Just a place to jot down my musings.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

On climate change

The New York Times has published what I think is an absolutely first-rate article on climate change economics. "Building a Green Economy" by Paul Krugman goes into the details of climate change policies without losing sight of the big picture: it is just as important to understand the differences between cap-and-trade and carbon-tax policies within the US as it is to understand the effects of politics and globalization on attitudes towards climate change action in China and India and Brazil.

The article is structured well, beginning with "Environmental Econ 101", then looking at current doubts cast on climate change science itself in "Climate of Doubt", examining "The Cost of Action", studying globalization and the difficulties of coordinating action in "The China Syndrome", warning of "The Costs of Inaction", looking at different ways in which to adopt climate change-countering policies in "The Ramp versus the Big Bang", and finally examining the all-important "Political Atmosphere" which, sadly, dominates and poisons most public discourse.

Ultimately, Krugman's rationale for why we should pursue economic and social practices that will reduce carbon emissions is something I fully agree with:
As Harvard’s Martin Weitzman has argued in several influential papers, if there is a significant chance of utter catastrophe, that chance — rather than what is most likely to happen — should dominate cost-benefit calculations. And utter catastrophe does look like a realistic possibility, even if it is not the most likely outcome.

Weitzman argues — and I agree — that this risk of catastrophe, rather than the details of cost-benefit calculations, makes the most powerful case for strong climate policy. Current projections of global warming in the absence of action are just too close to the kinds of numbers associated with doomsday scenarios. It would be irresponsible — it’s tempting to say criminally irresponsible — not to step back from what could all too easily turn out to be the edge of a cliff.
I wonder if the desacralization of nature that has taken place over the last three hundred years has had anything to do with our blindness to what may lie ahead. (Seemingly trivial counter-example: the Ganges, the most sacred and the most polluted river in India.) I don't know if it could have prevented what happened, but I suspect a more sacralized view of nature as Nature would have made it easier for us, culturally, to respond to the crisis once we became aware of it.

Friday, April 9, 2010

"The Rose-garden of Secrets"

The first two verses of the Gulshan-i Rāz of Maḥmūd Shabistarī are among the most exquisite verses I have ever read in my whole life.

بنام آنکه جان را فکرت آموخت
چراغ دل بنور جان بر افروخت

ز فضلش هر دو عالم گشت روشن
ز فضلش خاک آدم گشت گلشن

There is no way I can capture their power and compactness in English, but I am driven (like a moth to the flame?) to try to translate them:

In the Name of Him, who taught the soul to think,
Who kindled the lamp of the heart with the light of the soul.

From His excellence, the Two Worlds are illuminated;
From His excellence, Adam's dust becomes a rose-garden.

How can I capture the majesty and the beauty of such lines?


Friday, April 2, 2010

New Swadharma post

A new post, after I attended T.M. Krishna's wonderful lecture-demonstration on the "Evolution of Ragas" in Carnatic music. TMK's emphasis of the historicity of the structures we use to understand Carnatic music today is, I think, a wonderful remedy for the broader problems that are caused by South Asians' currently ahistorical approach towards our culture(s) and heritage(s).

I will write more about TMK's lecture later today or tomorrow.

(How) does history matter?

Much to think about.


Monday, February 22, 2010

"The pale blue dot"

"[A] mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam."

Such an amazing video. Carl Sagan was a wise man. A demonstration of our insignificance in time and space could scare the weak into passivity and fatalism and despair at the pointlessness of it all; it takes courage and wisdom to generate a moral vision of compassion and connectedness from that insight.

(h/t: sszz)

Monday, February 15, 2010

The meter(s) of the rubā`ī

Working through the super-long, complex names of the Persian meters (بحور) that make up the patterns of the rubā`ī (رباعی) has inspired me to try to take a crack at figuring out what the different adjectives modifying the general pattern can mean. (Yes, I'm sure this information can be easily obtained somewhere, but this is so much more fun! Besides, I have actual work to do right now which I'm assiduously avoiding.)

Looking at Prof. Frances Pritchett's handbook of Urdu prosody, it is clear that the basic structure of the meter of the رباعی is fairly simple.
— — [—] — {— —} — — [—] —
Here:
a) — represents a long metric unit;
b) [—] represents either — (long) or x x (two short units); and
c) {— —} represents one of three combinations: — —, — x x, or x — x.

But essentially, the meter of the quatrain is always constrained to precisely 20 morae (assuming that — corresponds to two morae and x to one).

Now under the traditional Perso-Arabic prosodic system (فنِّ عروض), each variant is named differently, according to the particular manner in which it is broken down. The general pattern is considered to be a variant of hazaj muthamman sālim (هزج مثمّن سالم), which has the form
x — — — / x — — — / x — — — / x — — —

The رباعی meters all thus have to have four different feet, and so my guess is that each variant will thus have up to four adjectives stacked up after it, one for each foot that is transformed from the hazaj sālim x — — — pattern. (This guess accords with the list of twelve named رباعی meters in Prof. Pritchett's handbook.)

What about those cases when there are fewer than four adjectives? It makes sense to suppose that an unmodified foot would have to follow the hazaj sālim x — — — pattern. Unless our basic رباعی pattern forces us to choose something different, of course. [Notice my assumption here: the رباعی's metric pattern is independent of the description using the particular terminology of Perso-Arabic عروض.]

With these preliminary ideas in mind, let's scan through (no pun intended) the list of named رباعی meters in Prof. Pritchett's handbook and see what we find.

1) Right away, there are two, and only two, patterns for the first foot, namely — — x and — — —. It is fairly obvious that these two patterns are named akhrab (اخرب) and akhram (اخرم), respectively.

2) It is also clear that there are two, and only patterns for the last foot, namely x — and simply —. We can again be fairly confident that these patterns are, respectively, majbūb (مجبوب) and abtar (ابتر). Meters #8 and #10 should be proof enough.

Knowing just these four feet is enough to reveal some of the implications of the constraints imposed on us by the underlying رباعی pattern:
a) any foot that follows — — x (اخرب) has to begin with x —
b) any foot succeeding — — — (اخرم) has to begin with a —
c) any foot preceding — (ابتر) has to end in —
d) any foot preceding x — (مجبوب) has to end in — x
And sure enough, every single meter listed here obeys these constraints.

3) Looking at meter #2, we have three adjectives describing three variants of the hazaj sālim foot, two of which have already been identified earlier. Thus, by elimination, x — — x must be makfūf (مکفوف). This is verified by meter #1.

4) By a similar process of elimination with meter #3, we find that x — x — must be maqbūz (مقبوض). This is verified by meter #4.

And furthermore, the رباعی pattern tells us that
a) مقبوض can apply only to the second foot of the رباعی pattern;
b) مقبوض has to be preceded by a foot ending in x, which in the case of the first foot has to be اخرب — — x;
b) مقبوض has to be succeeded by a foot beginning x —.

5) The only remaining adjective is ashtar (اشتر), which must apply to the only remaining pattern, — x —.

Furthermore,
a) اشتر can apply only to the second foot of the رباعی pattern;
b) اشتر has to be preceded by a foot ending in —, which in the case of the first foot has to be اخرم — — —;
b) اشتر has to be succeeded by a foot beginning x.

We are done. We have named all the variants of the hazaj sālim foot that can appear in the رباعی meter. (Which we could also have done by looking up any half-good manual on عروض, but we will let that pass.) For the sake of easy reference, here they all are, sorted from x to —.

A) x — : مجبوب
B) x — x — : مقبوض
C) x — — x : مکفوف
D) x — — — : سالم
E) — : ابتر
F) — x — : اشتر
G) — — x : اخرب
H) — — — : اخرم

One last variant of the hazaj sālim foot, which does not crop up in the رباعی but which appears very frequently elsewhere, is
I) x — — : mahzūf, محذوف

We are now in a position to generate a meter from its name! Take هزج مثمن اخرب مکفوف ابتر for instance. Its first foot clearly has to be — — x and its last, —. The only options for the second and third feet are either مکفوف x — — x or سالم x — — —, because if they were anything else they would have been named. Clearly one of them has to be مکفوف because the رباعی pattern prevents there being two successive سالم x — — — feet. But the third cannot be مکفوف because the fourth foot ابتر needs to be preceded by a foot ending in — if the رباعی pattern is to hold. Thus the third foot has to be سالم and hence the second foot has to be مکفوف, which fits perfectly in that location. And so we have
— — x / x — — x / x — — — / —
which matches the handbook!

One final test. One of the most awesome meters in Persian poetry is the one in which Nezāmī wrote Laylī-o Majnūn: هزج مسدّس اخرب مقبوض محذوف . What does that come to? Well, for starters, مسدس means only three feet per hemistich, unlike the رباعی; and since we have three adjectives, we're set. In sequence, we get
— — x / x — x — / x — —,
which corresponds perfectly with the scansion of the first line:

شرط است که وقت برگریزان / خونابه شود زبرگریزان

Wondrous, indeed, is the world of prosody!

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Another lesson in perspective


This time restricted to our own planet.

If you've ever wondered how deep the oceans are, if you've ever wanted to really know, really feel in your bones how far below sea level the oceanic depth plunges, wonder no more.





Why pearls, and why strung at random?

In his translation of the famous "Turk of Shirazghazal of Hafez into florid English, Sir William Jones, the philologist and Sanskrit scholar and polyglot extraordinaire, transformed the following couplet:

غزل گفتی و در سفتی بیا و خوش بخوان حافظ

که بر نظم تو افشاند فلک عقد ثریا را


into:

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung.

The "translation" is terribly inaccurate, but worse, the phrase is a gross misrepresentation of the highly structured organization of Persian poetry. Regardless, I picked it as the name of my blog for a number of reasons: 
1) I don't expect the ordering of my posts to follow any rhyme or reason
2) Since "at random strung" is a rather meaningless phrase, I decided to go with the longer but more pompous "pearls at random strung". I rest assured that my readers are unlikely to deduce from this an effort on my part to arrogate some of Hafez's peerless brilliance!

About Me

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Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
—W.H. Davies, “Leisure”