Tuesday, June 29, 2010


he was streaming on with the moving train. the metro would resume moving and it was his provocation, the whistle to a sprinter; he gushes along amongst the cheers of the crowd to fill in the metro with his hex and spell.
he was black, like little michael jackson, gimmicks and capers that make him! 
Madras, febr 2010, i had arrived with hordes of hope.Among many hopeful beings, i too had been summoned with a chance by the firm that now enjoys being the official software partners of the beautiful game.
A redemption from an acme of solitude is beautiful. It is much more with the single dish meals and the citadel of dreams on someone else' blankets. I had nothing but two meaningful friends there and a few caring seniors. That was the promise as i stepped out of the old madras railway station to the subways of Chennai.

'Captain' called me, he was addressed so at the hostel, short simple solicitous Captain! Before landing in Chennai, he worked for Nilekani's UID project; he used to ramble, collecting details of people for a few paise per each person. I was guided to board the metro from park town station and get down at indiranagar. I proceeded through the tamil tips to park town as thrill was running down the spine. The frisson of goin to see and experience a metro train ruled me than the job offer or the eagerness to meet thampan and captain.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

the conjecture called life

It was darkness, dark and the red was lyin doggo in it. Perl was holding the blood red apple on his palm. The figure of bearded Perl and the bloody apple was silhouetted against the window. He wasn't observing the topology of the fruit or evaluating the spherical nuances of his apple. A smile had bloomed b/w his beard evolving from the thought of a nutty poet, "transform a girl to an apple, and only the belly button  remains!"
He scratched the apple and clawed his teeth on to it. Now, it was amorphous.

Dawns of early eighties, he was Rushkin's gifted student, he slept with problems, the unwonted ones, and woke up with solutions. Memories gallop, 1982, international maths olympiad, Grisha was 16 then and he won the gold with perfection, all 7s in the 6 teasers. perfect score 0f 42, unparallelled. Some said he was eccentric and some called him Rasputin for his long nails and continous coif. But all knew he was friendly. He was natural. He was absolutely unassuming. These words from his teacher at Leningrad concieves him, mathematically, "There are a lot of students of high ability who speak before thinking. Grisha was different. He thought deeply. His answers were always correct. He always checked very, very carefully. He was not fast. Speed means nothing. Math doesn't depend on speed. It is about deep ."