The Equation Called Life

Mathematics is one of the purest interpretations of human intelligence. And human intelligence is an inseparably integral facet of human existence. Hence mathematics, even in its most basic metaphysical form, abstracts the foundations of human existence.

I remember being introduced to the beautiful world of calculus at age of 15. It was suddenly bewildering to shatter the discrete bounds of known mathematical logic, and form a ‘naturally intuitive’ way of appreciating the larger picture. This was a realization of negative infinity on one side, and positive infinity on the other. A few days back, as I was walking bare-footed on wet morning grass in a garden alongside my home, this innocent appreciation unexpectedly exploded into a moment of an almost-enlightenment.

I saw life in Math and Math in life - Isn’t life but a Mathematical problem? It starts in childhood - with understanding various symbols associated with the problem. Identifying and isolating the constants and variables; appreciating the power that operations like addition, subtraction, multiplication, division possess; their impact to the foundations of the equation. We appreciate the constancy of action-reaction – that if you add ‘x’, an equal amount gets subtracted as well, and the equation never changes.

We grow up, and as teenagers we stop just-looking at the equation, but begin our journey to find answers – the Solution of the mathematical problem cast in an equation. We learn strategies, apply them, win or fail to simplify the equation, and evolve gradually. There are times when an approach strikes the bull’s eye, and you’re filled with jubilation – the equation suddenly feels much straightened out than before. And then there are moments when you’ve complicated it so much, you’re almost on the verge of giving up. It might have been because of a bad strategy, a wrong move, or focusing on the insignificant variables ignoring the primary weighty ones. Regardless, the process is dynamic, and so life keeps moving ahead.

And then comes that revelation – your equation doesn’t exist in isolation. You connect with people whose problem looks similar to yours, with similar solutions, or similar approaches towards the solution. Maybe you even end up with someone whose equation has the same ‘roots’. With these people, like magic you see both equations unwinding and simplifying with mysterious spontaneity. Life would suddenly appear much simpler and happy, with the best part that you didn’t need any forced effort for it. On the other hand, with few others your effort for a common solution seems to go round and round till you reach a point where there is no solution. You explicitly cast common variables to – Not Defined, and though at later stages this step might probably simplify your problem, there is equal probability of it making the path terribly complicated. In any case, throughout this journey you keep learning what to do and what not to do. This makes you short-circuit strategies in your mind, which is good and bad at the same time. You apply learning, but restrict creativity and appreciation of newness. It isn’t strange then to digest the fact that a lot of elderly gentlemen always go ‘Ek tha humaara samay jab <Include random-most comparisons here>’.

With advancing steps towards simplification, you come across moments when you have to consider certain Assumptions in order to simplify the equation more. These assumptions, at times, work out perfectly. But if proved false later on, they have the capacity to screw up your whole strategy. Additionally, in an urge to reach the conclusion faster, we short-circuit assumption phases with overwhelming spontaneity. Hence, we form presumptions about people, places, situation, time, etc. This does not need too much of mental capacity, as we become champions of prejudice, that is most clearly missing in children. But even the 6^th grader knows Math is not supposed to be done that way.

So what do we have to learn from Math that can make our lives simpler and happier? First, it’s okay to fail today, but incessant continuity is the key which defines whether you ‘slowly and steadily’ reach the solution or perish trying to. Unsolved problems are ugly. So does become the lives of those who just give up.  Second, a lot of times the perfect way-to-things strikes you purely by chance. Imagine the probability of the person who invented the concept of probability actually finding it probable to invent probability. I bet all innovations are children of this mystic Aah-moment, and so it’s okay to keep walking on, knowing with positive gut that one day soon your ‘Aah’ will hit you and transform your life – another step towards the solution. Third, unless your assumption is calculated, you are destined to be deadlocked and get back to amend your assumption. So being open to creatively, to newness of life, to everything that exists ready to be absorbed, is a way to walk the journey with a smile, and a hope that one day when you put down your pen, it is not to follow the easy path and give up, but to end your bare-footed walk on the rocky bed of thorns and bushes; to place below the equation a golden mark that’ll sparkle as a ‘Q.E.D.’

*Q.E.D. Quod erat demonstrandum – which had to be demonstrated 

Censuring Natural Myths

I don’t know the exact moment when this thought struck me. Maybe it was while saying Goodbye to Papa as he rode left from CISF towards Bareilly, slowly waving his hand with words of blessings ‘May you be successful’. I suddenly felt lost as I took a calculated right turn and drove on towards my office in Noida.

My eyes were on the roads, a part of my brain speculating best ways to dodge traffic and reach office faster, but my mind was entirely consumed by a notion so spontaneous, it infected every quantum of my conscience in that time bracket – an ‘Aha’ moment indeed.

The notion of certain natural myths we accept as a part of universal truth.

‘I’ am not one. But many.

Our lives are intertwined so complicatedly, it blinds us to how delicately each action, each moment binds us to an action-reaction couple with every single entity around us. In theory “I live for myself”. But this is like the ideal gas equation – so restricted by assumptions that it never can be true. Like ripples on surface of water, our life is always in dynamic equilibrium. Vibrations of my ripples impact my parents, siblings, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and enemies; in fact even those I might not even know. And but obviously theirs impact mine equally symmetrically. The intensity and nature of this impact varies. But this is what stands to define ‘Life’ at any single point in time. I visualize this as mad commotion on a water surface hit by small and big stones, each ripples an event, and each intersection of crests and troughs that mutual action-reaction impact on multiple distinct lives. This lack of constant, and persistence of disturbances in space and time gives birth to the concept of being alive – something that no science can ever perfectly mathematically model.

The x=t isn’t Infinite.

I confess being fooled by this subtle fallacy everyday - the fact that I’m going to live forever. Even when I do realize the naivety of my agreement, I face a failure to relate exactly to the concept of ‘Not being alive anymore’. The culprit is an apparent ‘slowness’ of time and the fact that we rarely look at the mirror and realize we’re a day, a month, a year, a decade older. The fact that yesterday and tomorrow seem so indistinguishable makes us extrapolate the similarity and forget to notice how our physical and mental contours entirely transform between any two points of time. Hence from when I was a kid learning to eat and speak and walk, to when I was leading conferences, travelling miles across states, and solving complex calculus - scarcely seem contained in one single life. But such is the beauty of time.

‘Infinity’ would never exist for me, not for my loved ones, not for you, not for anyone – is a painful disillusionment.

‘I will do X one day’ will never happen.

I often have unplanned talks with myself. These talks mostly concern what I’m doing and what I want to be doing. And seemingly, it is so easy to fool the heart and say “That day will come.” And so life moves on. And so life did move on when I was 12 and wanted to play infinite Tekken-3 matches, and told myself ONE DAY I’ll install a full console machine at my home when I’m grown up and earning. Life did move on when I entered college and told myself ONE DAY I will be so filthy rich, I’ll ask my mom and dad to stop working crazy hard (as they have been doing all their life), gift mom exquisite gold jewelry, dad a beastly Harley, and surprise them with exotic vacations. It is still moving on today as I sit in my cabin working on product optimization, thinking ONE DAY I’ll pack my travel bag and leave for a substantially unplanned world tour, far away from the ecosystem I’ve naturally adapted to.

Does any human ever like the concept of being fooled? Ironically that’s what we do to ourselves all the time. Though, interestingly, and painfully so, the picture isn’t entirely black or white. Such transitory dreams may mostly never convert to reality, but they keep something alive which is like fuel to our engine – Hope. It’s but unrealistic to assume everything we launch forth towards will become true. So for those who enjoy the odyssey, life is a gift. It’s that gift which makes powerful phenomenon like ‘tears of happiness’ possible, even if we’d never actually reach the destination we planned for. So at the end of my short stay on Earth, it is these moments of subtle permanence that I expect to relive in memories with eyes closed and cracked lips smiling. An endless list of God-fatherly times to the most notorious secrets which’ll perish with me.

I brought my bike to a stop in the underground parking area. Then slowly looked around. Cars were carefully parked everywhere; some had drivers sitting inside with mysterious expressions. I walked towards the entry door. Just before stepping on the stairs, I paused and looked behind. Amid the black and grey and deep blue herd of cars, my white Twister shone like a majestic unicorn.The parking guard looked at me suspiciously as a stood a minute longer than usual. Everything around me was the same. Everything but me.