Interpreted,Not Compiled.

Prelude - Hardy's 'A Mathematician's Apology'. A one-of-its-kind essay which gives a sneak peek into the mind of a mathematician. Excerpts from the book: "The function of a mathematician is to do something, to prove new theorems, to add to mathematics, and not to talk about what he or other mathematicians have done. .......there is no scorn more profound, or on the whole more justifiable, than that of the men who make for the men who explain. Exposition, criticism, appreciation, is work for second-rate minds.. " "Good work is no done by ‘humble’ men. It is one of the first duties of a professor, for example, in any subject, to exaggerate a little both the importance of his subject and his own importance in it." Mathematicians are a rare breed...an extremely gifted hashset of specimens endowed with an insatiable ego...They contribute more Mathematics, prove conjectures and add more theorems , not because they want them to be practically useful to ...

Everybody loves Pillaiyar ...I love him too...for many reasons...He is not-so-good looking, he is huge, he does not admonish you even if you scathe him, he grants wishes, big and small, immediate and mediate, (He is the God of Wishes!!!)and he is ubiquitous..every other street in an Indian city (and every apartment) is bound to have atleast one small Ganesha temple or atleast a perch, where he is blissfully poised... I frequent a neigboring " Pillayar kovil " everyday, its a small temple neatly architected, and beckons me with its mystic silence..After a hectic day's running around with bizarre intellections, I try to spend about ten minutes in this temple to oraganize the random thoughts... Maybe if this recollection is done in the presence of the Elephant God, He would erroneously assume that I am dreaming about Him and only Him, grant a few more wishes I put forth to Him.... Maybe not... He has a brain as big as His head to see through my chants....Well, am I the wis...

Are you one of those multitudes of people who go crazy about the "brand" when you pick a T- shirt or a travel bag? Do you go for branded Australian apples from XXXX's Fresh or do you settle in for the less privileged but equally nutritious ones on the platforms of Madiwala market? Do you judge a book by the book-keeper's looks and diction? Do you buy a "Marks and Spencer" plain T shirt for a couple of grands with no negotiation, just return the wistful smile of the well-dressed hosts of M&S and yet argue at the top of your lungs for a couple of tens for the same kind but less dear T shirt with an under privileged platform-wala at Commercial Street? If you answer in the affirmative for any of these, then tell me why.. One reason springing up at the top of my mind is "Quality Assurance" - the phrase synonymous with brand. I'd anyday pick a Titan watch, spend a little more bucks and get the warranty and assurance of quality than one of ...

I'd always held the opinion that for everyday contentment, one needs to work on something that one enjoys doing most..so that it dosen't seem like "work". "Pursue your passion, and get paid for it"...I jabbered in school. "Convert your passion to profession", I blabbered in college. Let me try to define profession and passion here. There are a lot of web-definitions for a "professional" - Here are a few interesting ones: 1. The Devil's Advocate definition: A professional is one who is supposed to know everything about something and nothing about the remaining. 2. The Wiki definition: A professional is a worker required to possess a large body of knowledge about something derived from extensive formal academic study. 3. The one I like most: One that is carried out for money, especially as a livelihood. I'm sure all of we, professionals would fit into one or more of the above definitions to justify our "professional ethics...

How many times have you heard yourself say this - "Life sucks!!! Why is all this happening only to me?? God is unfair..Or does He exist after all??"Any of these or their variations means you are going through a bad patch or you are having one of those "dog days". I've has numerous such dog days...Herez one such typical day...I am fast asleep...Its 7.30 AM in the morning..The alarm buzzes..I promptly switch it off anf go back to sleep counting on my body clock to wake me up exactly ten minutes later (I thought I'd programmed my body clock to do that...wake me up ten minutes after that inital realworld alarm .Wait..did I say I programmed??Then you know what to expect)... So as the story goes....I get up half an hour after the inital alarm...thanks to my friend's alarm..I switch on the geyser...And off goes the power.....I go to the dark bathroom...knock the bucket down..producing some noisy vibrations that ensue a few more noisier vibrations from my room-m...

Here's some plain speaking ...I stay at Bangalore and yet I've never been any good with movies or with catching up with the latest releases. I can never be dedicated to any task for more than a few minutes, and being glued to the silver screen for two-and-a-half or three hours is not, in many cases, an exception. I do have quite a few English favorites though (This is affectionately called the UK effect by some of my team-mates). Given a choice, I would prefer the Tamil oldies to the latest Hindi or the regional masalas . And speaking of Tamil oldies, the one film that pops up in my mind is this evergreen classic Thillana Mohanambal .. It is truly a classic..not only because it is set in the early to mid nineteenth century or because it is of Eastman colour..but also because generations after generations, people (children and adults alike) have found pleasure in every scene of the movie..I've watched the movie a zillion times before and I can play the entire movie in my ...

"Do you sing? Do you dance? Do you play any musical instruments? Do you know anything that is Carnatic at all??? " Well, these are questions one is likely to be asked at certain specific kinds of interviews :). And my answers to some of them would be typically "I do sing, but at rather restricted places, I do dance but with rather restricted shaking of restricted body parts".. The naked truth is that I'm not Carnatic enough...save for a few forced violin classes in early childhood. It was the year 1992 or 1993 (Oh No, not another nostalgic one..I can hear you whine..but muster up patience and read on..). My grandfather brought home a violin from his shopping. Music was supposed to be running in my mother's family genes. Well, only later did people realise that I had inherited the paternal gene for music, but it was too late then. At first sight, the violin looked sexy ;) with its deep curves and dark complexion. (Trust me, I was only ten then..)The bow, whic...