"Explain 2024 for you in one word," demands my social media timeline. Conciseness is not my strongest quality. So, I am going to sum up two years, 2023 and 2024 in two words: talks and reviews.
(Conference) talks: In early 2023, I was invited to deliver a mini-course in a number theory workshop at NISER, Bhubaneswar. I chose one of my favourite themes, central limit theorems in number theory, and prepared the lecture notes and slides with great enthusiasm. Underneath the enthusiasm was a pressing need to present as much material about this topic in as short a time as possible. "How do I present all the important theorems in this field along with all the proofs so that every minute counts for the participants?" Further underneath, of course, was the "real" desire to present all MY results on this topic. After the first lecture, I was taken aback when my host gently pointed out that I was going too fast. I slowed down in the second lecture, but received the same feedback. So, for the remaining lectures, I did the sensible thing of slashing down the content to less than half, and focusing on a few essential principles with applications. These lectures saw a far higher engagement from the audience. After giving up the self-imposed pressure to present everything I know about the topic, I felt relaxed.
That evening, I walked back to the guest house with Professor Michel Waldschmidt, a distinguished number theorist who delivers excellent lectures, and is possibly one of the friendliest people on this planet. I confessed a form of impostor syndrome: an innate fear of being judged for not knowing enough if I don't present everything I want to. This was pushing me to present more than what a handful of hours could reasonably contain. I received valuable advice from him, which helped change my attitude.
Through 2023 and 2024, I have put in some thought and practice into pitching my talks at the right level, keeping the content substantive but pleasant, and ensuring that I do not exceed my time slot in any lecture. This requires better self-organization than I have practiced before. My most recent talk was at a number theory conference in Chennai two weeks ago. I wanted to talk about the project that I have spent the last few months working on. There was a real danger of devolving into technicalities. Without any fear of judgment, this time, I spent the first 25 minutes talking about the application of a classical technique to the most basic L-function, namely the zeta function, as the best features of the technique can be demonstrated here. I used the last 5 minutes to discuss how the idea can be adapted to the functions of my interest, namely the modular L-functions, and the technicalities that emerge in this application. (Here is the link to the talk, in case anyone is interested; it starts at 1:18:52). In a most pleasant turn of events, Professor Waldschmidt was in the audience and gave me warm and encouraging feedback for my talk this time. I reminded him of our conversation two years ago, and he was thrilled to know that his advice had been helpful.
A thought to ponder upon: many mathematicians prefer to deliver talks on the board. This requires planning and careful thought: you cannot write on a board in 30-40 minutes what you can show on slides. Can you convey your work effectively without all the equations neatly lined up on your slides for ready reference? The impact of a properly organized board talk is miraculous. In some of the best talks that I've attended, the speakers manage to make it look effortless, and it can affect the audience as deeply as a well-practiced musical composition. For the year 2025, I plan to experiment with this form, and get some practice in concision.
(Review/referee duties): The other academic duty in which I have found myself spending a considerable amount of time is writing referee reports for journal articles. I am not sure I have the most efficient system to fulfill this duty, but over the years, I have been getting better at it. This is a job we do (and others do for us) purely as an academic service. It takes a sizeable amount of time; and in Mathematics, you simply have to sit down and verify all the steps and details, which can take longer than planned. A large part of our duties as postgraduate advisors is similar: we proofread articles and theses written by our own students or mentees and check all details before they submit their work.
Sometimes, people outside our immediate academic circles send us their work with a request for feedback; this often reminds me of early faculty days when I started writing to some senior mathematicians for feedback on preprints. Some had never had any prior interaction with me. Almost always, they wrote back and shared extremely helpful inputs. There were also occasions when anonymous referees gave thorough inputs for my submissions, much beyond the "call of duty", so to speak. These inputs and comments not only improved the quality of the article, but also helped shape new ideas for future research.
How do people manage their own thriving research programmes and also take time out to write in detail to people seeking feedback, I wondered. While a desire to help is perhaps at the root of their response, they must have very good personal work habits (and sturdy systems) to be able to do this effectively. Does this develop with practice and experience? Do we develop good systems in response to a strong sense of purpose to serve the academic community, or does one develop a strong sense of purpose by performing such duties, beginning perhaps in small measure, and increasing our capacity with time?
A brilliant example that comes to mind outside of mathematics is that of the celebrated scholar, Mr. Bibek Debroy, who translated several unabridged Sanskrit texts into English, such as the critical edition of the Mahabharata, the Ramayana, and several Puranas ('unabridged' being the key word here, given the size of these texts). In addition to being a prolific writer and translator, he actively read and reviewed books by others in need of feedback. In early November, after his demise, several younger authors paid rich tributes to him; they wrote how he would carve time out of his extremely busy schedule (his duties included being the chairperson of the PM's Economic Advisory Council) to read their work, provide feedback before submission, and also write reviews post publication. Read here a touching tribute by one such author, Abhinav Agarwal, who describes the deep impact of Mr. Debroy's interactions, reviews and feedback on his writing career.
The end of a year is a good time to reflect on things that touched us or taught us something valuable. I have been thinking of scholars such as Bibek Debroy, as well as many others in the mathematical domain, who generously devote their time and energy to encouraging and guiding younger people through reviews and feedback. I am reminded here of something that Professor Aravinda, mathematician and chief editor of the Bhavana Magazine wrote to me when I joined the Bhavana team as a corresponding editor.
While introducing me to the new role, he wrote: "If only we are sensitive to true people's truer sentiments, we can deliver an honest academic service to the world, stamped by the most authentic of documents, and inspire the future -- most importantly, enriching our own lives in the process." I often turn to these words whenever I have a selfish urge to give up editorial/referee-related work because it is "not counted for promotion".
No comments:
Post a Comment