Tomichan Matheikal's blog

In response to Karan Thapar’s article which appeared in The Hindu a few days back, (which also inspired my last blog: From myths toward mathematics ), an ISRO scientist writes in today’s Hindu : “I am a retired scientist/engineer who worked in one of India’s premier scientific organisations, ISRO, for 38 years.  I believe in Ganesha, and that Shiva exists in Kailash, often riding on his bull.  Can anybody accuse me of having two faces?” I can and I do, dear scientist.  The myths to which Ganesha and Shiva belong and the science which you make use of for probing into the outer space far beyond Mount Kailash are not compatible.  One destroys the other.  Science replaces myths with facts, and myths have always killed scientists literally and metaphorically.  Don’t forget the scientists who were subjected to inquisition and incarceration during the medieval period.  Don’t ignore the crusade that continues even today against science in other names such as jihad. But I won’t ta

Courtesy: The Hindu 11 – 10 = ½ = 0.5 The equation on the blackboard baffled me as I walked into a classroom where I was given an exam duty.  Somebody had rubbed out something, I thought.  My mind started playing its usual game.  Come on, change it, said my mind. This is how I changed it:  11 – 10 = 1 I erased two figures mentally, the denominator 2 and the final decimal part of the equation.  Such a simplistic solution failed to satisfy me especially since I had a lot of free time in the exam room.  Seeing my solution, Sherlock Holmes would have said, “Elementary, Mr Matheikal.” My mind made the following equation: (11 - 10 ) ÷  2 = ½ = 0.5 That was neat, said my mind.  I had added a denominator 2 to the first part of the equation.     11 – 10 = 1 = 0.5 x 2 What I did was to transpose the denominator 2 to the RHS (right hand side) of the equation. One could go on.  How far you go with it depends on your capacity to work with numbers as well

It was years since I had met Siddhartha.  When I heard that he was sitting under a peepal awaiting enlightenment, I was curious.  I embarked on the metro train that would take me near to Kapil Vastu Estate. Kapil Vastu Estate was a huge complex developed by Siddhartha’s father, Shuddhodhana Gautama, one of the most successful industrialists of neoliberal Hindustan.  “Profit is the dharma of the trader,” was Shuddhodhana’s motto.  He had graduated from the London School of Economics before doing MBA from Harvard University.  Siddhartha and I were classmates.  Not that my father could afford to send me to the same public school as Siddhartha.  Since my father was Shuddhodhana’s personal assistant and a close confidante, the business magnate decided to put me in the same school as his own son.  Probably, it was his way of monitoring his son indirectly.  Siddhartha showed little interest in academics or co-curricular or extra-curricular activities.  He came and went back by