Hindustan Times ST (Mumbai) - Brunch
THE SQUARE ROOT OF FEAR
Numbers don’t lie, but they can inflict suffering in countless other ways
My expectations about films to do with maths geniuses were set by A Beautiful Mind (2001). And so, watching the trailer of the Vidya Balan-starrer Shakuntala Devi was a shock to the system I last encountered in my 10th standard trigonometry class. That memorably alienating feeling triggered by numbers speaking to each other in a language that seemed at once new and extinct. In Salman Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories, such confounding matters are clubbed under the category P2C2E (Processes
Too Complicated to Explain). Mathematics is perhaps my life’s biggest P2C2E. And here I see the eyes of a thousand readers light up and mist over, a Milky Way of maths survivors, banded together for billions of years to come.
THE PAIN OF MENSURATION
It’s not like we didn’t try. Those early hopeful years of long division triumphs and mixed fraction successes. We felt good. We felt in control. But nothing prepared us for what was to come. People we considered friends sat with a knowing, even bored, look on their faces as the teacher filled the board with unintelligible squiggles. They understood. And we felt betrayed. And then we felt a little dizzy. Some days, sitting with our maths homework, thoughts zigged and zagged like pollen particles in a petri dish. When it wasn’t Brownian Motion, it was something less haphazard. Our thoughts were trapped like the electrons orbiting the nucleus of an atom. And if this analogy doesn’t work, I blame my left brain.
Adolescence is often defined as the time when changes in the body’s chemistry are reflected in one’s temperamental behaviour. We right-brainers had not just
NUMBERS SIMPLY STAND THERE ON THE KEYBOARD – MOCKINGLY, OMINOUSLY – KEEPING THEIR SECRETS FROM SOME WHILE REVEALING THEM TO OTHERS
the confusion and turmoil of puberty to contend with, we had mensuration, too – a geometryrelated term that provoked plenty of puerile laughter at the time. (‘Mastication’ being every word nerd’s first dalliance with classroom humour.)
’RITHMETICAL RIGMAROLE
As an adult nearing 40, it’s hard to explain the sense of joy I still feel over being freed of any maths-related pressure. On the other hand, some of my recurring nightmares still feature alarm clocks and algebra exams. For a fear that is this universal, we’ve done a pretty bad job of fortifying a vast segment of humanity from it. I understand how the three Rs are the basis of education, but there is no need here for me to revisit the ridiculous reasoning that refuses to review redundant ’rithmetical rigmarole. Let’s all agree that phone calculators clinch the argument simply and elegantly.
Which is not to say the numerically challenged don’t have fun with numbers. We can be endlessly fascinated with noughts and crosses, or passionately pretend to understand what our earnest poker teachers are trying to explain to us. For logic – in that cool, calculating way – is not our strongest suit, either. Lastly, it’s awful to play into that horrid female stereotype about map reading, but I personally struggle with that, too. And so, navigating duties are happily handed over to the better suited. But evolution compensates, and my tribe has developed excellent skills in the area of fiddling with car stereos.
TWO TRAINS LEAVE THE STATION AT THE SAME TIME…
It is in the realm of music appreciation that I find this inadequacy to be particularly frustrating. Hearing friends casually discuss beats in a rhythm, for example, makes me envious.
The Mozart Effect suggests that listening to classical music can boost spatial-temporal reasoning. Years of listening to Bach and Beethoven have yielded no results, in my case. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling a surge of emotion when the wide-ranging Brandenburg Concertos layer a film’s music score, or Ode to Joy erupts on my playlist.
It does get a bit complicated while dividing a staggering bill with inebriated friends, or speaking stone-cold sober to the CA. I’ve often wished I could guess the answer to numerical riddles, still heady from the Mathemagic volume of the Childcraft series that every ’80s school library stacked. But alas. They say emotions always trip you up in the end, but I think numbers do. They simply stand there on the keyboard – mockingly, ominously – keeping their secrets from some while revealing them to others. This might sound a bit disturbing to the clinically sane, but to them I quote John Nash, speaking in his biopic: “There’s no point in being nuts if you can’t have some fun with it.”
Remember the Met Gala last year, where the theme was a provocative “camp” and beautiful stars outdid one another to look outrageous? Katy Perry arrived as a human chandelier, Jared Leto carried a model of his own severed head in his hand, and Deepika Padukone channelled her alt-barbie avatar with dark lipstick. Priyanka Chopra’s Mad Hatterlook from Alice in Wonderland was appreciated, but her curls also inspired a thousand memes.
In the midst of all this, one
Indian invitee stood out. Dressed in a powder blue Peter Dundas gown and a dramatic maang-tika, Natasha Poonawalla managed to make her version of OTT look feminine and cool.
BIRTH OF A STAR
The 38-year-old daughter-in-law of Pune’s famed Poonawalla clan may have top Bollywood stars as her best friends. However, the mother of two is quite the stunner herself. She’s the executive director of the familyowned Serum Institute that has been in the news for its efforts to create the coronavirus vaccine. But as the world patiently waits for the other side of this pandemic, let’s focus on the brighter aspects of life.
Where does Natasha Poonawalla come from and why has she been under the radar all these years? From who did she inherit her “fashion forwardness?” How does she have the world’s top designers on speed dial? And is it true that Katy Perry phoned her for fashion advice?
Natasha laughs warmly at this outburst. “Yes, and no,” she says. “Yes, Katy [Perry] got in touch with me because she wanted some
Indian outfits. And no, I’ve never been under the radar. I’m probably noticed a lot more now because of social media. Before that, my life in Pune was very different from that in Mumbai and it was possible to keep it that way.”
A fashion diva who is also one of India’s wealthiest women, Natasha Poonawalla’s demeanour is easygoing and friendly.
Your public profile describes you as a philanthropist and you chair the Villoo Poonawalla Charitable Foundation. Doesn’t your fashionable avatar stand in the way of being taken seriously?
“I don’t think you have to portray a certain image to be a certain person,” smiles Natasha. “You can have many aspects to your personality. Earlier, when I’d dress up and go out, they would say ‘socialite’, who – in my head – is somebody who wakes up in the afternoon, goes for a blow dry, doesn’t work and only cares about dressing up. All my friends are working girls and guys, and all of them have a direction in life. That’s the kind of people I’m attracted to because that’s the kind of person I am!”
“ALL MY FRIENDS ARE WORKING
GIRLS AND GUYS, AND ALL OF THEM HAVE A DIRECTION IN LIFE. THAT’S THE KIND OF PEOPLE I’M
ATTRACTED TO.”
BACKGROUND BASICS
The groundedness of this reply is augmented by the picture Natasha paints of her childhood.