Let's catch up for New Year's. What's been happening? Another trip to Pune, another trip to Chennai, and some intense math conferences here at TIFR.
So Anupam, one of the mathematicians in Pune, told me I ought to visit again, to check out the area more and, you know, be sociable. This time I decided to take a bus, to compare the traveling experience. The total time is comparable, but the bus station is inconvenient to reach, and involves taking a train anyways. It was fun to visit Pune again. The math professors there mentioned various troubles facing the math group, but at every turn we agreed that all problems would be solved when the new director Raghuram arrives. (This is the guy who brought me to India.) I stayed at the Guest House again, which spoiled me with meals; most likely I will stay there for a couple months starting this summer.
I learned more about riding in rickshaws. Sreekar (Do you need to review my Pune entry?) composed for me a handy guide of Hindi words I can use when talking to drivers. Learn some with me:
age (pronounced 'ah-gay') = ahead
buss = stop, enough
age se right, age se left = ahead right, ahead left
kitna = how much
acha = good
tikhai (pronounced as the letters TK) = good, it's fine
Try them the next time your taxi driver is Indian!
Here's a picture of me with Baskar at "Little Italy".
I usually suggest Italian food for dinner.
Unfortunately I somehow lost my blogging camera. My best guess is that an Artful Dodger removed it from my pocket while I was on a public bus, but I really don't know. It's tricky to keep a hand on both your wallet and your camera while maneuvering through a shaky bus. That bummed me out, but one of the blog's biggest fans (my mom) has sent me a replacement camera, so it should be business as usual for the New Year.
The next week I returned to Chennai. I wanted to give Amri a solid visit, and had a cute idea for a little project with him, using that paper of his (Do you need to review my Chennai entry?) to understand when certain matrices are conjugate to their transpose. I toured a little bit with one of his students Anil, visiting a pleasant beach area called Mahabalipuram. Anil is a big enthusiastic fellow who reminds you of Tigger, and a ४ ball juggler. We showed off a bit on the lawn while I got sunburnt again. Over the next week, Amri and I had some clarity on the conjugation problem. We reduced the problem to a smaller beast, christened the Jackalope. We plan to play with the Jackalope for a few months, and then submit what promises to be a delightful paper on our findings.
Can this be tamed?
I didn't take any photos of Chennai for the obvious reason, but I did jot down the words of an amusing sign found in the library: "DON'T TEAR BOOK PAGES / INSTEAD / PLEASE ASK FOR XEROX COPY".
A funny thing about TIFR is that it's busiest when most people are on holiday. For Christmas break, it's been nothing but workshops and international conferences. There's a huge one happening here this coming week. So I've been seriously distracted schmoozing it up with old friends and going to math lectures. After I finish this DAI entry, I'm meeting Moshe Adrian to show him around Mumbai. (Why don't you come visit?)
To quickly address some miscellaneous topics:
The yoga class I was going to fizzled out when the instructor left, although I had paid for three months. There's this weird economy here of paying for something before you get it, and then not quite getting what you expect.
The Banyan Tree Jugglers still meet, although it's tough with the conferences. We have club juggling but not yet club passing. Lately, some of the little kids from Dipendra's party have been showing up.
A few weeks ago I arrived home to find the sign "CLEANING BETWEEN 2:30 PM TO 3:30 PM" on the door. For whatever reason, my apartment gets cleaned by like five dudes every weekday here. On a related note, there is nowhere to lock up my valuables. Since I now have an orderly place, I've been inviting people over, even hosting a New Year's Eve celebration last night, mostly with expats.
Reflecting on old friends, so far away...
So hey I'm taking off for a couple weeks in February to properly tour India with some old yoga friends from Norman. Said adventure will be so epic that it will span three blogs. I'm excited. Are you? Happy New Year!
I've done hundreds of juggling shows, but not so many solo ones. My first official juggling performance was during a math camp called the Rutgers Young Scholars Program. Near the end of the program they had a talent show. Since I had brought juggling to RYSP that year, I was encouraged to prepare an act. So as not to be alone up there, I enlisted the aid of another participant who was a pianist, and one of the R.A.'s "Zul", whom I had taught to "steal" my cascade. Our act was called "Piano with Juggling Accompaniment", and it went splendidly. Except that I tried to do a bouncing glow ball routine in the dark without having rehearsed such.
My next big show was at a Talent Night at Pemberton Township High School. I set it up in much the same way: Calculus tutee/piano tutor Darcy Lemaire played piano and schoolyard chum Eric Hanebury helped with partner juggling. I tried to do 5 but froze up. Since then I've been schmoozing with college juggling clubs and rarely wound up doing a solo show. Let's see...I did a Chicago homeless shelter show myself when the rest of JELLY bailed, the 2004 Christmas show at the Max-Planck Institute, Jed's wedding, and 40 tricks for Ralf Schmidt's 40th birthday. You may or may not count a few lectures on Jugglology. As far as I can remember, I managed to rope in some other performer(s) for each of my other shows. My other hundreds of shows. (My Hershey Park summer alone included hundreds.) And this kind of makes sense, because my favorite kind of juggling is club-passing, which of course involves someone else. And it's nice to have some company out there. But my biggest show ever, here in India, was just me.
Every year at TIFR where I work, they have a talent/cultural night in honor of founder Homi Bhabha. It's called Founder's Day, and there is singing, dancing, and theatre. I was told about this and immediately figured I should do some juggling for it. A few days before the show I improvised an audition in front of several important-seeming gentlemen whom I did not know. Mostly because they felt like watching an extra juggling show. Dear Diary I have to tell you that, weird as all this was, being on that auditorium stage reminded me of "home" more than anything else here in India. Like a flashback to my high school theatre summers.
Anyway they set me up with a spot in the show, actually the opening performance. I gradually got the idea that there would be a really big turnout for Founder's Day, and so I should earnestly rehearse and whatnot. Remember my composer friend Caitlin? She kindly prepared the background music for me. Half of it she did herself, as well as the transitions. I won't tell you how awesome it was, because you can just watch the video yourself. But let's just say that if there's a day in which I listen to the soundtrack, then that soundtrack will be playing in my head the whole day. Today for instance. I listened to it as I practiced for the show, and it inspired me to make my tricks measure up.
At the hour of the show I showed up backstage with my juggling equipment, yoga mat, and an apple. I beamed at the gathering audience as I worked out the lighting with the tech crew, and Caitlin negotiated the music. I ran around and found a suitable table to put my stuff on. Many people I did not know shook my hand and wished me luck. I wasn't really nervous; I tried not to wrap my head around it and just go with the flow. If there were some blunders, it wouldn't be the first time. I focused on how much I wanted to show people how cool juggling could be, and moreover some interesting Jugglology and JYoga in action. Let's not think about rings rolling off the stage.
Waiting for my cue
You can see the next 13 1/2 minutes at this link. (I can't upload it here because of copyright, but you should definitely watch it.)
The auditorium was completely packed with families of the scientists and staff who work here, an estimated thousand. If you can't tell from the video, I'm happy to report that it went really well. I did the tricks that I wanted to do, and most of the time I was not dropping. One of my top juggling students, Shiv, makes an appearance, tossing me the third club. In fact, I consider it my greatest solo show ever. I stayed around for the rest of the show. It was all in Hindi, except for this curious number:
During intermission a few kids ran over and sat next to me; I tried to be polite and chat with them a little.
The next day was fun. As I went around campus doing my normal routine, lots of people came up to me to shake my hand and congratulate me on my performance. I'm narcissistic enough that I never get enough of that. Why don't you congratulate me in the comments?
Here is a collection of smaller stories from my time here.
Umbrella:
[This entry would fit between बाजार and माह १.]
Sometime back in Monsoon season I lost my umbrella from the States. This was bad, for example, because every single time I went to yoga there was a downpour. I decided this was a good opportunity to go downtown and figure out a little more about shopping. Now during monsoon season the internet weather reports are basically useless because they always predicts constant rain. At one point when the sky seemed sunny I brought some cash and headed over to the public busstop. As I stood there waiting the sky swiftly darkened and, of course, it started pouring down rain.
The crowd waiting with me reacted like parents at a waterpark, annoyed but almost thrilled at being soaked. Defenseless against the rain, I disembarked at the Colaba Causeway. Somehow I had difficulty finding an umbrella, and was getting more and more drenched, even though I could stay under roofs much of the time. I decided to head towards the "Gateway of India" thinking there would be a hotel area with lots of nice stores and everything I could want.
When I got there I found lots of eager salesmen. I decided to throw myself at their mercy. One of them invited me to look at his store. I asked if I could get an umbrella there, and he said, sure, sure, anything I want. He then proceed to show off several rooms full of fancy rugs and antiques to a dripping wet Steven Spallone. There weren't any umbrellas, so I didn't buy anything. Another salesman approached me. I told him I wanted an umbrella. This young fellow took me under his arm, literally, to the plaza near the Gateway, chatting me up. He knew most of the vendors there, and he asked them all if they had a छाता, which means "umbrella". At one point a man tried to sell me a pink Dora the Explorer छाता. I declined. Eventually, though, we found a suitable छाताand all was well.
He asked if I wanted anything else and I suggested a raincoat. That may have been a mistake. He hustled me over to one of his older colleagues, who insisted that I take a taxi with him to get that raincoat. Being adventurous, I let them push me along. As we left, the younger one said, "Take care of him he is my friend." The taxi drove into the Colaba market which I described earlier, bullying its way through the crowd. When we got out I had to pay २० Rs. for the taxi. We found a store which sold raincoats. There was a nice one for ८०० Rs. I suggested ५०० Rs and wound up paying ६५० Rs. Afterwards my older friend demanded १०० Rs for his help. I was annoyed and gave him ३० Rs. instead and left. In hindsight, I have some remorse about not giving him more, but it annoyed me that we didn't settle things beforehand and that they had pressured me along the way. १०० Rs. is kind of a lot by Indian standards, but not so much ($2) by American standards. Which should I have used? To wrap up this story, I got back safely and stashed the raincoat in my desk; I still haven't used it...
Holidays:
There are lots of holidays here. I went out with the expatriate couple to capture two more holiday scenes on video.
My first video is of Dussehra, a celebration of the slaying of a demon-king by the epic hero Lord Rama. The three of us wandered around downtown hoping to see big statues of the demon Ravana and maybe some theatre. We didn't quite find that, but instead randomly found this delightful little scene:
And then there was Diwali, a celebration of Lord Rama's triumphant return to his homeland. You've probably heard of this. Now, when I was a child, I was told many times and throughout all sorts of media a very important message: Don't Play With Fire! This is such an important message that once a lovable pyromaniac from an adult-oriented cartoon in the U.S. had his catchphrase "Fire! Fire!" censored away. Here in Mumbai, a long line of families gathered along Marine Drive and watched their children dance around fireworks for Diwali. There is a long line of traffic as well, which occasionally gets hit by the fireworks. Take a look; can you see the fear in my friends' eyes?
A traditional use of fireworks is to ward off evil spirits. That must have been us; after I quickly shot those videos, we quickly took off in a cab. I went back to my apartment, which you recall has a nice view, and took this next (narrated) video.
I would say that I definitely prefer the fun outdoor Dussehra scene to the scary dangerous Diwali scene. Of course for grownups I understand that Diwali is more about visiting your family than simulating bombs.
Laundry:
Some of you (my mom) have asked about what doing laundry is like on this side of the hemisphere. Well it's pretty much what you might expect. I bring my laundry in a large bucket to a big machine on the 4th floor of my apartment building. I put detergent and laundry into this machine and then return in half an hour to gather it up. I hang up the laundry mostly on a clothesline outside my bedroom window. It is best to dry them outside because otherwise my apartment gets humid and books get damaged. Birds also hang out on that clothesline, which means I sometimes have to wash certain garments twice. So that's the system when it works.
Once when the 4th floor machine was occupied, I tried the 3rd floor machine. This was a mistake; here is what happens when you use it. The machine will report that everything is going fine. After a few minutes you will return to your room and watch TV or something. When you return it will not be working, claiming an unbalanced load. You fix the load, turn it back on and repeat. This will happen for the rest of the night. The timer will reset everytime you fix the unbalanced load. Eventually in the dead of night you realize you are completely wasting your time. You give up, remove your soggy clothes and hang them up dripping wet in your apartment. Actually this has been a metaphor for bureaucracy in India, leading us to...
Occupy the Telephone Exchange:
Sometimes it's a little hard to figure out how things work around here. You learn things mostly through word of mouth, and constantly rely on others for even basic things. Let's talk about how to get internet at the TIFR housing colony. Early on, I heard that my colleagues have internet at their apartments. With internet at home I could, for example, call my friends, colleagues, and family overseas in privacy. It would be disruptive not to have it.
Word on the street was that I should get this through the "Telephone Exchange" in the TIFR building. On September 1st, I told them I wanted internet at my apartment. They trotted out a list for me to sign up on. A couple weeks later I returned and asked how it was coming along. I was told that there were about ten people ahead of me on the list, and that I may have to wait a month or maybe more. There are evidently not enough connections for everyone. A month later I returned, and was told that exact same thing. Instead of being given a definite time, I was told again that I would "need to be patient". Now, I had discussed this matter with others, and knew what my next step would be. When I first got here, I was introduced to various people and told that I should ask certain of them for help if I "have any problems". After my pathetic second visit to the Exchange, I solicited those people for help. Within a week the Exchange promised to set me up with internet...as soon as they bought a new modem... Two more weeks later absolutely no progress was made on that. So starting October 31, I decided to "Occupy the Telephone Exchange".
This meant that I was going to devote my life henceforth to getting internet from this place. Armed with a notebook, a pencil, and my cellphone (to keep the time), I planned to stalk the Exchange until tangible progress was made. While the guy was at breakfast I waited in a chair in his office. Upon his return, I queried about exactly when the modem would be purchased and took notes on the steps involved. I told him I'd return the next day. I was so annoyed that I instead returned the same day after lunch (missing the colloquium) to camp out some more at the Exchange. I jotted down the quote, "I have told him, but he has not yet delivered it. [the modem]". The next day the modem had arrived, and on November 2, I had internet. I called my folks on Skype that night.
All things considered, the Exchange didn't really lie to me, but they had strongly suggested that they were giving people connections in the order of the list. Which is not true, obviously. I know someone who has been waiting for like seven months on that list. The process should be more transparent and professional.
Okay this was mostly a tirade; next time we'll discuss my biggest juggling show ever.
I originally learned juggling from a man named Wayne Campbell (no, not that one), who taught an evening juggling class on the premises of the Burlington County College. I was in high school at the time. Pretty much all the others in the class were middle-aged, but I went regularly for about three years. I learned the ropes up to juggling ५ balls, and passing clubs.
Since then, I've been almost continuously part of some juggling club, usually serving the club as president or faculty adviser. At UPenn, where I did my undergrad, I joined the Amorphous Jugglers. My juggling partner Mark and I went to work as juggling clowns at Hershey Park the following summer. When we returned we became copresidents of AJ. At grad school, my classmate Dan and I decided to start a juggling club. We discovered that there was a defunct juggling club in the books named "The Juggling Cult", but started a new one with the less creepy name "Jugglers Enriching Lives Like Yours". We had a delightful time passing clubs on the college green and met some fun people. JELLY later served as a talent pool for the local student circus which was created a few years later. Some JELLY alumni have become professional entertainers.
After grad school I lived in Bonn, Germany for a year. There are very serious technical jugglers in the area. Most don't bother to perform, but just enjoyed working on new patterns on the Hofgarten. I learned an incredible amount of technically interesting stuff there. I also got pretty good at conversational German. I brought German juggling to my next move, and was instated as the faculty adviser of the Purdue Juggling & Unicycling Club. This was a booming club that had lots of talent and did plenty of shows. Although the officers were technically the undergraduates, the alumni grad students really ran the show. PJUC was a great deal of fun and we invented a lot of cool stuff together.
Norman's University of Oklahoma didn't have a juggling club. So I coerced one of the math grad students, Shayna, to help me start the OU Impeccable Juggler's Association. This was an interesting endeavor because I got to teach a community of jugglers to do things "my way". Thus, certain things like ५ ball १-count (Starfish/Bowtie), which are obscure in the greater juggling community, are part of basic training at OUIJA. As part of my juggling recruitment, I joined Norman's Prairie Folk Circus. I made no secret of the fact that I mainly joined to get more people juggling, and that plan worked out rather nicely. It was also a cool performance venue, with lots of parades and carousing with fun folks who were not hippies.
This brings us to India. It is more difficult here than in the U.S. to search for juggling clubs on the internet. Things are done more through word of mouth, it seems. So...there might be jugglers in the area, but I can't tell. And probably I'd want to know some Hindi before I start nosing around the Mumbai Circus, if I ever find it. Anyway I think it is quite natural for a juggling scene to arise here. Most days apart from monsoon season seem like good weather for juggling, and folks hang out outside together much more than in the States. The culture of yoga asanas is not so different from that of juggling patterns. And did you know that the modern "juggling club" was inspired by the heavier "Indian club"? (Yes, I'm using two different meanings of the word "club" throughout this post.)
After Frank left, I started hanging out more with fellow expatriates Gerald and his wife Caitlin. Gerald is a terrific Austrian mathematician and you should totally hire him. Caitlin is a Musician At Large from Canada who spends her workday composing an opera. She's also the only person around who intuitively understands my accent. I referred them to this blog and so they found out I wanted to start a juggling club and, well Caitlin and I started the Banyan Tree Jugglers. I have this odd feeling that I cheated a little bit from a literary standpoint, since the existence of the blog itself has affected this later chapter of the blog. But I digress.
Here is how you can start a juggling club. You simply find someone else who agrees to hang out with you outside for an hour juggling on a regular basis. Next, you tell people you meet that "there is a juggling club" that meets at such-and-such a time. When they express interest, you put them on an e-mail list, and send them reminders of when the club meets. This is also how OUIJA got started. Now I was warned before coming here that gossip spreads very quickly at TIFR, and I figured I could use that to beef up my juggling club. Oh, and I did a little juggling demonstration for some professor's kids. They made a little party out of it and it was good times. More importantly, it got the word out.
As the name suggests, we meet under a huge banyan tree in the housing complex. Take a look.
Right now there are about ५ regulars, mostly math grad students. I'm in a position where I pretend to be a juggling guru. I'm inventing lots of little exercises to ease their way into the three ball cascade. JYoga pedagogy now has "juggling bandhas" ("bandha" is a yoga turn meaning something like "lock"): elbow bandha, plane bandha, over-your-head bandha, hands-down bandha, .... I'm trying to learn the Hindi for these. I am certainly training them for eventual JYoga as well, something I haven't done much of at the other clubs, since it hadn't been invented yet. Of course we're also doing partner juggling, tricks, and all that.
Caitlin and Vaibhav
Anand and Shiv
Shiv has earned "the handshake" (when you get to २० catches with ३ balls). The others will follow suit in time. But we're all enjoying hanging out outside by the big tree. As folks acquire more equipment, more will be able to join.
Hey! This Sunday I'm doing "Juggler's Extravaganza" for the "Homi Bhabha Day" celebration. Stay tuned.
"Beyond Bombay Harbor, across the blue waters, lies the green Isle of Elephanta. A short walk uphill takes you to the cave temples, cut out of solid rock by the hand of man. Inside the main cave may be seen some of the finest sculptures of Indian art carved about 1300 years ago."--from a comic book sold there.
My old officemate Frank and I had some fun times here in Mumbai, checking out the local scenes, strolling along the ocean, and pontificating as academics are wont to do. You've probably seen him in a video or two on this blog. (Not to be confused with the Observer from Fringe.) For his last weekend here we visited the Island of Shiva, also known as Elephanta. It's a favorite getaway spot for him. So, we made a day of it.
To get to the island, you go to the Gateway of India, the tourist trap area I was photographed in before. Some guy comes up to you from the crowd and hawks a ticket. You don't blow him off like most of the annoying people, but go ahead and buy it. You listen for the gate number, and then proceed over to your boat. There are lots of boats that regularly make the trip to Elephanta; ours was the "M.L. Sahil", a nice big boat with two decks.
You might pay a little extra to sit at the top, away from the engine. After ९० minutes or so of boating through the harbor, you disembark on the island with the other tourists. Your goal is to get to the top of a hill where all the old stuff is, past a gauntlet of enthusiastic salesmen. Like most of their ilk, they assume that if you look at something, you want to buy it. And they call you their friend. More interestingly, this is the only place in the area where you can see monkeys. Lots of monkeys. More about them in a moment. At the top of the hill, you pay १० rupees if you are Indian, and २५० rupees if you are not. Just because. Then you can wander around and see some holy caves, other tourists, and lots of monkeys.
The first monkeys I saw were artfully stealing some food from the free-range dogs who also hang out there. Evidently the monkeys and dogs are in an eternal conflict that the monkeys always win. On the other hand they both seem to live harmoniously with the tourists, who give them lots of food and drink. The monkeys are pretty adept; we saw one monkey twist the top off of a soda bottle so that it could spill the soda out and drink it from the ground. I was a little timid around them, and wasn't carrying any groceries. (Note: I intended to be delighted if they steal my groceries, but never promised to make that happen. I don't want to get, you know, scratched or anything.)
There aren't any elephants on Elephanta; the island was so named by Portugese who were impressed by a stone elephant that was once there, and is now in a museum. What the island is really known for is the caves. They are completely carved out of the solid rock mountain, so long ago that noone remembers who originally built them. The main one has several large carvings of Shiva and friends depicted in various mythological episodes.
Shiva is another important Hindu god. Actually Ganesh, the subject of my last entry, is the son of Shiva and/or his wife Parvati. Shiva is the ultimate dancer and yogi, in case you are into either of those things.
He mostly meditates, but at the end of this phase of Hindu cosmology, he will do a dance as the world dissolves, preparing for its recreation. So yeah, he's a big deal.
There are also holy shrines in the caves, defended by huge implacable stone warriors.
It is also guarded by smaller flesh and blood security guards, who get upset if you go into the shrine wearing shoes. (It wasn't me, frankly...) Sadly much of the ancient carvings and statues were destroyed by Portugese with guns, so I didn't get to see many of the faces and limbs of the figures.
We spent some time outside looking at the monkeys and getting a sunburn. Folks were very friendly; many of them asked us where we were from. Unfortunately I had been accustomed to blowing off strangers on the street and wasn't so friendly myself. (Remember we were on an island with other vacationers, so there wasn't any danger.) When we did start socializing, we were suddenly surrounded by kids and grownups who wanted to get their pictures taken with us. Lots of pictures, with all different permutations of people. I wasn't even performing or anything. We shook lots of hands and fascinated lots of vacationers. Did I mention there weren't many obvious foreigners on the Isle? I think next time I should bring some juggling balls.
Speaking of, next time: The Banyan Tree Jugglers!
Hey readers, check out the opposite blog of DAI: an Indian mathematician from TIFR moving to Purdue, where I used to live...
Ganesha is an important Hindu deity. He is the patron of the arts and sciences, and the removal of obstacles. (Warning: He sometimes puts the obstacles there himself...) You would recognize him because he has an elephant's head. There is an idol of him in the Quik-E-Mart, and a sticker of him on my front door. Several taxis I've been in had little Ganeshas by the windshield. Ganesha is particularly beloved here in Mumbai, where his birthday is celebrated for ten days. A multitude of Ganesha idols are constructed all over the city. Larger ones are set up in little tent areas where you can come in, pray to him, and make donations.
At the end of the holiday, the statues are plunged into the sea, whereupon it is said that his spirit leaves the statues, to return the following year. The Immersion is a huge event, and this year my officemate Frank and I went to Chowpatty Beach to check it out. Now we had been warned that this scene is ridiculously crowded, and indeed taxi drivers refused to take us there. So, we took a taxi to the Churchgate Train Station area, and walked about a mile and a half along the shore. Huge parades of folks were coming and going.
These are the seaside apartments. Check out the palm trees.
Off to watch the Immersion.
Large trucks housing Ganesha statues often had a crowd of young men chilling on the top of the vehicle, completely unafraid of falling off. They zoomed by too quickly for me to take a picture. By the way, I have yet to be in a vehicle with a functional seatbelt.
I should mention that on that day (Sept. 11th), we were still in monsoon season. Ganesha's birthday was no exception, and most of the time it was pouring down rain as. Nonetheless, when we go to the parade it was mostly dry, and the beach was full of excited people.
Every minute or so a family ran by escorting a little wagon with a little statue to the sea, shouting "Ganapati Bappa Moraya!".
Here is a video of a family about to send off their Ganesha:
But the main event was a big parade with a preponderance of large statues. Each statue seemed to have some kind of theme, and they were usually sponsored by some organization. Here are two videos I took:
Malabarista Ganesha was my favorite.
This went on all day, and had begun a few days before, even. At some point it started pouring down rain. Thousands of umbrellas opened up and it seemed like the entire crowd was "covered". A couple guys sidled next to me and shared my umbrella.
We walked back to the Churchgate area and took a taxi. The streets were filled with music and people dancing in front of more Ganesha statues, even in the rain. It was fun!
Two summers ago, I regularly juggled in the colloquium room of the Physical Sciences building at the University of Oklahoma. It was an air-conditioned room with high ceilings, so I had been using it as my own personal juggling gym, when it was empty. I had a key. One day I was in the middle of an intensive juggling workout, trying to achieve the elusive ७-ball cascade. Unfortunately, even though I had warmed up, I got a sharp little pain in my chest. Right then I decided it was time to start doing yoga, to take better care of my body.
There was a little Ashtanga yoga studio which I had often passed on Campus Corner on my way to a restaurant. The next evening, and pretty much every day for the next few months, I attended one of the classes there. I learned lots of delightful poses, like a baby finding his feet for the first time. Yogaing also added to the company I could enjoy at the nearby Earth Cafe. Eventually, I settled into 6:30am morning classes which were held freestyle; students ran their own program with the advice of the instructor, Jennifer. It was named after the Indian city Mysore, which evidently has yoga classes in this style. I got to know the Mysore crowd pretty well.
Come winter, Jennifer (and Mysore buddy Stacy) had left the States for a few weeks, to tour India and some other Asian countries. Using the internet, Jennifer boasted to me that she was learning to juggle there. This made me remembering all the fun juggling I used to do, and so I started to develop "JYoga". This portmanteau, coined by juggling aficionado K. Joy McKee, refers to the practice of yoga asanas which incorporate juggling. Here are some sample pictures and a sideways video of that, from the States:
Classic JYoga
AcroJYoga
I developed JYoga occasionally during Mysore classes, and eventually taught a workshop and added it to some public shows. It's a lot of fun, obviously, and I think it's a better direction to go with my solo juggling program than just adding more objects. Moreover it's a memento, to never forget my time in Norman.
Anyway I got seriously into yoga in Oklahoma. Of course, my Ashtanga friends were excited for me to go to India, and it was imperative that I continue taking yoga lessons, and that I tell them all about it on this blog. So here we are.
As DAI readers know, I had a false start with a "class" here at TIFR. I didn't go back to that. Instead I asked around, assuming that there had to be some yoga class in Mumbai for me. I was directed to Devika, a grad student whom I met earlier. I caught her during lunch at the canteen, and she told me right away that I should start going the next morning. You see, the next three months of yoga classes started the following morning, and so I needed to catch the 6:30 bus to go to the 7:00 class with her.
I went downtown that evening with my officemate Frank, to get some dinner and an alarm clock. (In the previous post I show a video I took during the taxiride back.)
The yoga class is part of the "Health Club" at a high-rise building called the "Maker Building". Many wealthy people live there. I've been there three times so far. After the bus we walk several blocks, past the "World Trade Center in Mumbai". Then we walk past some guards, into a pleasant room facing a grassy playground. There is a large system of ropes tied to iron rings on the right wall, a cabinet full of blankets and blocks, folding chairs, and a basket of straps.
This turned out darker that I wanted.
Any problem you face can be solved with props.
We show up about ten minutes before the rest of the class, who are mostly folks in their mid-40's and yes it's coeds.
Class starts with this mantra: That's right, to the King of All Nagas; we don't mess around.
The instructor's a big athletic guy who clearly loves his work. He goes into detail about the direction in which our flesh should be moving, and what our bones are doing. He chides us individually if we're not yogaing right, maybe slaps our limbs sometimes or taps them with his toe to show us the way. He has a pet name for me: "Baba" (pronounced like "Bubba"). He'll say for instance, "What are you doing Baba? You should be locking your knees no matter what."
The course is challenge, since I'm not used to keeping my legs so straight, and they hold their daily headstands for several minutes, sometimes with tortuous leg motions. They have an elaborate blanket origami which I don't comprehend, and tie themselves up with straps in particular ways. Today we were to lie backwards on an aluminum folding chair with blankets on the seat, put our legs through to touch the walls with our toes, and slide our arms through the folding chair leg parts in some fashion. That's Iyengar-style.
But it's fun. No matter where I sit, the other students give me tips when I mess up. They speak to each other sometimes in English and sometimes in local dialects which are not Hindi.
(Patience...it is not yet time to show them JYoga.)
That's Intention #7... What would you like to see next?
Well folks I've been here for about a month; let's check on my intentions from the first post:
1. I will never get sick of Indian food.
Well, I am getting sick of the canteen food. It's much the same each time, and I do find myself craving pasta and pizza and stuff like that. Sorry!
2. I will never get (seriously) sick, period.
This is the good news; my digestion seems to have adapted to the spiciness and the oils. I haven't gotten seriously ill. This may be because I built up my immunity by eating out at restaurants often before this. It may be because I take these grapeseed extract pills every day. It may be because I had the basic vaccines before I came. It may be because I was very ill as a child and so am immune to almost everything now. It may be that TIFR is perfectly clean and healthy. Who knows?
3a. I will learn the Hindi alphabet, and some Hindi.
This is coming along slower than I'd like. You may remember that earlier I might have taken some classes. Well, Dipendra later decided that the writing classes for the locals weren't appropriate for me. By the way, although Hindi is an "official language" of India, it's not a language that's particularly embraced by the state of Maharashtra, where I live. So I'm working on the alphabet, but this will take some time. Sorry!
3b. In this regard, I will limit the time that I hang out with expatriates.
I'm not doing so well with this one either. You know, they put us in offices together, and they're very friendly and in the same boat. Interestingly, the people who "look like me" here all speak German. One is Austrian, another German-born but working in England, another German-born but working in France, another German. They all appreciate the shirt from Berlin with the walk signal icons that my friend Jed bought me... Anyway I have made friends with some Indians. Mainly the math ones, since folks in different areas here tend not to mix. Let's say 50/50 for this one. By the way, here is a little video I took from a taxi, while hanging out with my officemate Frank. (The talking in the background is not narration; ignore it.)
4. I will find a local juggling group, if there is one, and try to get something going if there isn't.
Okay so when Volker and his son were here, at some point I volunteered to give the kids a juggling show. Well, that had to be arranged, and there was moving involved, and so my promise of an exhibition has been delayed. But it will happen at some point. After that, the word will get out, et cetera. It's been too rainy to do anything outside. Sorry!
5. I will see about being an extra in a Bollywood movie.
This hasn't happened. Sorry! On a related note, I figured out how my TV works. I have about १५० working channels. It's fun, in the mornings I can watch the "Little Krishna" cartoon, and there is news and movies. I watched a particularly ridiculous movie called "Robot", which featured a robot falling in love with his creator's wife. Lots of dance numbers and special effects. The robot was shockingly violent towards the police, etc. which were chasing him. Even though there weren't subtitles, it wasn't hard to follow, though, because there was enough English thrown in. I mainly stick to the six or seven music channels though. This morning Ludacris had a rap-battle with Bollywood star Akshay Kumar. I'm not sure who won. Also, Snoop Dog does the theme song to absurd action comedy series "Singh is King".
Okay, perhaps I'm coming down with Fregoli syndrome, but the same Bollywood actress seems to be doing as much dancing, singing, romancing, and shampoo-using as all other women combined. Can DAI readers guess who I'm talking about? I mean, she's sure talented and all, but it's weird. Anyway it looks like she's having a fun life.
6. I will be delighted if a monkey steals my groceries.
No monkeys yet, so N/A. There are lots of dogs and cats, and many crows, pigeons, and lizards around my apartment. I found a lizard one day in my bathroom, and it scampered quickly behind the water heater. It stayed there for several days; occasionally it would venture out when I wasn't around. I tried taking some pictures but it was too quick. I did get a video though:
7. I will take some yoga classes.
Yes! This will be the next post.
8. I will get a lot of math done.
This is happening, alright. Check.
9. Things to do: camel ride on Chowpathy beach; eat Indian ice cream; check out Elephanta and Ellora; visit Bombay University the main building, an architectural dazzle etc etc.
Sorry! I haven't done any of this yet. When I get a cellphone I plan to call up Ravi's friends and perhaps some of this will happen. Anyway I have all year. For now, here is me in front of the "Gateway to India", which is where you get the boat to Elephanta.
What adventures I'm having in India! Sorry I'm not updating so often anymore--I've been occupied with math projects, now that my Pune interview is over. I've been getting into a routine: the sun wakes me up in my apartment, I try to snap a photo of the lizard (more on that later), I watch some Indian television, I go to the canteen for cereal with boiling hot milk, I go to the library to do math, I go to the canteen for rice and curried vegetables, then more math, then I go to the canteen for chai and cakes, more math, maybe a seminar, I go to the canteen for chapatis, rice, and dahl, then I cross the street and go back to my apartment for the night. See? You haven't missed much.
Except you may want to about what it's like to randomly wander around Mumbai. Alright, well the other day I ran out of soap. There's one store that's in the TIFR Housing Complex, but doesn't have much. I had previously purchased laundry detergent and some weird cookies from there. So, I needed to get on a bus and go "downtown", walk into the right store, grab what I needed and then split. How hard could this be?
What I do to go "downtown" is take the free TIFR bus, and get out when anyone else does. This seems to always be the Victoria train station. So I've gone there a couple times and have walked around a bit to familiarize myself with the area. Which is evidently called "Churchgate". I had earlier eaten at a nice restaurant (Shivana) I found in this way. This time I wanted to pick up several things, so I had eaten beforehand to prepare myself for a lengthy quest.
So here's what was like, at first. There seem to always be lots of people hanging out on the sidewalks in groups. This makes sense, since the weather is very nice when it's not raining, and perhaps employment is scarce. As I walked along the sidewalks, I passed by lots of little stands with folks selling shoes, watches, food, kids' stuff, and cigarettes, but nothing I was really interested in. I had heard stories of tourists being overwhelmed by beggars, swindlers, and Artful Dodgers, but noone really paid me any mind. Of course, I've lived in cities for much of my life and I probably don't look like a target. And, you know, they are probably used to foreigners in Colaba. Still, most of the time I didn't see anyone who looked like me on the streets, and the ones I did see were clearly not from the States.
So I didn't buy anything from the stands; I was looking for stores I could walk into and put things into a basket. Well, my first couple of efforts put me into (guarded) stores which sold nothing but saris. Later I found a nice looking pharmacy which seemed to have what I wanted. I saw a box of tissues locked in a cabinet, so I told a woman behind the counter that I wanted to buy it. She said I had to ask someone else to unlock it. It was not clear who that was. But someone eventually unlocked it and I had to purchase it right then. I saw some soap in the display under the counter, and I told the woman I wanted to buy it. She said, you should try this special soap-free cleaning bar. I said I wanted some soap. Perhaps I should mention here that the locals have trouble with my english. Dearest Diary, I hope you will forgive me when I admit that I purchased this special cleaning bar because of this woman's stubbornness. It was about ३०० rupees. She went on about how great soap-free products are and I signed her form to get advertisements about more expensive merchandise. Anyway I got my "soap".
I wandered around some more, bought a notebook from another cabinet, and found a yoga mat at an exercise store. The mat had a pricetag of ४५० rupees, but when I asked for it, the guy finally actually gave it to me for ३५० rupees. Am I supposed to haggle, even when there is a pricetag?...
After this, I wasn't sure exactly where the train station was. The streets aren't in a nice grid like in, say, Philadelphia. Now I could have asked someone for directions at this point, but I thought I'd be adventurous and try to figure it out myself. So I wandered around with a vague idea of where north was, and a vague idea that the station was to the north. Eventually I was truly in the classic "marketplace" scene or bazaar which one associates with India and maybe some middleeastern countries. More shoes, watches, food, kids' stuff, and cigarettes. There was a long street full of paper stores, but they didn't seem to sell notebooks...
I constantly had to decide whether I would walk on the sidewalks, which were very crowded, or on the street. The streets were really unpleasant due to the parade of cars which honked their way through the mass of people. Probably there's some social class thing going on there. But the sidewalks had their troubles: at one point I was somehow in an alley packed tightly with delivery trucks, and stuck singlefile in a line of deliverymen carrying heavy loads on their heads. The path I was stuck on had an increasing amount of bad water which I had to sidestep while moving along. For a little while I followed a poor old soul carrying a huge wagon behind him, until he got in someone's way and got yelled at.
At any rate I was impressed at how endless the Colaba Market is, and totally lost. At some point I asked some folks where Victoria Station "VT" was, and they pointed me in the right direction. I later found out I was significantly northwest of VT. It was tough getting there; there were several large streets I did not want to cross, even though other people were weaving through the traffic full of faith. Not many walk signals. I discovered a "subway" area where pedestrians can walk underground; this was extremely helpful, and I made my way to the station.
From there, I took the red bus home, where I discovered I had lost my key.
This is my entry about my trip to IISER Pune (http://www.iiserpune.ac.in/). It continues from when I got off the train from Mumbai.
I wasn't sure where to find the driver who would take me to Pune, but I took my luggage and hurried along with the other passengers wherever they were going. Very quickly a man approached me and showed me my name on a piece of paper. He led to me the car and we were off. As we were on the road, I remarked that I must have been easy to find. He said nothing, so we quietly made our way to the Guest House. The smog was quite strong, even from inside the car with the windows up. Blech. It didn't seem to bother the dozens of motorcyclists we passed by without as much as a handkerchief on their faces. Nor did it bother passengers sitting casually on the rear wheels of those motorcycles, usually at right angles to the driver, and certainly without seatbelts. At one point we turned and went up a shaky dirt road. We went through another guarded gate and I was at the Guest House.
The Guest House was quite new and modern. Certainly moreso than my apartment in Mumbai. There was an overzealous waitstaff who prepared three meals a day, and personally came to our rooms inviting us to each meal... Over dinner I met the wife of one of the new statistics professors at IISER, who is studying English literature. She was able to understand my accent more than anyone else, so we chatted. I worked a little on my talk, and settled down for the night. Unfortunately I was kept up by a couple evasive mosquitos; talk of malaria has me paranoid of the little creeps. The next morning I woke up as usual with the sun (still no alarm clock), had their breakfast, and went with some other folks to the Institute.
The Institute was renting another modern building. It was more like a corporation building; the offices had large glass windows, presumably so that they can watch each other work. The internet was heavily censored, for example I could not visit any social networking sites, or comic sites to kill time. They are planning to move out.
Soon enough, I found the director Shashi and my friend Raghuram from Oklahoma, who will later be the math director. We chatted a little bit, for instance about an earlier policy to make all undergraduate students at IISER write genuine research papers. Then I sat in the visitor room while members of the department were encouraged to come in to meet me. I met another number theorist, an analyst in PDEs who was a friend of Acushla's, a topologist, a mathematical biologist, and a cryptographer. It's a young department, only a few years old, and with nascent faculty. I also met Sujatha, an older established mathematician who acts as their mentor, and drops by occasionally to set them straight. She had just arrived in Pune that morning; my visit was to coincide with hers.
Later we went to the newer campus for lunch. It's being built right now; here is a picture of the math building under construction:
If we build it, they will come.
I met some more folks then, including the three brave new students who were spearheading the PhD program, another director, and Sreekar. Sreekar is notable historically, because he was one of an audience of six for the first math seminar I'd ever been invited to give, back in 2004 in Michigan. I also met Avinash Khare, whose son Apoorva I knew from grad school. In fact Avinash was also staying at the Guest House, in the same suite no less. It was a fun lunch, it seemed like the whole department came out. (Not just for me; I think it was to bring in the new semester and welcome Sujatha...)
Afterwards I gave my talk, on my "Oklahoma project". I had rehearsed it enough, and there were several questions, so it was fun. I then killed some time using the boring version of the internet. Afterwards I talked to Shashi for a bit. They were interested! The main obstacle, it seems, is pushing the paperwork through the government, since I'm a foreigner. I suggested a five-year-plan which made sense to him as well. So, things are on track. By the way, there weren't any formal interview questions during the whole process, even though I had some formal interview answers in mind.
Later I went back to the Guest House and had dinner and later breakfast with some IISER folks, as it turns out. Here are pictures of us having breakfast.
Aren't math people fun?
A Spanish mathematician wanted to take my photo too.
To me left is the English literature student, and the other woman is Sujatha. Sujatha is sitting between her grad student Somatha and Avinash.
The next morning I got a ride back from the same driver as before. We didn't speak, but he gave me a "good morning" nod, and I gave him a "goodbye" nod when he dropped me off at the station.
