I am alive and well at an internet cafe in Rishikesh (North India). In time, I plan to carefully chronicle my adventures on this blog with pictures and videos and whatnot. But for now, there are two other bloggers already telling you what's up. So if you can't wait, check out Jennifer and Courtney's blogs. Don't worry; I will start from the beginning when it's my turn.
So normally, part of the academic experience is continually moving and leaving former lives behind. Which can be a little sad. In my years in Norman, Oklahoma, I put a lot of energy into yogaing with the group I found there. But alas my stay was only destined to be for three years. When I discovered that I was moving to India, a very far place, that was actually good news for a couple of them, because they regularly visit India. And they're coming on Friday! So I think a post to introduce Team Ashtanga Oklahoma (TAO) is in order.
Jennifer is a super-friendly yoga instructor, under whom I studied the most at the studio. We both enjoy early morning yoga ("Mysore") and ordering breakfast (called "Ujjayi Breakfast"), so we became great friends. She runs classes called "Ashtanga Playground" and "Circus Mysore". She let me take over the former once to teach a JYoga class. Later she visited my Quaker group and led a fantastic yoga workshop, aimed towards elder folks. Also Jennifer can be a determined blogger; in November alone she blogged more than I ever have. Fun all around.
Stacy is Jennifer's usual globe-trotting partner, and another instructor at the studio. She was my only classmate for many of the Mysore classes, and my main partner in Acroyoga. We even performed in a couple shows together (which makes her Kevin Bacon number 4 or less). She also owns a unicycle. If you're someone (my mom) who's worried about my medical health when touring India, you'll be relieved to know that she is a nurse by profession. Full of boundless energy, perhaps the most outgoing of the TAO, she's sure to land us into memorable predicaments.
Courtney has seen much of the world. A Peace Corps alum, she worked for two years in Gambia, Africa. She's also been to Costa Rica and is an avid climber. At home Courtney is a mainstay of Norman's art scene, serving up poetry, dance, and, you know, art. She currently holds a TAO record by having three blogs. I only really met her once at a Wednesday Dinner for about ten seconds, but she's as welcome to visit as any loyal DAI fan!
Steven is an American Indian, or at least he's an American who's trying out "being Indian" for a while. Born in the mountains of Pennsylvania, raised in the forests of New Jersey, he likes being a mathematician because you get to meditate for a living. Recently India has been creating many attractive jobs in mathematics, while the U.S. has been destroying such. Last year Steven's friend Raghuram invited him to a math institute in Pune to be a professor and add momentum to their new Ph.D. program. There's some bureaucracy for that, so meanwhile he's chilling at the Tata Institute, where his job is basically to be collegial. It's a neat place, but lately he's been itching for a vacation "within the vacation", so TAO is arriving at a great time.
So that's the TAO roundup. We plan to explore Mumbai, Delhi, the Taj Mahal and Rishikesh. Jennifer and Stacy are experts already at traveling in India. We look forward to touring and taking pictures and blogging and (j)yogaing. And being stared at a lot.
Right now it's too cold in most of the States to juggle outdoors, but here in Mumbai it's the perfect weather. So, we can practice juggling all year long with no interruption, except for the monsoon season. How far have we come? Well here's me teaching Shiv to pass clubs:
Several of you have learned to pass in the same way; in fact with the exact same clubs. So you know he's almost there. (I've done this training like a hundred times.) It's more of a challenge here because
a) we don't know anywhere in India to buy clubs, and b) these guys don't get to see anyone passing clubs in person. It really is harder to learn if you haven't seen anyone do it. But that will soon change.
My adviser gave me a secret formula to study for my thesis. We'll call it "The Stabilization". The Stabilization outlines how to calm down a hysterical group through an intervention process with smaller, closely related groups. The process was written out in an unpublished preprint of his that I had. Actually the story of The Stabilization is an important ongoing story in my career; we may return to it on another occasion.
A couple years ago in Oklahoma, I was browsing through a new library book and saw The Stabilization. Reading more carefully, I learned that my adviser had also shared it with arithmetic geometer Sophie Morel, who used its methods to calm down some of her own mathematics. Last week she spoke at an international colloquium here at TIFR. Of course, I made a beeline for her during lunch when she was relaxing with Gerald. I immediately chatted her up about The Stabilization because, you know, there are only three of us in the world who have worked with it (I think...).
We started hanging out, and when she told me she planned to go to a gent's barbershop, I knew it could be a delicious DAI post. Also, I needed a haircut myself, to look sharp when the Flying Yogini Sisters arrive! We had two options: either a place called "Vijay's Barbershop" which I had patronized before, or Arnab's suggestion, a store called "Hair Cool" across from Churchgate. Once there, we were to ask around if we couldn't find it immediately, which sounds pretty straightforward when you're at a colloquium lunch trying to impress your new friend.
I raced back to my apartment, unwrapped my new "Flip Video", and started entertaining Sophie around Colaba. We started by taking a local bus, and walked around the Causeway. In fact she had already learned the Hindi alphabet, and some basic expressions. Unfortunately, Vijay's was closed, and we couldn't find Hair Cool. Most of the people around were stressful travelers hurrying to their gate, who weren't necessarily so familiar with the area. So, I decided to ask the outdoor merchant guys (OMGs). Or more accurately, I got their attention and pretended my fingers were scissors cutting my hair. Two OMGs pointed us in a certain direction. But as we walked along we noticed that there weren't any store fronts in that direction. Soon we found that the second OMG had followed us and pointed out that a third OMG was standing around giving haircuts.
Dear Diary, I'm sorry to report that I initially scared of getting my hair cut by someone without, you know, a store. But Sophie was brave, and resolved to get her hair cut on the spot. I filmed it, of course, and then went ahead and got mine cut as well. Here is our Trimming Montage: (Sorry about that first minute; there was a sticker on the lens...) It was only ३० Rupees a head. Afterwards she shopped for movies starring Bollywood crush Shahrukh Khan, and for Hindi Potter books. We finished by sharing a pizza at Moshe's while talking about math. It was fun!
Caution: I don't believe that women would normally get their hair cut at a gentleman's haircuttery in India. Sophie has a mischievous streak in which she propagates the illusion that she is male. (Part of that was getting her hair cut short.) In this way, she does not command the extra attention which can annoy more traditional western women wandering around alone in India.
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.
