Novice Academician

While having a conversation with my wife, she asked me question, "Who inspired you to blog?"

The question sets my train of thoughts in motion. I looked back in to my glorious but forgotten past. It was in 2007 when I first ventured into blogging.

Back then, I was working as a SRF and have been following a few blogs that were published by professors on science and engineering topics. At some point, I believe, reading their articles inspired me to write!

I started a blog and named it after condensed form of my name, sramanujam. It was a wordpress blog. Soon, I changed the name of my blog to Novice Academician, though the domain name remain unchanged.

But I wasn't really an academician then! So I had set my blog's tagline as "not yet; will soon be".

Novice Academician published articles mostly on math, news, heat transfer and other sundries. One of my articles I wrote on conduction, convection and radiation got mentioned in a blog carnival.

"Well, I'm not sure who inspired me to blog. But I started blogging way back in 2007", I replied to my wife.

After a desperate search, I found that waybackmachine has archived my first blog that I had deleted about five years ago! Going through some of the articles that I had published in my earlier blog, my wife asked me, "Why did you delete it?"

Honestly, I don't know! Back then, I never thought that deleting a (first) blog is like orphaning it. But now, I feel very bad for what I did. The only thing that consoles me is the fact that there is a website that archives every website published in the world of internet. In fact, of all the websites I had ever browsed, I now rank web.archive.org higher than highest!

Raincoat

"Why do you want to take your raincoat with you today?", my mom asked. "Its certainly not going to rain today".

How I wished it would rain that moment just to prove that my mom was wrong. Not that I so wanted it to rain though! It was only the previous day that my mom had bought me a new raincoat. Like any new items, I fell in love with it at first sight. I certainly did not want to leave it at home!

"Mom, you only told me that raincoats are like umbrellas. So what if it does not rain today? I can still wear it to get some shade from the sun".

"You have gone nuts", she mocked at my reply. "Here, take this. But be very careful", she warned, handing over the newly bought raincoat to me.

"I will mom", I assured her collecting the bag, inside of which contains the new raincoat, neatly folded.

I could not pay attention to any of the classes that day, for my mind was completely preoccupied with the raincoat. I took it out from its bag and placed it in my lunch bag to show off my prized possession to all my friends. "Let them feel envious", I thought.

The day ended with a final bell followed by reciting of our national anthem. As soon as it ended, I rushed out from my class, got into the first train I could catch and run all the way home.

"Why the hurry?", my mom asked when I reached home and gasped for breath.

"I just want to show you that I took very good care of my raincoat", saying so I opened my school bag only to find everything inside but for my new raincoat.

My little world tumbled down like nine pins. "Where did it go?", I asked myself while searching frantically.

I suddenly realized that I took it out and kept it in my lunch bag. In my haste to reach home, I had forgotten to pick it up from my desk!

What should have been the happiest night ever for me turned into a nightmarish sleepless night. "What if someone saw the raincoat and took it? Will they hand it over at the security office? Or will he take home with him saying finders, keepers?". That night was perhaps the only time in my life I had a sleepless night without having a single cup of coffee.

Next morning, I got up from my bed along with the first ray of sun, brushed, bathed, gulped cereal, grabbed my shoes and ran to the station to catch the first possible train. The school gate was opened only a few minutes ago when I reached it. "I left my raincoat in my class yesterday. Did anyone hand it over to the security office?", I asked our school watchman.

"No son. But the sweepers have just arrived and started their work. Perhaps they can tell you if they find or not", he replied.

From the entrance, I could see that the sweepers have not entered my classroom yet. I ran all the way to the classroom to see if I could find it before them.

I felt a huge relief when I saw the red color lunch bag sitting under my desk. When I approached it, I found the lunch box and water bottle inside. "But where is my raincoat?"

There was only one another school bag on the last bench. Perhaps he was early today and playing some games. "Would he have taken it?".

A part of me encouraged me to see in his bag, while the other half warned me against such thought. Conscience beckoned me to open the bag where I found my new raincoat, neatly folded. I felt elated in finding my raincoat again that I did not want to confront my classmate for stealing. After all, it was my mistake!

That evening, I made a conscious effort to pick my lunch bag with my raincoat inside. When I reached home, my mom asked: "Did you find it?".

"Yes! I replied", only to realize that this time I forgot to pick my lunch bag when I got down from the train!

Turning Points: Young Jammy Came Out of School in Flying Colors.

The year was 1999. One misty March morning, young Jammy, then a class XII student, was summoned by the newly joined Physics teacher to her room.

"Ma'am, you asked me to come and meet you", he said entering the teacher's office.

"Yes, come in", she said. She stopped evaluating the term test papers, kept the bundle aside and asked him, "How much do you think you'd have scored in the term test young boy?"

"I'm not sure Ma'am", he replied, his face lowered.

"I saw your report card. Your performance was consistently poor in all the tests conducted so far", the teacher said with a concern.

"Focus on MPC. That's what will get you into Engineering", young Jammy recollected what his brother said at the starting day of Class XII.

"But what is MPC brother?"

"Maths, Physics and Chemistry. It's enough if you score a pass mark on other subjects", his brother advised him.

"If you do not take your studies seriously, you are going to fail my dear boy", the teacher said, breaking his chain of thoughts.

Jammy looked out of the room through the window staring into the empty sky. The rising sun had made the mist disappear by then. "I'm saying this because I know that you are from the general quota, and you need to score well to get admission in a good college", the teacher said, trying to catch his attention. "At least, try not to fail in any of the subjects", she added in a dictating voice.

He thanked the teacher silently and left her office. After a few weeks, Jammy went again to meet the teacher, but this time without a summon. The exam results were announced by then. Seeing that she was busy with his classmates, he waited outside of her room. He could have entered inside, for she was congratulating only his classmates for their scores and suggesting them to apply in the best university. But he opted to wait so that he can meet her alone.

Though the teacher was aware of his presence outside of her room, she did not want to meet him. She thought she was not ready yet to hear the bad news when the other boys were telling her about their remarkable performances and how they are going to apply in some of the best universities towards their graduation.

After a while, when everyone left, she called Jammy in. "So, how many subjects did you fail?", she asked.

"None", he replied.

With a big expression on her face, she asked the next question, "How much did you score then?"

When she was expecting the score in 40 to 45% range, he replied "84%" silently and left her office.

Jammy scored his first centum

"If you are named after a mathematician, it does not mean you will score centum in mathematics. Be happy with what you have got, instead of coming to me and asking for more marks", the teacher said.

Aged 12, I did not understand then, what my name had to do with my request! "I am not begging for more marks", I wanted to say! "I am only asking her to award me what I deserve!", I said to myself.

Things had become difficult for me to comprehend, ever since I had been moved from my primary school to another one, for my secondary education. The profiles of the two schools were so different that it took me a few months to accept the contrast! While the entire strength in my primary school was about 500, the strength of 7th standard to which I was admitted then, alone counted up to that number!

"There were twenty questions of five marks each in the paper. I answered all the twenty questions, all of which you have marked correct. Yet, you have given me only 95 out of 100! It's a totaling mistake", I pointed out to the teacher.

"Listen son! I am a social studies teacher. I came here only to distribute the math test papers because your math teacher is on leave today. If you think you are marked wrongly for a problem, you can ask her to verify your answers when she comes to your class next", she said. Apparently she did not even look at my answer script!

"Ma'am, please have a look at my script. If you can point me to a question for which my answer is marked wrong, I will withdraw my request", I requested.

"It's just a totaling mistake", I repeated.

She took my answer script and re-totaled, only to find that the marks counted to a centum. Not satisfied, she gave the answer script to a student who was sitting at the front desk, asking him to total again. "Centum Ma'am", he said.

Striking off the 95 marks against the total column, she wrote 100, while telling me "Let me see how much you will score in the social studies paper"

That evening, I jumped in joy as soon as I reached home and shouted out on top of my voice, to my mom, "I scored centum in math". After all, there was no way for her to find out that I would fail in the social studies paper, until she received my report card!

The White Rat

Preamble: But how long can they allow this to happen? It has to stop right? Well, it did stop, but only after one more year was passed.

Her name is Sumathi. I liked her the first time I saw her.

During the summer holidays, a rift between the principal and a teacher forced the teacher to quit, who later started a school on her own. Being very close to the teacher, my mom decided to put me in the new school to continue with my studies, which few of my batch mates too joined along with me.

It was in that new school that Sumathi joined as a teacher.

It happened 25 years ago! It is now difficult for me to recall the reasons why I liked her, after all these years! But I liked her so much the first time I saw her, draped in a Saree, entering the upper kinder garden class (UKG) to which I recently got promoted after writing the annual exam sitting on my mom's lap.

She must have heard my stories from the new headmistress, or other teachers who came from my previous school, for the first day she came to my class, she made me sit next to her and paid special attention to me. Soon, as if she was holding a magic wand, I started writing numbers, alphabet, and words sitting next to her, ahead of everyone else.

Her special liking towards me earned a nick 'as fast as a rat', which later became 'the white rat', thanks to my milky white complexion that she liked (I am not trying to sound racial here!).

No wonder, she soon became the second person whom I wrote or recited the rhymes too. And she, in turn, never failed to praise me for my achievements, which made me feel proud and instilled confidence in me, the necessary ingredient to overcome the fear I had of my taller and stronger classmates.

At last, the principal was so pleased to hear that the kid who once refused to write to any teachers, started to read/write in the classroom, along with his batch mates.

In one life that we live, there are people who help us and later expects a favor in return. Some will help us because they are friends, while others help us because they are family/relatives. But there are few who comes in our life when we most wanted them to, help us in evolving into a better person, and leave without a trace when their job is done.

Sumathi miss is one such person.

Not many of us will remember the troubles we had made during those innocent days, which, in addition to their other family issues, always handled it in the best of our interest.

It is hard to believe that the person who instilled confidence in me, helped me to overcome the shyness I had with my taller and stronger fellow mates, nurtured my curiosity and answered my questions, handled all the troubles I had made in those days, is no more in this world.

Dear Sumathi miss, this white rat will always remember you, for you are the reason behind "I am what I am".

Jammy - The Observer

"Raghav pinched  Prabha. She slapped him back. Raghav pinched her again and slapped her as well. She started crying.

The teacher shouted at Ravi for shitting in the classroom. Later, she took him somewhere and when they returned after a while, he was not wearing his trousers.

Abi lost her slate, took her friend's instead and argued it was hers. When her mother found the truth, she beats her for telling a lie", sitting under a shady tree in the school playground, little jammy was narrating the day to day's incidents to his mom.

It was a recess then. Kids were playing seesaw and other games while boys were being fed by their parents and were prepared for their next session.

"And what were you doing all the time, my son", asked his mom in reply.

"Observing them", he replied, his eyes gazed at a distance.

There could be two reasons for why I chose to be an observer from a distance, instead of being social from close. I was the youngest of all in my classroom and that made me see my fellow students as the ones who are bigger and stronger than me!

The other reason which I think could be closer to truth is my wildcard entry to my L.K.G. My teachers were so confident that I will learn everything from my mom's lap instead of from the classroom and for that reason, they left me to be on my own.

Perhaps, I am the only student from my school to have written my annual examination from home, sitting on my mom's lap!

But how long can they allow this to happen? It has to stop right? Well, it did stop, but only after one more year was passed.

Little Jammy went to school

My life did not have a perfect start. In fact, had it not been for my mom's observative eyes and ears, I would not have been ended up here in IIT Madras, working on one of the most challenging problems of my time.

It was in the winter of '84 when my mom took me to the nearby church school for admission. I was two years and one month old then!

"We don't have a separate classroom for Pre.K.G students, ma'am. But your son is too young to be put in with the L.K.G students", said the sister, a nun, who is also the headmistress of the school.

She knows I do not have many kids to play around near my home, and so I had to be put up in school so that I get to play and socialize with new friends of my age. But that just did not happen! Dejected, my mom held my hand and took me back home.

Back at home, I was left to play on my own, while my mom went on to mind her cooking and housekeeping business. Sitting in the room's corner where I was allowed to play under watchful eyes from my mom, I mumbled something which I think was A, B, C, D...

"You recited all the alphabets, numbers from 1 to 100 and most of the Tamil and English nursery rhymes in the next 6 months", recalled my mom, when I met her recently and was discussing my brother's two-year-old daughter's education. "However, you were not given an admission even in the following April of '85!"

"Your son did not write any alphabet today and does not seem to know any numbers at all ma'am" complained the sister to my mom. "Maybe", she continued, "it's too early for him. I would suggest you wait for one more year before you can put him in school. He is just two and a half years old now!"

"We do not have a choice but to turn down your application once again. We are sorry for your kid, but we will surely admit him next year", the sister said that in an assured voice.

There were about 25 to 30 parents then, waiting to get their kids admitted to the school on that day, recalled my mom. And she did not like the idea of asking me to wait for one more year.

"Why should you be asked to wait for one more year, when you are able to recite all the alphabets and numbers and most of the rhymes which even the L.K.G kids are not capable of?" My mom must have asked me that question then.

I do not exactly remember what happened then, but my mom recalled the following:

"I know you would not let me down. I know you will write all the alphabets and numbers to me. Son, will you do it now? In front of all these people who think that you do not know anything?"

Asking me thus, my mom took a slate and a chalk, made me sit on her lap and told me to write. Like a magic, I started writing A, B, C till Z, and then 1,2,3 till 20 and recited some rhymes in English, enough to impress everyone out there.

And that's how I was taken into L.K.G, while I was only two and a half year old!