Not your Ma'am

 Reflections on a few things that I was thinking about in January:

1) Not your Ma'am

The other day, someone on X (formerly, Twitter) left a reply on a tweet. Soon after that, they left another tweet apologizing for not addressing me as "Ma'am". This made me think more about appropriate ways of addressing faculty members, senior colleagues, peers that we are communicating with for the first time, and of course, people with whom we interact on social media. At IISER, several students address their teachers by their first names. But, many students prefer sticking to the time-honoured tradition of "Sir/Ma'am".  

Professional, polite and mutually respectful interactions involve more than modes of address. While it's not exactly rocket science, this aspect does involve more effort than choosing a form of addressing each other. It includes, for example,

A) writing emails with complete sentences, 

B) showing up on mutually decided meeting hours on time or letting the other person know in advance of any delay or change in plans, 

C) making reasonable requests (such as informing the instructor well in advance if you are requesting for a reference letter, providing them all the documents that will help them write the letter and following up closer to the deadline), and 

D) learning to conduct smooth discussions on matters of disagreement (such as when the student and the instructor differ on the grades that the former should receive, or when two colleagues have a difference of opinion).

The above contribute much more to an atmosphere of academic freedom and meaningful exchange of ideas than choosing (or not choosing) to call someone by name. 

Some (not all) of my senior colleagues insist on being called by their first names, and can even be a little fanatic about it. They feel that if a younger person is addressing them with titles and honorifics, it will prevent them from freely sharing their thoughts. The younger folks do not necessarily believe this to be the case. I have never held back from expressing my views based on how I am addressing the other person: obstacles to free expression usually arise from how the other person reacts, especially if they are in a position of power over you. 

At the same time, I can see a distinct advantage in insisting early on that your younger peers call you by name. When former students and mentees become colleagues, it is unbearably awkward to continue to be called "Ma'am" by them . But, it is also awkward for the younger person to change the mode of reference.  Nevertheless, the change has to be made, and it's probably easier to do it sooner than later [1]. 

It is totally okay to call your instructor by name (especially if you are making an effort on Points A-D, where the real work lies). It's even more okay if you pronounce/spell the name correctly.

2) The choice will make itself

The spring semester is a time of great churn. Our second year BS MS students are now in the process of making a decision about what they want to major in. The PhD admission and postdoctoral application season has started. Many people, while navigating between different entrance exams (such as NET, GATE, NBHM etc) and multiple applications, are trying to determine whether they want to walk down the academic path or consider alternative careers. In many cases, there are at least two options that look equally attractive. In some cases, one option seems to be what they really want, whereas the other option appears to offer better worldly benefits. A common conundrum among students who talk to me is to choose between majoring in physics versus mathematics. "I like both the subjects, and the thought of choosing one over the other is causing me a great deal of anxiety and FOMO," said a student. 

As the person in most of these conversations who has been through the process a "few" more times than them, my advice is that they keep brainstorming the advantages and disadvantages of each choice. That they use this as an opportunity to sharpen their decision-making powers by considering multiple angles and perspectives. That they also use this as an opportunity to draw within themselves to recognize (possibly for the first time) what will personally make them happy. I am reminded of a silly dialogue from a movie that had come out when I was about to start my Master's. "Close your eyes," said a character to another. "Who do you see? That's the one for you." Go ahead, adapt this principle to your career choices as well, I joked with a student. Close your eyes, and imagine you are in a beautiful, cosy study room with a big window and a view of beautiful mountains with sunlight filtering in. There's a hot cup of coffee next to you. What do you see yourself doing? "I see myself working with a pen and paper," said the student. To me, that pretty much seals the choice. But it could also mean theoretical physics, the student suggests. 

One cannot deny the absolute importance of individual agency in making life decisions. An unrelenting, thorough reflection on our choices sharpens our logical reasoning, mental resilience, and self-awareness. It gives us the courage to take complete responsibility for our choices (to completely "own them", in popular parlance).  But what finally happens is also based on several factors beyond our control or current knowledge. Can you predict that a pandemic will break out? Can you possibly foresee a diplomatic storm ensuing between your country and the one you wanted to study in? Did the flight/train to your job interview get cancelled [2]? Did the professor you wanted to work move away soon after you joined the university?

On a more pleasant note, while you are more or less ready to move to Field A, you may suddenly end up listening to a beautiful lecture in Field B that will miraculously change your mind. You may meet a wise person during a journey or a conference (or both) who will make you re-evaluate your priorities [3]. 

One must think carefully about all of our choices. At the "moment of reckoning", however, it is highly likely that the choice will make itself. 

3) Give it time

Social media recently erupted with discussions about 70 hour and 90 hour work weeks. Such discussions often touch a raw nerve, as most of us navigate multiple demands on our time, and there is always unfair judgement on what we choose to allot less (or more) time to. 

If we sign up for something or accept a responsibility, there is no substitute to giving it the time that it needs. Every aspect of work, personal or professional, needs time. We hope that before taking something on, we carefully consider the time that it will take, and then take a call based on the availability of time to us. But, more often than not, a task takes longer than we thought it would, and as functioning adults, we do our best to rise to the situation. 

Solving new problems or proving new theorems is that aspect of a mathematician's work that takes much longer than one thought it would. We lose track of time spent on it, and I have never heard any scientist complaining about the amount of time it took them to finish a project: this is often narrated with pride and joy. On a similar note, I have never met a colleague or friend in academia who complained about devoting time to preparing good lectures, either for their courses or for conferences/seminars.

There are other parts of our job which also take time: peer review (including referee reports for journal submissions, writing reference letters for job candidates and PhD applicants), committee work, and mentoring students who may not be directly working with us but reach out for support or guidance. Our reputation is built on the integrity with which we execute these tasks, and all of it directly depends on how much time we allot to it. 

In the last few years, I have blogged a lot about learning to bring structure and consistency over long periods of time to meet goals that seemed challenging. Occasionally, I have also reflected upon how long it takes for growth to happen and for something to come to fruition: a research idea, a book, or career milestones. My personal growth and mental health have skyrocketed after I made a simple pact with myself: that I would give any task the time that it needs without judgement or anxiety. 

It seems that both the industry leaders who brought up the issue of work hours wanted to encourage their employees to have ambitious goals befitting their abilities, and devote the time needed to meet those goals. Instead, at least one of them ended up issuing statements that sounded condescending and even crass. Framing your views thoughtfully before communicating them also takes time.

Footnotes:

[1] The Bengalis seem to have evolved a working solution to this problem: they follow the middle path, and simply add "Da" or "Di" while calling older people by their names. This can remain constant even as one graduates through different career stages,

[2] This has happened to me. On a January morning several springs ago, I boarded a flight to go for a job talk in another city, but the flight never took off. The runway was being used by some aircrafts for Republic Day practice. 

[3] Yes, it does sound over-the-top, but both have happened to me, and to some others I know.

On conference talks and editorial duties

"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".

Thoughts on a semester gone by

Some time in the middle of January, after concluding a three-month long stretch of nearly back-to-back travel (mostly for conferences), I was relieved to be back at my work desk. The Spring 2024 semester had just started, and a plan for the next four months (which, fortunately, did not involve any travel) had been chalked out: there was a course to be taught, and a couple of research projects to be pursued. Preparation had to be made for upcoming departmental evaluations, and plenty of reviewing work loomed ahead. In addition, buoyed up by my self-discipline (most of the time) in eating habits during this particular phase of travel, I resolved to give my best to personal fitness goals for the few travel-free months ahead. I now saw the "home front" as a valuable resource to be leveraged (and guarded zealously) for personal and professional goals. 

I've had varying degrees of successes and challenges in different activities. Let me start with a mini-success: I've kept a regular running, Yoga and strength-training routine going over the last few months, in addition to a well-balanced diet. As a result, I am now down to a weight that I last enjoyed more than 12 years ago, and continue to make progress. Both my gym trainer and Yoga instructor have expressed satisfaction at my improvement in exercise performance and Asana practice; in fact, the Yoga instructor has encouraged me to move up to the next level of training. In June 2024, I will start training at the intermediate level (up from the newcomer to continuing beginner level at which I have trained until now) at Pune's most formidable Yoga institute, and have to make an even bigger commitment to regularity, concentrated efforts and personal practice.

Yoga is not for narcissists. It gives you a sharp reality-check about what you've been doing to yourself all these years. It forces you to face your weaknesses squarely, and work on them with patience and humility. Needless to say, the larger goal of Yoga practice is for this attitude to expand to other areas of life beyond the Yoga mat, and life does give you plenty of opportunities (and hard knocks) to apply these learnings.

Post mid-semester, one challenge after another presented itself. Some of these challenges were pleasant in as much as I looked forward to doing the work to meet them. For example, one of my research projects is currently going through a phase of trial and error in which we are trying many different techniques to execute an important calculation. No sense of intuition is coming to our aid to suggest a way forward, and we continue to hammer on. Another interesting thing that happened was that in my class of six well-prepared and motivated students, we managed to finish more than 90 % of the syllabus before the midsem. Based on student feedback and requests, we moved to an advanced topic which was, frankly, quite new to me as well. The lecture preparation took very long, and cut into the time reserved for other work, including research projects, but has been a valuable learning experience (certainly for me, and hopefully for the students as well). Nevertheless, challenges in research and teaching only motivate us to work harder, and every little step of progress brings joy.

The problem arises when academic challenges such as the above are overshadowed by other incidents that are not in alignment with our professional training and goals. In the last couple of weeks, the institute collectively faced an unexpected and distressing situation, which drained out a good deal of energy and enthusiasm from many of us. As I prepared myself to face the situation with patience and resilience, it took much of the sheen off my academic activities: my primary energies, which should have gone into research and teaching, were now occupied in apprehending what was to come next. Thanks to the persistent efforts of our registrar, and proactive engagement by some of my colleagues, the situation is now resolved. 

I wish I could say with honesty that I welcomed the new experience, and that I am grateful for it. But, I cannot. The only silver lining through this whole episode was that it taught me to show up for everything else in my schedule, including research, teaching, and workout sessions without making excuses. It also taught me that however terrible or anxious you are feeling, spending time doing math and pursuing fitness activities (basically, following your structure to meet your own goals) helps. Sometimes, "self-care" just means getting your work done so that a situation does not get worse. This was my lesson for the semester: how not to make things worse for myself and others.

On dreaming versus preparing for nightmares

The other day, a friend, while preparing for a trip to a city in USA, mentioned that he was nervous about the travel. This was surprising to me: this is a well-traveled, resourceful person, with travel experience to numerous countries (including a good number, where he did not speak the native language). What's more, he has managed multiple travel crises through the pandemic. For example, in a previous trip to USA, his flight from conference-city to New York got canceled (one among 1500 flights that got canceled in USA on that day).  He could not find a bus reservation and the train journey was not an option as a building had collapsed on the railway track. Through all of this, he managed to reach the New York airport a few hours in advance, and worked his charm on the check-in staff to get transferred to another flight (at no additional cost), which brought him straight to Delhi instead of a long haul at London Heathrow (which, as we all know, would have been another disaster). With this experience, I reminded him how he was the "Travel Ratna" of our social circle, but the encouragement did not work much. 

Was he growing old, he wondered. Or, was the concern coming from the vast outrage factory called social media? Or, was he just tired and needed a good sleep before starting the 26 hour journey (including airport transfers)? Last I heard, he has reached his destination safely. He  informed us in our WhatsApp group that it was one of the most pleasant journeys he had made. He walked comfortably to a hotel nearby, and realized that all the social media fears about the city were grossly exaggerated. We hope he has an equally pleasant travel back to India. Nevertheless, I completely relate to what he was feeling.

This made me think: as students, we used to take travel mishaps in our stride, or at the very least, not worry about them so much beforehand, even while living on a shoestring budget. As a grown up, on the other hand, with far better finances to handle adversities, I often find myself ruminating elaborately on things that can go wrong. Like the gentleman above, I also wonder if this is a function of getting older and `less' indestructible. Or is it that in the post-Covid world, with airline botch-ups far more frequent than we have been used to, and the airline staff far less efficient and polite in dealing with them, it's impossible not to think of what can go wrong?

Why have some of us turned us into the kind of people who no longer dream of the exciting possibilities of journeys to interesting destinations for interesting reasons [even though we say yes to invitations and plan for such travel as a matter of course]? Why do we keep thinking about what could go wrong until we are back home? Did the sudden, unexpected onset of Covid, in which the world had to live with uncharacteristic arrangements and unexpected losses for more than 2 years, make our collective resilience brittle?

Facing challenging situations makes us strong and resilient. But, it can also make us wary of having to face similar situations all over again, now that we are aware of the immense possibilities of things going wrong. How many of us say, "hello adventure, come get me" before starting a long travel, versus those who start by saying wistfully, "hope this won't be as bad as the last time"? And, in all honesty, how many are still able to take the middle ground and say, "let's take a step at a time and see what happens" without feeling queasy?

I tend to gravitate between the second and the third category. Before any long journey or multi-city travel, I break things down into "small steps" and list them out. A step could be as small as getting through the security counter. Then, as the journey proceeds and each step gets completed, it is "checked off the list". With each item checked off the list, I feel better. I also try not to think later about what went wrong during a step as long as the step gets completed eventually. This is hard, but I am getting better. Basically, I am trying to organize things with a hope that breaking them down into small steps also breaks down unexpected shocks into smaller, tolerable shocks. That is, I try to take one step at a time and hope that even if something is "as bad as the last time", the shock will come in small instalments. Perhaps, there is a hidden hope that anticipating potential shocks can lead to happiness when the shocks don't come. 

But, why be so obsessed with shocks? I hope to work my way back into the first category of "hello adventure, come get me"people. I want to be that person again who dreams of the exciting possibilities before starting, and not the person who laboriously prepares for nightmares. But, was I ever that person? I hope it is not too late to be so for the first time. 

Finally, may I just say that whatever was written above about travel is a metaphor for a lot of situations I am facing right now, including challenging research projects?

Twitter threads (on life choices, long walks, movies and math)

I do not have many new things to write about from my part of the academic garden. Instead, I would like to put together some of my older X/Twitter threads on assorted topics such as life choices, long walks, travels, a movie, and mathematics. Here they are.

1) On authentic life choices: Some time ago, a younger colleague in her early 30s was a little upset. "I've been made to feel that I'm too energetic, too excitable, too caring, too much in one way or another...like I'm a handful - not worth the trouble", she said. This reminded me of receiving similar comments when I was at her life and career stage. This made me reflect on how life evolves through the 20s and 30s, and how the authenticity in our choices has a bearing on 40s. This led to the following thread: link.

[Note: I use the 20s, 30s and 40s only as notional place-holders in a strictly limited and personal context. The timelines are different for each individual.]

2) Trek to Matanga hill and parallels with a life in science: Hampi is a beautiful travel destination. It used to be the centre of the Vijayanagara empire several centuries ago. Exploring the temples, monuments and the overall landscape of this region is an invigorating exercise that brings us closer to our history and heritage. In 2022, I wrote a thread on a long walk/trek up the Matanga Hill. The trek made me reflect on many parallels with a life in research (more generally, a life in any creative pursuit). I wrote a thread on these reflections: link. 

3) Another nice walk in Hampi: Hampi has several paths for those who like to go on long, meditative walks. Our favourite walk is on a trail from the Virupaksha temple to the Vitthala temple complex. We took this walk again in December 2023, and I wrote a thread here: link.

To my pleasant surprise, this thread received a lot of engagement. Many people shared pictures and stories from their own trips to Hampi, and also suggested other long walking/hiking routes which we hope to explore in future trips. 

4) A trip to Srinagar: Based on a recent trip to Srinagar, this thread is very close to my heart: link. I enjoyed every aspect of this trip: the beauty of Kashmir, pleasant interactions with eager students and the Kashmiri community, and the revival of memories from previous trips 25 years ago. For some strange reason, the link to the above thread misses two tweets at the end: see here.

On a related note, the trip also made me think carefully about my career goals and mathematical activities that matter. These reflections were also shared in this blog post. 

5) Biopic on Shakuntala Devi: On a lighter note, in 2020, I wrote some comments on the movie "Shakuntala Devi" (starring Vidya Balan in the pivotal role): link.

This led to another thread. 

6) On some exceptional Indian women mathematicians: Shakuntala Devi is often described in popular culture as "India's most famous woman mathematician". But, what does it mean to do mathematics? Is mathematics all about performing massive computations? Or is there more to it? I wrote a thread here, elaborating upon these questions. The thread contains examples of some inspiring Indian women mathematicians who have made a big difference through their research, teaching and mentoring. The thread was written for India Wants to Know.

7) The early days of the Journal of the Indian Mathematical Society: While gathering information for a biographical piece on the distinguished number theorist Sarvadaman Chowla, I learnt about a rather surprising "enabler" of mathematical talent in the early 20th century. This source nurtured (and in turn, was nurtured by) many, including Ramanujan: The Journal of the Indian Mathematical Society. Here's a thread: link.

On a related note, my biographical piece on Sarvadaman Chowla appeared in the Bhavana magazine, and can be found here.

Do also check out the archives of the Bhavana magazine for high quality mathematics writing (essays, biographies, interviews and more). The writing is accessible to non-specialists who have an interest in mathematics, especially in the creative and cultural aspect. 

On work-travel balance and other matters

In the early days of this blog, I would sometimes write "random" posts, that is, posts with short snapshots of multiple work-life thoughts (see, for example, here and here). I am reviving the random "series" again. Here are some thoughts on work-travel balance, accountability to goals, and facing the reviewer "within". 

1) After several days of travel across India (from Kashmir to Kerala), mostly for work, and occasionally for a break, a relatively calmer and more stable routine at home has brought some relief. It's great to be invited to deliver talks, and to travel to interesting destinations, but if we don't balance it with quiet, focused days at the study desk, how will we have new things to talk about? A well-structured life at home is great: you have a regular work routine around your research work, teaching schedule and meetings. You wake up in the morning thinking about the sunrise and next steps in your projects (or the lecture material for your next class), and not about the next flight to catch.  This makes it so much easier to focus on "deep" work. You get to have your cups of coffee exactly the way you like them and at the times you want them. You have complete control over your meals and over your work-out schedule (and access to the gym).Nevertheless, at this career stage, travel is only going to get more frequent in the coming years. One will have to flexibly adapt to different routines and time zones, not to mention, meal options and coffee times (if, at all, coffee is a possibility). One will have to learn to stay calm while dealing with the vagaries of flight delays, missed connections, cancellations, airport transfers etc. 

I believe that in this phase of travel, I made a lot of progress in dealing with all the disruptions and changes. I prepared all my talks well before the travel, and this itself took a lot of the stress away [1]. While I relish my early-morning coffee at home, I no longer feel disturbed when I can't get it. I do manage to make healthy meal choices based on what is available, and have also learnt to travel with a Yoga mat and Yoga props (which can be easily folded into the suitcase). Pretty much anywhere in the country, academics are blessed with good campuses with safe and pleasant routes to walk/run on. So, I have learnt to be responsible about my health while traveling. If I could develop the resilience to show up to my morning writing hours with focus during travel, the work-travel balance will essentially be sorted out. Question: is it possible to adapt to travel so seamlessly that one doesn't feel any difference between being at home and being away from home? 

2) Talking about Yoga, last week, as I was recovering from a hard day at work, I had this sudden wish to miss my Yoga class. I wrote to the instructor with a request to record the class, which I would practice later on my own. However, within a few minutes of the start time of the class, I started feeling very restless: it felt as if I was missing out on something substantial: so, I did show up for the class and participated in the remaining part of the class. I was sufficiently rejuvenated after the class to prepare two classes for the math course that I am teaching this semester. 

The next day, I went about my routine as planned, and wondered what would have happened if I had indeed missed the Yoga class. In addition to the mental regret, it is almost certain that I would not have practised it on my own, thereby missing important instructions that would be needed in the next class. Or even if I did, I would have had to carve out an hour away from some other activity, and then, there would be a cascading effect of making up for lost time in a variety of urgent activities. Some important activities would have to be put aside for later. Unlike a rolling stone that gathers no moss, rolling time schedules do gather moss, and the time taken to finish an activity only increases with each postponement. Showing up with a sense of responsibility and accountability, and not caving into the "all or nothing" approach keeps the days rolling smoothly. 

3) A strong motivating factor in showing up for scheduled activities every day is to remember the larger goals. But, for that, one needs to have larger goals. In different conversations with two colleagues recently, we discussed this point.  Some activities that force us to reflect on our goals are writing grant proposals, and preparing evaluation reports. Both of these activities help us to think about our vision: what is our story, and in what direction are we taking it forward? How is the story shaping up, and what parts of the story need more development? In many cases, when we write for an audience who are not necessarily working in our area of expertise, we also have to compose and present our goals more creatively. Well before we hear back from the evaluation committee or the grant agency, our own "inner" reviewer gives us a fairly accurate feedback on where we stand as researchers, provided we care to listen. Among my friends and colleagues, we share a lot of jokes (and internet memes) about writing grant proposals: but, I have never felt that time spent on writing one was wasted (even if the proposal was not successful). In fact, on a recent occasion, I finished a research project with my PhD student based on one of the goals I had written in a proposal. As a pleasant surprise, I heard about the acceptance of the article as well as the successful approval of the grant around the same time. This was so encouraging: I am now motivated to develop the other parts of the "story" of which this project was a part. While writing the grant proposal, the co-PI and I had a very good feeling about it: our "inner" reviewers appreciated the honesty, clarity and sense of purpose with which we wrote it, taking into account our respective expertise and the themes that could be developed in collaboration. Even if the application was not successful, we promised each other that we will continue working on these ideas. But, as it turns out, the peer reviewers also felt the same way about the project: we got the entire amount we asked for, and it will enable us to hire two postdoctoral fellows to join our project. 

This was a rare occasion when our evaluators agreed with our own inner assessment of our goals and work. Papers and grant proposals get rejected frequently, and often, the reviewers may not share our own assessment (and this can go in both directions). Most of us just get on with it, especially if our inner reviewer gave us an honest feedback (good or bad), and we have a healthy mechanism to face it. It makes me wonder: when we feel a strong sense of revulsion towards review or evaluation in any form, do we fear confronting the external reviewers or the reviewer within?

[1] Yes, I have had phases in past life when I prepared for talks during flights, but have given up on this in the interest of my mental health. If one really needs to work on a flight, the no-internet time is much better utilized by working on new problems.

Chandigarh

I am visiting IISER Mohali to attend the annual Ramanujan Mathematical Society Meeting.  I am preparing for my talk tomorrow – so, this won’t be a very linear post.  Just some random thoughts:

1)   I have now visited four of the IISERs: Kolkata, Pune, Bhopal and Mohali.  All have their own advantages and special qualities, but in terms of accessibility, the institutes at Pune and Mohali easily score over the others. 

2)   It’s a different matter that traveling from Pune to Chandigarh isn’t all that easy.  There is only one flight from Delhi to Chandigarh, which leaves Delhi at 9.45 am.  So, one has to either travel to Mumbai to catch a flight, take an early morning 5.30 am flight from Pune to Delhi or take a later flight from Pune to Delhi and then travel from Delhi to Chandigarh by bus or train.  Interestingly, there is a direct flight from Bhopal to Chandigarh (which halts at Delhi).

3)   I have a special relation with Chandigarh.  It was my favourite childhood destination.  We lived in a small town called Dagshai in Himachal Pradesh and were lucky enough to get a house on the top of a hill, from where one could see vast expanses of Chandigarh.  Dagshai was where my father bought his first car (a Maruti 800) and we often drove to Chandigarh.  At that time, Sector 18 was the “happening” part of the city.   I had ice cream for the first time here.  This is a very short visit: but if I come back later for a longer visit, I would love to go there.  I wish I could also revisit the rock garden and the Pinjore gardens.

So much for now.

Some sources of delight

Taking a U-turn from my last couple of posts, I thought I will write in today about some small but very positive developments at N1 that have brought back my happiness quotient to its normal level.

1) We are going to follow up Dr Rock Star's successful visit to our campus last year by yet another winter school around his upcoming visit.  We have already received several applications by students interested in participating in this school.  What's more, other than Dr Rock Star, yet another scientist, Dr Rock-Star-In-Making will also visit us at the same time and deliver lectures.  RSIM was my colleague in my first postdoc university and has done some excellent and path-breaking work since then.  He is also known to be a very good teacher and his visit will motivate our students a lot.  Our department is going to rock this winter!!

2) My teaching this semester has been going well.  I am teaching this course for the second time and feel that this semester, I am doing a much better job at it than last year.  Although the students in both batches were very good, this particular batch is extremely motivated and enthusiastic.  This year, I have also been typing up course notes for it and intend to continue with this practice.  Two weeks of classes are still left and I have already covered more material than I could cover in the entire semester last time.  Students have not burnt out yet and are still participating in class eagerly.

3) In a recent shuffling of job allocations for admin staff, the staff members responsible for the functioning of those units which are related to my non-academic duties have changed.  These staff members are very efficient and have made the work smooth.

4) Our department is organizing an institute outreach activity in a town near by, which will be held in January.  In this connection, some members of our department and one of our deans had a meeting with some people from a local council.  As it happened, I was the only person in this meeting who does not speak the language of N1- state.  The dean requested everyone to speak in English.  The council people did not pay heed and continued to talk in their local language.  But, my departmental colleagues and the dean spoke only in English and one colleague also kept translating to me what the locals were saying.  I truly appreciate their thoughtfulness in ensuring that I did not feel isolated or cornered in the meeting.

5) Finally, I totally love the current weather and the greenery around our current location.  If I feel like taking a break, I take a small walk or go for a joy ride on my bicycle.  In general, the ride between my home and department is very pleasant.  In addition, I have explored some paths which are fun to go on- while one goes through a mini forest around a river, the other path goes straight to a nearby government organization with its own residential complex.  My domestic help has sternly warned me against going on the first path alone, not that I listen to her.  While going on the second path, I like to imagine the future (I don't know whether near or distant) when N1 will have its own fully built campus.