While most of us often use the lessons taught in school in our daily lives, very few can actually remember a direct application of something taught at school, either at work or play. We either take it for granted or it just fades away, much like our memory and hair. However, all hope is not yet lost. The story that follows indicatess that some lessons learned are never forgotten. More importantly it shows how incidents like these have subtly influenced many of us in our choice of careers.
As a graduate student in the department of Chemical Engineering at the University of Texas, one of my jobs was to teach students the wonders of computer-aided design and process simulation. We (the students or 'kids' and the teaching assistant or TA) take a chemical process from scratch (basic chemistry) and build a process block by block using CAD software. Once the process is built and all the equipment designed we develop cost estimates. The whole thing however depends on getting the chemistry correct at the outset. Chemistry at its most elementary level is about making 'good stuff' from other 'not so useful stuff'. However, the laws of mother nature do not allow us create stuff out of thin air, so if one atom disappears it must reappear as a product. Mathematically speaking, what shows up on the reactant (left) side of a chemical equation must show up on the product (right) side.
One group was dealing with a relatively new process: oxidizing hydrocarbon waste using water as an agent. For a week they had been struggling with the chemistry. Their TA was little help. He either avoided them or told them it was beneath his dignity to solve such a trivial problem. The problem: Balance an equation containing hydrogen, carbon and oxygen. The 'kids' were unable to balance the oxygen atoms on either side. Out of sheer desperation the 'kids' finally threw up their hands and asked me for help. After about half-an-hour of trying to balance it the text-book way I gave up and kept the problem aside. May be this reaction was truly 'unbalanceable'…..or so I thought. I was about ready to carry on with more pressing things when an old Khade trip came to mind.
For those who may not know, Dhananjay (Raja) Khade was our chemistry teacher in the 9th and 10th standard. A flamboyant personality coupled with an incredible ability to recite chemical formulae from memory made him an awe-inspiring teacher. His voice in the back of my mind kept saying, "Balance the oxygen first stupid fellow." I had already tried that and it had not worked, but Raja's voice again came through. It said, "Where's your brain stupid fellow, always balance oxygen in its atomic form not with the molecule." (For the chemistry-illiterate, oxygen in its natural state is always a molecule i.e. two atoms coupled together). Well, okay now that might work. So I threw away the bunch of scratch paper that I had been working with till then and started with a fresh mind and approach. To make a long story short I had the whole thing sorted out in ten minutes. I then checked the equation using the 'text-book' approach; it was correct. I took the 'balanced' equation back to the 'kids' and explained the method to them. Most of them thought I was God (at least for that day). Unfortunately not too many pretty women in that bunch. One of them even mentioned, "How come nobody taught us this?"
As I biked home from work that evening my thoughts drifted to Raja and his inimitable style of teaching. It was definitely unique, part cajoling, part chastising and part threatening. I still remember the ammonia oxidation reaction to nitric oxide, thanks to Raja's way of drilling it in. In due course of time chemistry became my favourite subject, and although I yet got negative marks from Raja in tests (very few actually got positive marks) I soon began to enjoy Raja's daily routine of flourishing equations at us. Over time I gradually took industrial chemistry and technology to heart, and by the time I was ready to say goodbye to St. Mary's I knew I wanted to be a chemical engineer. These thoughts were reinforced by another chemistry teacher, Keki Irani, who advised me 'Oils and Soils, that's the field to go for young man." I thought that a love for practical chemistry would lead me to become a chemical engineer. Famous last words! I think Raja and Keki would be terribly scared if they knew that I actually took their words to heart, considering that I almost gassed my lab mates to the point of no return during one of our experiments. Every one except me could see that 'greenish yellow' gas, popularly known as chlorine, emanating from my test-tube.
What Raja taught me was more than chemistry. It was his love of chemistry that came through which impressed me the most. His jaunty walk, his way of talking and his connection with real-world chemistry contributed to his larger-than-life persona. Does anybody remember what 'Sal-peet' is used for? I do! Chemistry became a wonderful obsession, chemical technology a creative outlet - and there was Raja the man who knew it all, and could answer any questions I had.
I lost contact with Raja and Keki through junior college, engineering and then graduate school. I was lucky to have some excellent chemistry teachers in college. Those in St. Xaviers might recall Malachy Alvares and Jayant Prabhu. This time during my visit to India I visited St. Mary's. It had been almost ten years since I last was there. As I was strolling the corridors I stopped outside one of the classes. There was Raja waving his hands vigorously, bringing molecules alive and bringing chemical processes within our lives. I watched the 'master' at work; he seemed less threatening now than when I was in class. The 'stupid fellow' did not faze me that much anymore. As my thoughts drifted down memory lane I remembered Raja's cure for common cold. "Take a local train from Churchgate to Andheri and get down at each station and visit the lavatory. Take a deep breath and smell all the ammonium hydroxide you can." That was his way of making connections between chemistry in the text books and that in the real world.
As I gazed out in the distance, the bell rang and Raja walked out. He recognized me and said, "So daddy tells me you are doing your PhD." I mumbled some incoherent reply and after a few minutes of small talk let him proceed to another class. Major regrets set in that time. Darn it, I could have told him all what I just shared with you. More regrets…he did not even say "stupid fellow, get out of my sight" once. As I walked down the stairs I realized one thing, I was still the 'Shishya' he was still the 'Guru'.