Hmm..err...Well...Happy birthday!

I don't get these realizations too often, in fact, I get them so infrequently that I never know what to do with them when I do. In a state of almost complete boredom, my options at my local guardians' place were either watching Akhtar massacre the Indian bowling, reading about how elements in a normed algebra lying in the open unit disc are invertible, or just surfing the web. I think I chose to do what most people I know would have chosen to do. Now it is almost a compulsive thing that whenever I'm wasting time on the internet, I feel obligated to visit my blog, not in the least because I feel I'm one of five people on the planet who do so! (If you want to know who the others are, read the comments to any of the previous posts.) The situation wasn't quite so bad when I started out blogging. Every day my blog would receive around ten to fifteen comments. Some were people promoting their own blogs, others were selling lingerie for women, some were even selling women with little lingerie and some were patrons of things even more breathtaking. In between admiring their comments full of innuendoes and feeling ashamed at having such comments on my blog, I used to wonder how people engaged in such esoteric and no doubt pleasurable pursuits found time, or the inclination, to read through the fairly boring text that they most probably didn't even connect with!

Then courtesy a "net-savvy" friend, and there could be many who I owe my thanks to, I learnt of two interesting features the blog-hosts offered. One was that as the "owner" of this blog, I had the right to delete messages I didn't want on my blog. An even more potent tool was that I could turn on "word verification", something that prevents the automated posting of messages and comments. I was happy to be able to rid myself of those not-exactly-offensive messages, but in its aftermath, I realized how unpopular my blog actually was!

Alongside blogging I was also pursuing formal education. I'd finished my bachelors and I didn't quite think myself workplace worthy. Besides, my blog still fetched a pagerank of 0 on the google tools. I decided that I needed to devote time to it and increase its popularity. So I started networking with some popular bloggers I had the privilege of sharing the table with in the St. Stephens' mess. But illiteracy had a way of showing through the best faked facades, and my troubles started when people added me to their "blogroll" and asked me to do the same. While I nodded nonchalantly, I was thinking in my head all the time, " I know what a blog is, but what the hell is a blogroll?"

Wikipedia came to my rescue. "A blogroll," it said ," is a collection of links to other weblogs. When present, blogrolls are often found on the front page sidebar of most weblogs." That was a good start. If I could just confirm if a weblog was the same as a blog, I was almost done.

Finding out that a weblog was the same as a blog was only half the battle. I still needed to figure out how to add people to my blogroll. "It's easy, " said one of my friends, "just edit the html code." So I tried editing the html code. "!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" it said. But where was the blogroll? I scrolled down further. There was "description { margin:0 5px 5px; padding:0 20px20px; border:1px solid #222; border-width:0 1px 1px; font:78%/1.4em "TrebuchetMS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.2em; color:#777; }. Further down there was still more Greek and still no blogroll. I was at the point of giving up when a friend, now in Norway, came to the rescue.

I was now ready to make it big in the blogworld. I had my own blog with a template designed by Douglas Bowman, and a blogroll created by Gautam Chandna and in the master stroke of seeking Chandna's help, I had even found my first regular reader! As luck would have it and as most billionaires would tell you as part of their life stories, I was in the right place at the right time. Chandna was looking for content to put on his website and he began borrowing from this blog! Independent of the masses who read posts on his website, the traffic on my site increased from a measly one to a whopping five! So much for multiplying fivefold in less than a year.

So this is approximately my first birthday in the blogworld. I'm never good with dates, but the archives link on the blog tells me that my first ever word in the blogworld was said in January 2005! That is almost when I think I signed up on blogspot.

So here am I wishing myself a very happy birthday. And now back to Banach Algebras.

Forward the Foundation

There is a certain peculiarity in the way the foundation functions. The peculiarity is such that to an outsider, it may come across as paranoia of sorts, and taken to an extreme, it may even seem disorganization. But this peculiarity is not an expression of lackadaisical indifference or of organizational incompetence. It is a reflection of the intrinsic peculiarities of the individuals who comprise this organization.

There was this time when I suspected that I owed the foundation a certain installment of payment. I was unsure of when this payment was due, and so when I came home, I sent them an email asking. That email was responded to when the vacation (the duration of which, incidentally, was decided by them) was over and I was back at work. A few months later when the question of the payment arose, I was left explaining that since I hadn't received a timely response from them, I was not in a position to make the payment upfront. The best I could promise was that I would pay as soon as it was possible for me to do so. Though the argument bought me time, it also helped me realize how organizations such as this try to exonerate their employees of incompetence by moulding situations to seem that people employed with them can do no wrong.

A recent illustration of the peculiar way in which they function was provided when they organized an event in which many visitors from abroad were invited. As graduate students, we were expected to receive these people at the airports. Normally, anyone with an IQ of around 50 can read one's name of a placard and know that they have a reception party waiting for them. Here we had in hand some extremely intelligent people who had received distinction in their chosen fields of study. Yet, we were expected to treat them like five year olds, make sure that they were comfortable and that they didn't get lost! As a result of the paranoia certain people in the organization bore, the following procedure was adopted:

• The escorts, usually two per guest, were to stand in different parts of the reception area and were to constantly keep in touch over mobile telephones. Under no circumstances could the guest be missed, we were told, and whatever we did, we had to come back with the guest.
• The placards that the foundation gave us bore the names of the guests and anything else that they might have identified us with, in font 14. As most of us would agree, 14 is not visible from a distance of more than a few feet. Besides, in most circumstances, the placards mis-spelt their names. Invariably, we ended up making new placards by hand.
• Once the guest was spotted, we were to telephone each other and then telephone the driver of the car. After that, we were to report to someone in the organization.

As is the case with most international flights coming to India, these people would come at unearthly hours at night. Flights, which were scheduled for somewhere around midnight, would land somewhere close to 2 am because of the winter fog and by the time immigration was cleared, it was three. By the time we had tucked our responsibilities into bed, it was four in the morning. Yet, at six thirty every morning, we would be woken from our sleep so that we could make it in time for breakfast (which was at 8:30) or the conference (which was at 9:00).

Many organizations have a very rigid, and usually misplaced, idea of what keeps productivity at optimal levels. I am no organizational behaviour specialist, but I do know that insulting the people who are running around for you is the best way to make them lose interest in your project. This simple fact, however, seemed to be new to the foundation. For the course of the conference, we were lodged at the venue (courtesy some vehemently emotional appeals by some of the graduate students) and our meals were at the venue. However from the very first meal we ate, we could sense each bite we took pulled at the budgetary corsets harder, making the organizers sweat. The waiters would ask us questions like, "You don't want soup, do you?” or every now and then when we had sat down to eat, we were told "this food wasn't for you, it is for the visitors, it is too expensive to order chicken for everyone, but now that you are eating, we'll see how we can accommodate this bill."

These minor insults and inconveniences aside, the conference, the first for most of us, was, to use a cliché, a learning experience. While the mathematical content was either completely absent or too abstruse in most talks, we did carry back the essence of what makes a good presentation, and what can potentially kill a presentation. There were come speakers who could hold their audiences even though what they said was understood by very few present. They were others who seemed like they wanted to lose their audiences, while many seemed like they didn't care either way.

While most of the speakers were witty or technical, the award for the best responded to speech went to a certain member of the organizing committee who we shall refer to here as WCSC. Along with the backstage awards and the cliché of the customary thanks, WCSC wanted to thank, or rather admire, the convener of this conference. He began by saying that there were some people who found success in whatever task they undertook and went on to say that it was so only because of the intervention of God. Thus, in the poignant gap between, "And now I call the assembly to give a big hand for, " and the name of the convener, everybody thought that they would be asked to clap for God. So when we realized that our appreciation was indeed for a mortal entity, there was both a sigh of relief (for most of us hadn't ever given God a standing ovation and we weren't quite sure how to go about it) and a suppressed snigger of amusement at WCSC's coherence from the members of the conference.

DISCLAIMER: I do not pretend that the views expressed here are representative of my views on the conference. I have chosen to mention only certain aspects of the event, and even amongst those, only a certain section of views have found expression. I do not pretend, also, that the emotions expressed here are representative of the intensity with which I felt them in the course of the conference. Lastly, I do not consent to this post being viewed as representative, in any respect, of my appreciation of the conference.