants for this royal sacrilege. So, I followed them promptly with the mobile phone video capturing the backsides of this royal staff. See, that didn’t sound right…so I decided to go around a few of these officials to get a better shot of the Maharaja.

Rule number 42 of Mysore Palace Etiquette clearly states – “Never try to break into, and overtake, a royal brigade in order to get within 2 feet of Maharaja.” Not dozing off during High School History classes would have helped.

One of the officials turned around and asked me what the hell I was doing there and I vaguely remember saying that I had come along with the Town Planning Bigwig. I was politely asked to march back and one of them stood behind to ensure that I did. We were in the off-the-limits area on the first floor, an open quadrangle from which the royal women-folk would observe the proceedings beneath in the Kalyana Mantapa (Marriage Hall). I doubled back and ran around the corridor to be on the other side. I had no clue what to expect. About 20 people had gathered here to see the next and the last act of this royal play.

There was a small, but elegant, east-facing throne that had a footon in front. There were two silver vessels, one with scented water and the other with flowers. Facing the throne, there were about a dozen ladies who wore exuberant and expensive looking sarees (traditional Indian dress - a long piece of clothing that is draped around the entire length of a woman’s torso and legs). This was quite a different setting from Ambavilasa. It did not have any of the extravagant display of wealth. The lighting was somber and the mood not so upbeat. After a couple of minutes, the Maharaja walked in from the far southern corridor and sat on the throne. Maharani (Queen) Pramoda Devi broke away from her royal aides and sat in front of the footon. She washed the King’s feet with the water (paadapooja) and offered flowers to him. She applied tilak (a red paste signifying prosperity) on his forehead. The Maharaja got up and walked back the same way and the Queen joined her group. This act represented a tradition where in the Maharaja was worshipped as the Protector and the Queen was also wishing him luck to perform his duties to serve his subjects.

I moved south to the back entrance of Ambavilasa. The crowd had already dispersed. There were a few who had gathered around the Golden Throne. Ramya was frantically trying to reach me on my mobile and was relieved to see that I was in one piece. We set out to have a closer look at the main attraction. A few policemen were in the process of cleaning it up and ensuring that no valuables were misplaced or lost. Some of the pearls from the canopy that adorned the main seat had fallen off and were being carefully gathered. An old woman was very gratified to receive some of the flowers that were used to decorate the throne. Another guy was agitated that his camera was impounded by the police, who eventually returned it with a warning. I managed to make a quick shot of the throne with the help of an empathetic policeman. After a couple more shots in Ambavilasa, we moved down and out into the Palace grounds to cherish a very memorable hour.

While you need to behold the Ambavilasa proceedings with your own eyes to appreciate the glory, you will have to do with this story and a link to the video (will shortly follow...I'm trying to convert the .mp4 video to a more suitable format), which in no miniscule way can do justice to the visual splendor. What must have been once an event that was the highlight of Maharaja’s Dasara itinerary has now become a mere symbolic façade. Although I was wistful for an audience during the reign of earlier Maharajas, where the visitors had to be dressed up in the Dasara costume, could meet Maharaja and be honored with a garland, I was pretty glad to be part of this traditional event that has stood the test of time!

I'll leave you with some not-so-impressive pictures from my Nokia...

King goes around the throne...to a standing salute... and settles down comfortably. 

The soldiers...and the officials show their respect...as the silky twirls continue.

Soldier who goaded me into following the Maharaja...as he exits

Long live the King!! Peace to All!!

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