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Tuesday, 31 May 2016

DOING SCIENCE IN INDIA. A PERSONAL NARRATIVE (Part 2 of 3)


7. AT THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD (1979-1980)

I stayed at a Guest House in the Oxford University campus till Mike could find me a house on rent. And he had a tough time doing that. He rang up a number of people, and many of them agreed initially. But when they were told that I am an Indian, they declined, giving some excuse or the other (‘Smell of Indian curry’, etc.). Mike was very angry, and told me that these same people enjoyed going to Indian restaurants for the curry. Finally, he arranged that the college where he was a teacher (Jesus College) would give me an apartment from its married-students quota.


Winter came, and Mike was very amused when I told him that I was seeing snowfall for the first time.

There were some other firsts too for me. One was the quaint British sense of humour. Prime Minister Thatcher was rather tough in dealing with the trade unions. But on one occasion she relented, and the opposition described it as a climb down. She said something which I cannot recall,but the response from an opposition leader went something like this: ‘When one is climbing down, the view from below is not particularly appetizing’!

Once Mike took me to some social gathering, where lots of cream and strawberries were being consumed. He pointed out to a very old person who tended to keep his mouth open, and had no teeth left. Mike said: ‘Look Vinod, that old chap looks as if he is already dead’!

My apartment was on the ground floor, and there lived an American couple on the first floor (no idea whether they were married or not). The way apartments are built in many Western countries is not what we normally have in India. Ours are RCC structures all through, with thick slabs separating the floors. But I noticed that in Oxford (and also in some other cities abroad I have lived in since then) the ceiling of one apartment, which is naturally the floor for the apartment above, is not very thick (it is a wooden structure), and far from being sound-proof. My problem was that when I tried to sleep sometime before midnight, I was woken up by a certain hammering cum battering cum screeching cum grazing sound, coming through the ceiling. I thought it strange that somebody upstairs indulged in some carpentry-like activity, so late in the day. But soon it dawned on me that it was something else altogether. The couple regularly made love at this hour, before falling asleep, and the sounds which reached me were the protestations and the creaking of the bed under them. Very unprecedented situation indeed! I could get sleep only when they were asleep after the daily chore. Anyway, they left the place after a few weeks and normalcy was restored in my routine.

On joining Mike’s group I made a courtesy call to the Director of the Clarendon Laboratory. He also had a senior Chinese visitor at the same time, who had brought him a gift. The gift reflected the Chinese value system regarding science and technology. It was a large and very transparent disc of the electroceramic PLZT. I was very impressed by the contrast with India. Indian scientists carry (or used to carry in those days) gifts like a silk scarf or a necktie, or the Bhagwad Gita, or some piece of handicraft. Here was a Chinese scientist taking pride in a technological achievement of his laboratory, and showing it off!

The atmosphere in Mike’s group at the Clarendon was pervaded with crystallography, and I soaked in a lot of it. Mike himself is a crystallographer par excellence. Among many other things crystallographic, he served a term (or perhaps two) as President of the BCA (British Crystallographic Association).

Once they had a visitor, Helen Megaw. I told her that I had read her book Crystal Structures, A Working Approach, and found it very instructive. She was very pleased, but also said that she was disappointed that it did not go into a second edition. Unless your book goes into a second edition, you have probably not done a very good job writing it.

At the Clarendon I also came across Prof. H. M. Rosenberg, whose name was familiar because of his book on low-temperature physics. He used to come to the lab on a bicycle. We ran into each other often, but the remarkable coincidence was that on at least 90% of the occasions we saw each other in the men’s room only!

People in Mike’s group were nice, except for one obnoxious character. Among other things, he was peeved by the fact that the Nuffield Foundation was paying me such a decent amount as Fellowship. He made his perceived British sense of superiority a bit too obvious. Once, in a heated discussion, I ended up asking him: ‘What is colonialism if not international banditry’?


[With Mike's group at the Clarendon (1979). I am in the front row, second from the left]

During my tenure at the Clarendon I learnt about the ‘rotating-analyser method’ developed by Mike and coworkers for making ultra-sensitive measurements of the birefringence of crystals. We used this technique for investigating the ferroelastic phase transition in the solid-solution series lead phosphate-vanadate (Wood, Wadhawan & Glazer 1980; Wadhawan & Glazer 1981).

I met Bob Newnham for the first time when he came to the Clarendon as a visitor. It turned out that he was the referee for my paper on the ferroelastic effect in orthoboric acid (Wadhawan 1978). He told me that, after reading my manuscript, he had put one of his graduate students on the task of preparing a polycrystalline ceramic of orthoboric acid, though that effort turned out to be unsuccessful. I told him that I was looking for a post-doctoral position after my tenure at the Clarendon ended. He agreed readily, and offered me a three-year position at Penn State. I accepted, but I had to return to my job at BARC after only one year at Penn State because my absence from the job could not be for more than two years in all, and I had already spent a year at Oxford.

So, in mid-1980 I and my family moved to the Pennsylvania State University. But before that, while still at the Clarendon, I went to Sicily for a Summer School on Ferroelectrics.

The Summer School at Erice in Sicily gave me a lot of material for my book on ferroic materials (Wadhawan 2000). I also got to meet many of the prominent names in the field of ferroelectrics: A. M. Glass, J.-C. Toledano, Jan Fousek, L. E. Cross, and many others.


[At the Summer School on Ferroelectrics, Sicily (1980).]

The lectures by these people gave me insights into the stuff ferroic behaviour is really made of.


8. THE PENN STATE DAYS (1980-1981)

Life at the Materials Research Laboratory (MRL) of the Penn State University was an enriching experience. The Director at that time was Dr. Rustam Roy. I learnt a thing or two from him about how to give lectures such that the audience feels totally involved. His approach was to make the whole thing very very interactive.

The group led by Leslie Cross and Bob Newnham at the MRL carried out great research work on ferroelectric ceramics and composites. Cross, Newnham, Barsch (a theoretician), and a couple of other professors (each with a different specialization), collectively led a bunch of ~25 juniors: post-docs, Ph.D. students, and graduate students. There was a weekly seminar, and the best thing about it was that the seniors shared with us the details of the research programme for the next few years. The goals set were explained very clearly to the whole group, something I had never experienced at BARC. In fact, when I returned to BARC in 1981 I remarked that I am better informed about what the Penn-State team is going to do in the next few years than what we are supposed to be doing at our Crytallography Group of BARC.

In those days there was considerable debate in India about excellent research versus relevant research. Bob Newnham showed me how one can do research which is both excellent and relevant. His group did ‘targeted basic research’. For example, they promised to the funding agencies that they would develop miniaturised capacitors and transducers. And their approach for doing this was to develop new configurations of composites based on proper and improper ferroelectric materials. And basic research on ferroelectrics was geared to meet the same objective. They ended up doing the best and the most innovative research in this area. Of course, they went all the way, making devices which actually worked. The best thing was that a part of the research was purely academic, with no immediate applications in mind. It was thrilling to watch this at close quarters.

I saw another interesting thing during my Penn-State days, namely a visit by American car manufactures to the MRL, the purpose being to tell the scientists about some pressing problems in the auto sector which called for some innovative solutions. At the other end of the spectrum, there was also a visit by a hard-core group-theory expert, Dan Litvin. He had come looking for some common area of interest between him and the work being done in our ferroelectrics and materials science group. This visit led to a lasting friendship between him and me. He listened with great interest to my description of what ferroic materials and ferroic phase transitions are all about. He went back and started a programme focussed on the symmetry aspects of ferroic phase transitions (Litvin 2010). We have also done some joint work since then (on latent symmetry), but more on that later.

Like at the Clarendon laboratory in Oxford, here also there was an obnoxious character in the group I worked in, but this time a very senior person. He was an American whose ancestors had migrated rather recently from England. I found his haughty attitude quite offensive, and had some difficulty keeping my cool. But Bob Newnham made up for all this, just by being what he was.

Bob was an expert in many areas of condensed-matter physics, the common thread being his passion for structure-property relations in materials, and his keenness to exploit the knowledge of structure-property relations for the benefit of mankind. He once said to me: ‘Vinod, the challenge is to make those little atoms and molecules work to our advantage’.

An immensely innovative scientist, he was also a great teacher and a marvellous speaker. I happened to be present at a couple of lectures he gave at major conferences. Of course he did use Powerpoint, but had the self-imposed restriction that he prepared each lecture afresh, and not by just rearranging the already existing slides in his stock. That brought freshness, topicality, and spontaneity to the lectures. Plus there was the awe he inspired in the audience by presenting so many new results and ideas. When a lectures ended, there was the usual applause, but with one difference. People not only got up and clapped, but went on clapping for surprisingly long times. On one occasion I timed it casually; it was more than four minutes. And this happened after just about every public lecture he gave. To get a feel for the contents of such lectures, see Newnham (1999).


[This picture with Bob Newnham was taken, not at Penn State, but at the 6th International Meeting on Ferroelectricity (1985) at Kobe, Japan.]

Bob Newnham was full of new ideas, and had a keen innate sense of what technology is going to bring for us in the future. At a personal level, he also gave me a glimpse into what the life of a dedicated scientist should be like. At work he felt no need to compete with others for the top job and become a boss and get all the appurtenances that come from being one. He just enjoyed being a scientist. He enjoyed teaching also. He had some interesting hobbies, and I got a glimpse of them when he invited us home for dinner. There was a permanent and genuine smile on his face which comes when you are completely at peace with yourself and are completely happy with life. Here was a role model for me, and not only from the vantage point of science as a profession.

During my stay at Penn State I worked on two research problems: Demonstration of the ferrobielastic effect in quartz crystals (Laughner, Wadhawan & Newnham 1981); and demonstration of the shape-memory effect in PLZT ceramic (Wadhawan, Kernion, Kimura & Newnham 1981).

Every three months (or was it six months?), some senior person from the group went to Washington to present to the funding agency the progress report. Once he carried a report which included the work I had done on the ferrobielastic effect in quartz. I had designed and fabricated a press small enough to sit on the stage of a polarizing microscope. With it I could use a tiny crystal of quartz for the experiment, and the requisite uniaxial stress could be generated just by turning a screw by hand. Earlier somebody had used for this purpose a huge press normally employed for high-pressure studies. The advantage of my device was that, since it sat on a polarizing microscope stage, one could easily obtain microphotographs of the ferrobielastic twinning introduced in the quartz crystal. The person at the monitoring agency in Washington was very impressed, and sent a message that he wanted to meet me. The person who brought the message gave enough hints that the reason for the invitation was to offer me a permanent or semi-permanent stay in the USA. I was just not interested, and did not go to meet him.

Near the end of my year-long stay at Penn State I and Bob Newnham drove to Ottawa to attend the XII IUCr Congress (1981). I gave an invited talk here. The title was ‘Ferroelastic Phase Transitions’. This was the first invited talk I gave in my career. The irony and the tragedy was that it was given in an international conference, rather than in a national conference (as is usually the case). And it was a near-disaster. I had prepared very hard for it. I even bought a tape recorder, and rehearsed and recorded the talk several times, so that I would know how much I could fit into the 30 minutes allotted to me. The content of the talk was nice, but what went wrong was that, in my nervousness, I spoke too fast, so the talk ended well before the time I had at my disposal. In view of the fact that several parallel sessions were being held at the conference, the Chairman of my session had to announce a five-minute break before inviting the next speaker. And the irony is that the big boss from India, who was responsible for this lack of experience of mine, was sitting in the audience.


9. BACK TO B.A.R.C. (1981-1990)

I was back at BARC in mid-1981, full of confidence and new ideas. But nothing much had changed at BARC, so there was bound to be trouble for me. Anyway, the first major thing I did on return was to write a major review article entitled ‘Ferroelasticity and related properties of crystals’ (Wadhawan 1982). This turned out to be a game changer for my career. All those endless hours spent in the BARC library lapping up papers by the reclusive K. Aizu (originator of the concepts of ferroelasticity and ferroicity) were duly rewarded. My article was the first comprehensive review of the subject, and I think it helped in attracting many physics people to this field. My name became known internationally among people working in this field.

Once the big boss returned from a conference abroad, and he was talking to us about it. He said, ‘Wadhawan, they were talking about your review article’. I was thrilled to hear that, and responded in some incoherent manner not typical of me. He said ‘Well, they were not abusing you!’ There was pin-drop silence for a while. I said nothing, but could not help wondering what had made this man, who had mastered the art of carrying a frozen smile on his face all the time, feel so flustered? Frustration, that here was a young upstart who could stand on his feet without his consent and bolstering?

There was pressure on me to devote my time to technique-based research, whereas I was determined, more than ever before, to first choose a research problem and then apply whatever techniques were needed to make progress. Another major cause of friction with the big boss was that, influenced by Bob Newnham’s ideas about doing ‘targeted basic research’, I questioned the wisdom of doing, say, only neutron-scattering based research simply because the large number of instruments set up in the reactor hall had to be kept busy. I was snubbed and insulted in meetings if I dared raise the issue of relevance of a piece of research carried out by anybody in BARC. I think this value system was not confined to BARC alone, and was a national problem, at least in those days. No wonder our system has not been producing Bob Newnhams in large enough numbers.


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Acoustical ferrogyrotropy, or ferroacoustogyrotropy

Anyway, I tried to do research on problems which interested me, but by factoring-in the constraint that no worthwhile equipment would be available to me. For example, I introduced the notion of ferroacoustogyrotropy (Wadhawan 1982), by analogy with optical ferrogyrotropy mentioned earlier in this narrative. Acoustical activity arises from the spatial dispersion of the elastic-stiffness tensor, and is described by a fifth-rank tensor. I collaborated  with my friend Keshav Bhagwat, a brilliant mathematician, for an analysis of this tensor property. It has a certain intrinsic symmetry, which we used for introducing a lower-rank (fourth-rank) tensor which is completely equivalent to the fifth-rank tensor for describing the acoustical activity of crystals. A similar tensor of rank 4 had been introduced earlier in the literature, and our detailed analysis showed that there were serious errors in the formulation and analysis of that tensor  (Bhagwat, Subramanian and Wadhawan 1983; Bhagwat, Wadhawan and Subramanian 1986).

The concept of pure-mode axes exists in crystal physics in the context of propagation of acoustic waves in crystals. For a direction to be a pure-mode axis, the longitudinal-polarization component of the acoustic wave must be independent of the transvese-polarization component, and vice versa. An acoustic axis is a degenerate pure-mode axis. In our work we introduced the term 'pure acoustical activity' for describing the acoustical activity of a crystal along an acoustic axis. The concept of 'pure ferroacoustogyrotropic state shifts' was also introduced and analysed, and a total of 29 ferroic species were identified in which such state shifts can possibly occur.

We also showed that, like optical ferrogyrotropy, acoustical ferrogyrotrpy also is only an implicit form of ferroicity, meaning that state shifts involving change of acoustical activity can only be effected via a concomitant explicit ferroic property. For example, such state shifts in quartz can only be effected through ferrobielastic or ferroelastoelectric state shifts.
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Mike Glazer was the founding editor of the journal Phase Transitions, begun in 1978. In 1985 he invited me to be the Regional Editor for India for this journal. I was happy to accept the invitation. Thus started an association with this journal which lasted for the next 25 years. In 2006 I took voluntary retirement from the task of Associate Editor of the journal, so as to concentrate entirely on book-writing work. I was asked to continue for some more time so as to ensure a smooth transition. They brought out a special issue of the journal in my honour (see Glazer & Rolder 2010).


In Indian science, Editorship of journals is supposed to be done by big bosses, who have due secretarial support for this kind of work. I was too young, and nowhere near being a big boss, so my task was harder. Anyway, this was one more challenge I accepted, and if the remarks by the then Editor-in-Chief are any indication (see Glazer & Rolder 2010), I did a good job of it.

Lack of adequate secretarial support was not the only difficulty I faced. There were other problems too. For one, this journal is a purely commercial venture, with no support from some academy or society (unlike, say, Physical Review which is run by the American Physical Society). Another difficulty was regarding the availability of sufficiently motivated referees. If some big boss is the Editor, referees would oblige easily, for obvious reasons. Not so in my case. I solved this problem by myself becoming one of the referees for most of the papers. This entailed doing an adequate amount of reading in the field of the paper I was processing. Liquid crystals was a good example of that, as I received many manuscripts from this field. As time passed, I acquired a good working knowledge of what phase transitions in liquid crystals are all about, even though I had never intended to do research on phase transitions in liquid crystals. The same became true about many other fields. As a result, 25 years of editorship work has given me a lot of breadth (though not a matching amount of depth also) in various aspects of phase transitions and physics. Moreover, this personal touch from the Editor is possible only in theme journals like mine, and I noticed its absence, for example, when I submitted papers to, say, Physical Review. I have published three papers in that journal, and was not at all impressed by the choice of referees or the quality of refereeing. It is clear that its editors choose from a large data base of referees, and then depend excessively on what the referees pronounce about a manuscript. The whole process is a bit too mechanical. In the case of my journal I often overruled the referees, simply because of my better familiarity with phase transitions.

Most of the papers submitted to me were from India (till I was upgraded to the Associate Editor position), so I got a good ringside view of the strengths and the weaknesses of some aspects of Indian science. I was rather ruthless in rejecting bad papers, but often I felt that the basic work is not bad, but has been presented badly. Use of bad English by the authors was of course a constant headache for me, and in quite a few cases I ended up rewriting substantial portions of a paper. I also felt that the blame in such cases lay with the senior author.

In 1987 I went to Perth to give an invited talk at the XIV IUCr Congress.

In 1987 I also started working on the high-Tc superconductor Y-Ba-Cu-O. I and my colleagues demonstrated that it is a ferroelastic (Wadhawan 1988; Somayazulu, Rao & Wadhawan 1989), and exhibits the shape-memory effect (Tiwari & Wadhawan 1991).


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Latent symmetry

One book that I found absolutely fascinating was Shubnikov & Koptsik's (1974) 'Symmetry in Science and Art'. I read portions of it several times. Obsession again? Yes, and it paid off again. I ended up discovering something significant, and I called it 'latent symmetry' (Wadhawan 1987).

There is this well known Curie principle of symmetry. It says that when several phenomena of different origin are superimposed in one and the same system, the symmetry elements which survive in the composite system are only those which are common to each phenomenon taken separately. Naturally, the symmetry of the composite system cannot be higher than the symmetry of each phenomenon taken separately (but see below). So there is a lowering of symmetry, and Shubnikov & Koptsik (SK) called it a process of 'dissymmetrization'.

Can the composite symmetry ever be higher than this lowest common symmetry? The answer is yes, and the term 'symmetrization' was used by SK for describing such a situation. If the conditions are just right, such a possibility can occur in those cases wherein the phenomena or objects superimposed have equal or equivalent symmetry.

SK just left the matter there and moved on. But I was stuck. I kept wondering where this extra symmetry came from, after we had taken due note of the individual symmetry of each component and of the symmetry introduced by us for making the composite system is a given special way. It turned out that, in certain cases, the final symmetry was more than what could be accounted for like this, and I called it latent symmetry. A simple example (my favourite) is that of two equal right-angled isosceles triangles which when juxtaposed (in two dimensions) so that they share their long side end up becoming a square. This composite object (square) has, for example, a 4-fold axis of symmetry which cannot be accounted for by all the book-keeping you can do, so I said say that it was lying as a latent symmetry in the two triangles and became manifest when the two triangles were juxtaposed in a certain special way.

Soon after my paper on latent symmetry was accepted for publication (Wadhawan 1987), I got a note from Bob Newnham, thanking me for introducing him to the idea of symmetrization. This meant that Bob was the anonymous  referee for my paper. I was impressed. He was under no obligation to make it known to me that till he read my manuscript he did not know about the possible existence of symmetrization (and had thought that the Curie principle entailed dissymmetrization always). But he did. This is the kind of intellectual honesty and intellectual humility every person in this noblest of professions called science must have.

Bicrystals

One reason why I was fascinated by the discussion of symmetrization in SK's book was my interest those days in bicrystals. Any two crystals sharing an interface constitute a bicrystal. For a group-theoretical analysis of the symmetry of bicrystals it is convenient to take the interface as planar, and a bicrystal is formally defined as two semi-infinite crystals sharing a planar interface. Pond & Vlachavas (1983) wrote a great and exhaustive paper entitled 'Bicrystallography', and I read it again and again. Later on, when I was to formulate a comprehensive classification of twinning in crystals, I took due note of the ideas from bicrystallography, something not done in any of the earlier classification approaches.

Soon after the paper by Pond & Vlachavas, there was a paper by Vlachavas (1984) in which two theorems about bicrystallography were proved. One said that, given a two-component composite {A, gA}, where the component A is of point-group symmetry F, the order of the point-group symmetry of the composite is 2/k times the order of the group F, where k is a positive integer. The second theorem (a corollary of the first theorem) said that the lowest order of the composite point-group symmetry is 2 times the order of the group F. To me this felt wrong. An obvious counter-example I thought of was that of the square (mentioned above) constituted by juxtaposing two equal right-angled isosceles triangles. For it, F = {1. msubx}, a group of order 2. The composite (i.e. the square) constructed from it by the isometries {1, msuby} has the symmetry G = 4subz msubx msubxy, a group of order 8. But the theorem by Vlachavas wrongly predicts this order to be either (2/1)x2 = 4, or (2/2)x2 = 2. And this error occurred because Vlachavas was not aware of something called latent symmetry.

Another example of the of the non-validity of the theorem was given later in Litvin, Wadhawan & Hatch (2003).

Enunciation of the symmetry composition principle

The recognition by me that latent symmetry exists has enabled me to enunciate a comprehensive 'symmetry composition principle' (Wadhawan 2011). I have stated this principle as follows:  The existence of symmetry generally implies the coexistence of two or more equal or equivalent components or building blocks, and the overall symmetry group is then EITHER the product of the symmetry group of the building block and the placement-symmetry group which describes the mutual placement of the building blocks; OR it is a larger group because of the presence of latent symmetry.
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The series of symposia called International Symposium on Ferroic Domains (ISFD) was started in 1989, and I was one of the founding members of its International Advisory Board. The first symposium in this series, ISFD-1 was held at Volgograd in 1989, and I was invited to give a talk in it, apart from chairing a session.

On my way back from Volgograd, I halted for a month as a Visiting Scientist at the Institute of Physics, Prague. Here I worked with Vaclav Janovec. I got a chance to have a close look at the work done by him on the symmetry aspects of ferroic domains and domain walls, and covered it in substantial detail in by book on ferroic materials (Wadhawan 2000). Another dear friend I met at Prague was Vojtek Kopsky, mentioned above in the context of optical gyrotropy.

Fed up with the lack of funds and other support needed for doing anything substantial, I took one of those snap decisions I am well-known for. I decided to leave BARC, and ask for transfer to another unit of the DAE, namely CAT (Centre for Advanced Technology), Indore. This entailed great personal sacrifice, particularly regarding the education prospects of my daughter and son.

The big boss’s reaction was remarkable. He kept saying that if I want to go, he is not going to stop me. And he also made, on the side, what he thought was a truly magnanimous offer. He said he would put me in charge of an X-ray diffractometer (which I was to run after it was purchased and set up), and that I would be in ‘control’ of that facility! Very revealing indeed. His way of punishing me for having a mind of my own had been to make sure that I remained an unimportant person, not in ‘control’ of anything substantial.

After a few days a senior person close to the big boss came to my room and offered to make me head of a certain Section under his Division, after the present incumbent retired. Anyway, since the big boss had kept saying that he is not stopping me if I want to go, I latched on to that statement at its face value, and thanked him profusely for that, and started packing. I was so happy that I could escape.



10. AT THE CENTRE FOR ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY (CAT), INDORE (1991 - 2004)



CAT has two major research programmes: development of accelerator technology and development of laser technology. My initial mandate was to set up a crystal-growth laboratory for work on crystals of interest to the laser programme. In view of my interest in ferroic materials the Director also let me initiate research on polycrystalline ferroelectric ceramics. In due course this part of CAT under my charge was named the Laser Materials Division (LMD). Another important activity I added later was setting up of a major facility for fabricating high-optical-quality polycrystalline domes of ZnS by CVD (chemical vapour deposition), for use in target-seeking missiles.



Ours was a new research centre, and mine was an even newer laboratory in it, which meant that one had to start from scratch for anything one wanted to do. No laboratory building, no equipment, nothing, to start with. At some stage funds were sanctioned for the LMD to have a building of its own. I can say that I had to build everything, brick by brick.



In 1991 I received an invitation from Prof. Claude Boulesteix to spend a couple of months as a Visiting Professor at his laboratory at Aix-Marseille, France. This was a very interesting visit for me. French science and technology is, of course, very impressive. The French are also very good at not being nosey about what people around them are doing, so long as no nuisance is created. Their appreciation and love for the female form is legendary. I still remember a hoarding I saw there, which showed nothing more than a bare female leg, the bottom two-thirds of it, in an extended horizontal posture. I have seldom seen anything so sensuous as that.



Around 1992 I started work on my massive book on ferroic materials (740 pages), and took almost seven years for completing it (Wadhawan 2000). Much of this work was done in the evenings and on weekends. It was, and still is, the only comprehensive book on the subject. It was one of the most fulfilling activities I ever undertook. Just imagine. Seeing so many gaps in the new subject, particularly regarding formal definitions and classifications, and providing these definitions and classifications. Giving credit where it was due. Covering everything from basics to theory to applications. It was fun, so I never felt that I was working hard.








The extensive library work I did on ferroic materials made me aware of another exciting field of research, namely smart structures, one reason for this being that ferroic materials find extensive applications in smart structures. After ferroic materials, smart structures became my next obsession. I ended up writing a book on them, with the title: ‘Smart Structures: Blurring the Distinction between the Living and the Nonliving’ (Wadhawan 2007). In this book I introduced, among other things, the properties of ‘superelectrostriction’ and ‘superpiezoelectricity’, by analogy with superelasticity in physical metallurgy.


For both ferroic materials and smart structures, I was ahead of my times in Indian science.

In the book on ferroic materials I had not covered what became later a very important field of investigation, namely multiferroics. I made up for that by discussing them extensively in the book on smart structures, particularly because of their great potential for use in smart structures. One of the multiferroics we investigated at CAT was the relaxor ferroelectric PMN-PT(70/30) (Wadhawan, Pandit & Gupta 2005; Pandit, Gupta & Wadhawan 2006).

In 1996 I visited Vienna to attend ISFD-4. I was an invited speaker there, as also a session chairman.



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My NSBT classification (or tensor classification) for twinning in crystals

As a crystallographer I was naturally exposed to the occurrence of twinning in crystals. I also learnt that there were two majors works of classification of twinning, one by Friedel and the other by Donnay & Donnay (see Wadhawan (2000) for references). I felt that these classifications were not comprehensive and informative enough, and kept thinking about formulating a better classification scheme. Finally I came up with the NSBT (or tensor) classification scheme, which is all-inclusive and informative (Wadhawan 1997; also see Wadhawan 2000). The information part is contained in the unique symbol I introduced for labeling the twinning in any crystal.

I argued that twinning is determined by the crystal structure, and the crystal structure is properly described by the space group of the crystal, so a good classification of twinning must work at the space-group level. Actually, one has to work with
two space groups, one the actual space group of the component crystals of a twin, the other a real or hypothetical prototype space group. The later has at least one additional symmetry operator, which maps one component of a twin to another. Without going into too many details here, I come of the end result of such considerations:


All twins must be one of two types: T-twins (T for translational) and rotational twins. Components of a T-twin do not differ in any tensor-property coefficient, and in rotational twins at least one tensor property coefficient is different across the interface.


Rotational twins can be of two types: B-twins and Aizu twins. For B-twins a prototype structure cannot be defined. For Aizu twins such a prototype is always definable.

Finally, Aizu twins can be either N-twins or S-twins. Components of an N-twin have zero 'relative spontaneous strain', and it is nonzero for S-twins.


Thus all twins can be divided into four fundamentally different classes: S-twins, N-twins, B-twins, and T-twins. Hence the name 'SNBT classification of twinning'. It covers everything: transformation twins, growth twins, mechanical twins, bicrystals.

The symbol I introduced for twinning consists of one of the four letter S, N, B or T, followed by one or more lower-case letters in brackets which represent the tensor properties in which the twin components differ.

Take the case of Dauphine twins in alpha quartz. The crystal is ferrobielastic as well as ferroelastoelectric, meaning that the twin components differ in at least coefficient of the compliance tensor and the piezoelectric tensor. Accordingly the symbol I assign to this twinning is N(d,s); here d denotes the fact that the two components of the twin differ in at least one piezoelectric coefficient, and s is the corresponding representation of the difference in the compliance-tensor coefficient(s).

In contrast to this, the Brazil twins of quartz are growth twins, with a mirror operation parallel to the optic axis as the twinning operation. Unlike the case of Dauphine twins, this type of twinning does not disappear on transition to the beta phase on heating. My symbol for this twinning is  B(g), with g denoting the fact that the twin components differ in the optical gyration tensor (optical activity).

Unlike my description, the classification scheme of Donnay & Donnay is not able to make a distinction between Dauphine twins and Brazil twins of quartz. Both come under the same category, namely 'twinning by TLS' (TLS = twin lattice symetry).

Similarly the twin individuals in ammonium chloride crystals differ in the sign of a piezoelectric coeffcient. But neither the description 'twinning by merohedry' (Friedel), nor 'twinning by TLS' (Donnay & Donnay) conveys any information about this fact. In the SNBT classification the symbol in this case is N(d).
--------------------


Volume D of the International Tables for Crystallography (2003) deals with the physical properties of crystals. I counted 23 citations to my work in this volume (referring to my work on twinning, ferroic domains, ferroelastic properties, etc.). No other Indian crystallographer has his work cited such a large number of times in these Tables. I am mentioning this (as well as many other trivia in this narrative) because later on I shall comment on what it takes to be a Fellow of the Indian science academies.







In 1999 I organized and chaired a ‘Microsymposium on Ferroic Structures’ at the XVIII Congress of the IUCr at Glasgow.


In my book on ferroic materials (Wadhawan 2000) I had introduced the new notion of latent symmetry. When I told my friend Dan Litvin about it, he not only recognized it as something new and important, but also gave it a formal group-theoretical footing (Litvin & Wadhawan 2001, 2002).

In 2001 I received an invitation from Guillermo Castellanos-Guzman to spend some time in his laboratory at Guadalajara, and give lectures in his laboratory and also at Mexico City. Guadalajara is at the other end of the Earth from Indore, so I wangled an invitation from Prof. Dorian Hatch of the Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah, to spend a week in his Department, on my way to Mexico. Dan Litvin thought this would be a good opportunity to do some more brain-storming on latent symmetry, so he flew down from Pennsylvania to Utah, and the three of us made some more progress in understanding latent symmetry (Litvin, Wadhawan & Hatch 2003).

[With Dan Litvin.]




In 2002 I attended ISFD7 at Toulon, France, and gave an invited talk, apart from chairing a session.



2004 was my final year of service before retirement on superannuation. So I decided to catch up on all the pending visits to foreign laboratories, particularly because of my plans to do book-writing work after retirement. In March 2004 I visited the Condensed Matter Section of the Abdus Salam International Centre for Theoretical Physics (ICTP), Trieste, as a Senior Guest Scientist. I gave two lectures there: ‘Smart Structures’ and ‘Symmetries and Broken Symmetries in Condensed Matter Physics’.



The ICTP has an excellent library, and I used it every day, gathering material for my book on smart structures. I found that the library stocked a copy of my book on ferroic materials (Wadhawan 2000). One day I happened to mention this to the staff there. Soon I got a call from the head of the library. She told me that they had the tradition that whenever the author of a book in the library was a visitor, he/she was invited to autograph the book and write a few words. I was happy to oblige. Look at the thought behind this simple practice. How many libraries worth their salt do something similar?



From Trieste I went to Montreal. The occasion was the March 2004 Meeting of the American Physical Society (APS). It was a mind-blowing experience. Some 5000 participants. More than 25 parallel sessions on practically all the five days, apart from a few poster sessions. No convener. No inaugural function. No conference bags. No free lunches! No operator in any of the lecture halls for helping with the projectors etc. And clockwork precision in the timing and running of the various parallel sessions, so that the participants could easily go from one session to another.



In one of the sessions the Chairman came four minutes late. Without waiting for him, the audience exhorted the first speaker to start on time, and he did. When the Chairman came in, running, the speaker introduced him, saying: ‘Here in the Session Chair’. The Session Chair quietly settled down, and set the clock for timing the already speaking speaker.



My 36-minute invited talk at this APS Meeting was in the focus session on multiferroics. Its title was ‘An Overview of Multiferroic Materials and Modelling’. It was the only invited talk of the session; in fact it was the opening talk.

At the ICTP my host was Prof. V. Kravtsov. He attended my lectures on broken symmetries and on smart structures. In the discussion that followed I mentioned to him that I have been working on a book on smart structures, and that it would be a great help if I could come back to the ICTP specifically for the purpose of doing library work for this book. He agreed immediately, so I was able to spend another two months at the ICTP during 2004.

In 2004 I also spent a week at the laboratory of Prof. K. Kitamura, the great crystal-growth expert. This visit to Tsukuba was timed to overlap with the dates of ISFD8, so I could attend that conference also.

After retirement I was given the prestigious Raja Ramanna Fellowship (2005-2010) by the DAE, thanks to Dr. Sahni (the then Director of CAT), Dr. Banerjee, and Dr. Kakodkar.


11. TEACHING ACTIVITIES

I have been involved in teaching work all through my career. I joined BARC in 1968, and from 1969 onwards I have been teaching off and on, first at the BARC Training School, and then at the CAT Training School. Even now, in these post-‘retirement’ years, I have only enlarged my audience by writing extensively on my blog (‘The Vinod Wadhawan Blog: Celebrating the Spirit of Science and the Scientific Method’).

At BARC the lectures I gave were on crystallography, crystal physics, phase transitions, and materials science. At CAT I also covered smart structures. At some stage, as I rose up in seniority, the entire training programme at CAT was put under my charge. I made it a point to establish direct contact with the trainees, and always remembered the dictum that ‘the secret of education lies in having respect for the pupil’. The love and affection I got in return was gratifying. This experience also told me what I was going to do after ‘retirement’: Mentoring and science popularization at a global level (made possible by the Internet).



[Continued in Part 3. The references cited are listed at the end of Part 3.]

Monday, 30 May 2016

DOING SCIENCE IN INDIA. A PERSONAL NARRATIVE (Part 1 of 3)

Thank you, Internet, for enabling me to survive and prosper as a scientist in India, and for enabling me to accomplish the task of science popularization and promotion of scientific temper in society.

As the cynic said, ‘science is what scientists do’. Since our science is entirely what certain humans have been doing, there is clearly a human angle to it. But the great thing about this noblest of all professions is that scientists have agreed to study natural phenomena by strictly following the rigours and the discipline of what I have called elsewhere the 8-fold way of the scientific method (Wadhawan 2014a).

I am 100% a product of the Department of Atomic Energy (DAE), Government of India (GOI). I am very grateful for what the DAE has given me. I want to make special mention here of Dr. Srikumar Banerjee and Dr. Anil Kakodkar, who were particularly helpful in the advancement of my scientific career. Dr. Banerjee’s role, in particular, has been so steady and substantial that he finds a mention in the acknowledgement section of practically all my books (Wadhawan 2000, 2007, 2010, 2011/2014).

Who has been my mentor? Undoubtedly Mike Glazer (Prof. A. M. Glazer, University of Oxford, UK). Irrespective of the good things done for me at the early stages of my career by some bosses, the most steady well-wisher and mentor I can name is Mike Glazer. Thank you Mike, for being what you are.

If I have to name my role model as a scientist, it has to be the late Bob Newnham (Prof. R. E. Newnham of the Pennsylvania State University, USA), but more on that later.

Who is the greatest Indian of recent times? I must name two: Dr. Abdul Kalam and PM Narendra Modi.

Dr. Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam, a great nationalist, died recently. My idea of a nationalist Indian has nothing to do with that person's religious beliefs (or their absence). I cannot say 'RIP' for him because I believe that nothing is left of a person after death, except the consequences of his/her thoughts and actions. Dr. Kalam left behind a lot we Indians can be truly proud of.

The name ‘Mahatma Gandhi’ is familiar all over the world, even among those who do not understand what the word ‘Mahatma’ means. When Kalam died, this is what I wrote on my Facebook page (on 30th July 2015): ‘Abdul Kalam, the real ‘Mahatma’ . . . . ’. I hope the epithet ‘Mahatma Kalam’ catches on.

The other great Indian of recent times is our PM, Narendra Modi, the bad-mouthing by some of the most important idiots of India notwithstanding. I shall remain eternally grateful to the venerable Mr. Mani Shankar Iyer for his famous chaiwala (tea-seller) remark about Modiji. In fact, one should be grateful to some other worthies also for similar reasons.

In the Indian conditions one has to make a distinction between a senior scientist, an important scientist, an eminent scientist, a great scientist, and a successful scientist; of course, sometimes the same person can be two or more of these. It is always a good idea to choose one’s words carefully and precisely.

THE CONTENTS LIST

1. The Evolution of My Language Skills
2. The Punjabis
3. My School Days
4. The University Days
5. Life at the BARC Training School (1967-1968)
6. My Scientific Career at BARC (1968 onwards)
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7. At the University of Oxford (1979-1980)
8. The Penn State Days (1980-1981)
9. Back to BARC (1981-1990)
10. At the Centre for Advanced Technology, Indore (1991-2004)
11. Teaching Activities
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12. At BARC again, as Raja Ramanna Fellow (2005-2010)
13. The Post-‘Retirement’ Years
14. The Importance of Scepticism among Scientists
15. What’s Wrong with Indian Science?
16. Inculcation of Scientific Temper in Society 



1. THE EVOLUTION OF MY LANGUAGE SKILLS

A scientist conducts research for understanding natural phenomena, and then he publishes the findings. The drafting of the research paper calls for a high level of discipline and mastery in the use of the language, mostly English. Moreover, one should not only be able to write well, but also speak the language well for explaining the significance of the work at conferences etc. I started my academic life with a serious handicap on these matters.

The ethos at my home was 100% Punjabi. We spoke in Punjabi. There is something about speaking a language which gets into your system. The twist of phrase, the idioms and phrases, the choice of words, all have a cultural history which affects your thinking and self-image. Even today I am happiest speaking in Punjabi.

I got my education in an ordinary government school, in which the medium of instruction was not English. After school I joined the B. Sc. (Physics Honours) course of the University of Delhi, along with a school friend of mine, Tejbir Singh Jaggi. He and I felt lost and forlorn in this new scenario in which most other students spoke English fluently and confidently. An interesting incident comes to mind here.

In the practicals class for physics, each of us had a partner for conducting experiments. I and Tejbir were one such pair. Our teacher was one Dr. Mela Ram Wadhawan. On the first day we found that he was surrounded by students, taking instructions from him and asking questions. We felt timid, not knowing how to converse with him in English in front of everybody. So we went to a corner and constructed sentences, correcting each other as we proceeded, and did some rehearsal on what we were going to ask the teacher about the experiment assigned to us!

I took this incident seriously, and decided to do something about my English. I found Bertrand Russell’s writing skills very fascinating. His mathematical habits showed up even in sentence construction. His utmost regard for logic in whatever he wrote was very educative for me. I tried to emulate him. I also enjoyed the raw power of Jack London’s stories, as also the brisk narrative of Sherlock Holmes stories.

In due course I have also inculcated the habit of avoiding logical fallacies in whatever I speak or write. I try to make sure that no complete sentence of mine can be misquoted out of context.

So much for written English. What about spoken English? I had a terrible start. In mid-1979 I landed in London, on my way to Oxford to work with Mike Glazer as a Nuffield Foundation Travelling Fellow. At the airport I was received by an official from the Nuffield Foundation who, among other things, handed over a cheque to me for the initial expenses. I was telling this gentleman that Mike was based at the Clarendon Laboratory, and that he also taught at the St. Jesus College. He could not help smiling because the way I pronounced the word ‘Jesus’ did not make any sense to him (or so he pretended)! Those were the days. I decided that I would use my stay at Oxford for improving my spoken English as well. This came easy. I have a rather keen sense of observation, particularly about how people speak. Watching the English people speaking their mother tongue (particularly on BBC Radio) was very instructive, and I was a quick learner.

Encouragement followed soon after, though not for spoken English. Mike and I decided to co-author a book (though the idea was dropped later). I did some sample drafting and showed it to him. He was very impressed, and said: ‘Vinod, I wish my countrymen could write English like you do’ (see Glazer & Roleder 2010). This was indeed a far cry from my school days.

I have also tried to learn Russian, French, and Italian, but not with much success. One good thing that has happened though is that I can recognize words in English which have been borrowed from these languages.


2. THE PUNJABIS

I am an Indian from Punjab, and that has a lot to do with my conduct and worldview.

Punjab has been known by several other names in the distant past: Sapta Sindhva; Hafta Hindva; Pentopotamia; Madra Desh (named after Madri, mother of the Pandvas in the epic Mahabharat) (Gupta & Gupta 1999). Going back in time, although Indologists continue to differ on the age of the Indian civilization, there is agreement that it is among the oldest in the world, and that Punjab was its cradle. Excavations at Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro indicated that the Indus Valley Civilization flourished around 3000 BC [recent studies have shown that the Indus era is ~8000 years old]. It seems to have embraced the whole of Sindh and Punjab, as also large parts of Kathiawar, the valleys of the North-West Frontier Province, and some parts of the Gangotri basin.

The Vedic Civilization emerged in this era. It is associated by some with the coming of the tall and fair Aryans, although nobody can say for sure where they came from (if at all they came from outside; the current thinking is that there was simply a migration of the indigenous people eastwards due to a prolonged weakening and failure of monsoon). The Aryans lived in tribes, spoke Sanskrit, and worshipped Nature in all its manifestations. Vedic Hinduism evolved in Punjab. Many of the great works of Sanskrit literature were written here.

The Rigveda is the most important among the four Vedas. It is probably the oldest literature of mankind, and thus contains the earliest recorded human thought. It is the fountainhead of practically all the basic concepts developed in India, and in a way (because of its antiquity), throughout the world.

Punjab is mostly fertile plains which, along with its invigorating climate and a hardy populace, have been the source of its wealth. The wealth invited a string of foreign invasions, mainly through the Khyber Pass. There came the Persians, the Greeks, the Bactrians, the Scythian tribes, the Mongoloid Huns, and then the Muslims (Arabic, Pushto, Turkish, Afghan). Naturally, Punjab has seen a large amount of racial intermingling and assimilation. And, of course, wars. It is important to remember these facts when one tries to understand the Punjabi mind, particularly the never-say-die spirit and the sense of humour.

Culture flourishes in times of peace and prosperity. Punjab has had more than its share of prosperity. The rich cultural heritage of Punjab derives from its various social, political and religious movements, not to mention the antiquity of its existence. Its foundations have been laid by Rishis and Gurus. Thousands of saints, scholars, and martyrs have given nourishment and character to the culture. Punjabis do well, and then they like to show off! Others are not amused by this, and the inferiority complex seeps through in their comments.

In a lighter vein, let us take a look at all the Nobel Laureates of Indian origin in science. All were Punjabis (well, almost!): Prof. Abdus Salam (particle physics); Prof. Hargovind Khorana (molecular genetics); and Prof. S. Chandrasekhar (astrophysics); the last-mentioned spent many of his formative years as a physicist at Lahore in Punjab! Prof. Salam hailed from the Jhang district of Punjab. Prof. Khorana, a Punjabi, migrated to the U.S. after he failed to land a decent job in India.

Punjabis, by and large, have a rather strong sense of humour. They are ever ready to laugh, not only at themselves, but also at others, and this creates problems for them; it surely did for me on several occasions. Here is a more recent example.

There was a gracious and popular lady scientist, several years senior to me. Both of us had ‘retired’ from service on superannuation, and I was doing a tenure at the BARC as a DAE Raja Ramanna Fellow (2005-2010). I was taking tea with some friends at the canteen when we saw this lady approaching us, a cup and saucer in one hand and a bag in the other. We gave her a welcoming smile, and somebody fetched a chair for her. Suddenly, the tea cup slipped from the saucer and fell on the floor, splashing the tea all around. We all tried to help her, but she was very embarrassed. ‘Now that’s what I call making a splash!’, said I. I realized immediately that this was an inappropriate thing to say, particularly to a lady, the wittiness and the originality of the remark notwithstanding. But it was too late to retract, and I could only feel sorry for my behaviour.

Was this an instance of my Punjabi sense of humour, or was it indicative of a different kind of tendency? We all have the hunger to do or say something original, and being witty in the bargain is something too irresistible, particularly for scientists. Was this indiscretion symptomatic of that? I don’t know.


3. MY SCHOOL DAYS

I was about two years old at the time of India’s independence and partition of Punjab. We opted to come over to the Indian side of Punjab. So ours was a ‘refugee’ family. We had lost money, house, belongings, just about everything. My father had to look for a job and start life all over again.

In due course we settled in West Delhi at Tilak Nagar, a ‘refugee colony’ started by the government for people like us. My father got an administrative job at an ITI (Industrial Training Institute). The Social Welfare Department of the GOI had opened several such institutes for giving vocational training to people. We also took possession of a house nearby, one among the many the government was constructing for the refugees. The construction work was done in such a hurry that unbaked bricks had to be used, and there were no boundary walls. The roofs were made of wooden planks covered with unbaked bricks. No electricity. No water supply. No sewage pipes. No LPG of course.

Tilak Nagar, being a refugee colony in the wilderness, had to start from scratch for everything. There were agricultural fields all around, and facilities were built up one by one. The school I joined was one such.

My mother was a strong, hard-working lady, rather like the lady of the house in Khushwant Singh’s novel ‘I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale’. She was also a no-nonsense person, quite aggressive of temperament. My father was of the tactful type, but also very strong-willed. He was very handsome, and in the pink of health.


[With my mother, sister, brother, and father.]

In spite of our poor financial condition, the greatest gift my father gave me was his unshakeable belief in my capabilities. I had no idea about the reasons behind that, but his high expectations, as also his own example of shear grit and determination, spurred me to do my best to be a worthy son. My mother also did her best to ensure that I got whatever they could afford, and more.

When I look back I find that, in spite of the fact that mine was an ordinary government school, the teaching was rather good. I have fond memories of our English teacher and the physics teacher, and also the Principal.

There is a bad memory also. Once our class, while waiting for the next teacher to arrive, was noisily discussing this and that. I was of the quiet type and used to sit in the front row. I was reading something, and was not talking to anybody. Our PT teacher, a burly Sikh, walked in and shouted at us about the noise the class was making. He also picked up two boys at random and gave them a big slap each. I was one of them. I was outraged because I was not making any noise at all. I stared at him and said ‘what have I done’? I got a further boxing of ears for this act of defiance. Such punishment for standing up for justice, and for asserting my fiercely independent nature, is something I have got again and again in my career.

School days were fun. A classmate of mine (Sohan Singh) used to boast that he could break a glass pane with the force of his urine stream! He wanted to have a bet on that, but none of us thought much of this claim.

I took my studies seriously. Children from middle-class families like mine usually tend to excel in studies because they know that if they fail to do well, there is no family business, or a rich father, to fall back on for making life livable.

I passed the Higher Secondary examination in 1961. Ours was the first batch from the school to appear in the board examinations. Four boys got first division (more than 60% marks). I was one of them. 


4. THE UNIVERSITY DAYS

Since I had scored more than 60% marks, I was able to get admission to the B. Sc. (Honours) course in the physics discipline of the University of Delhi (DU). My friend Tejbir, mentioned above, also got admission to the same course. Tilak Nagar is quite far from the Delhi University campus, so we commuted by bus. At some stage the government started a ‘University Special’ bus service from Tilak Nagar, and this was of great help. This also meant that we saw the same boys and girls every morning at the bus stop and in the bus.

After doing his B.Sc., Tejbir went to Italy. He brought home an Italian wife, something very unusual those days for people of our background. He was always reckless, and crafty too. His two brothers were in the army, and that meant that they got booze at highly discounted prices. Tejbir used to tell us how he could easily steal whisky at home, and get away with it; the trick was to replace the whisky removed from the bottle by an equal amount of water! And the brothers would complain about the poor quality of whisky sold in the defence canteen!

A craze those days was to be able to impress the girls travelling in our University Special with good spoken English. Something funny happened one day. While we were waiting for our bus, a policeman sauntered in, cane in hand. He picked up an argument with us for no apparent reason, except perhaps that he too wanted to impress the girls with the authority of his position. For good measure, he decided to speak in English. But this turned out to be his undoing. At one stage he said, ‘I have told you and I am tolding you again . . . .’. All of us burst out laughing, much to his embarrassment, although I am not sure whether he indeed understood why we were laughing.

In this incident the boy leading the arguments was, of course, Tejbir, and we had a tough time pulling him away from the law enforcer of the land. But Tejbir was like that, always of short temper, and not afraid of anybody when he knew that he was in the right. In one incident he even got physical with a policeman. I can well imagine how he must have reacted when a mob came baying for his life and that of other members of his Sikh family during the 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom supported and abetted by the Congress Party, following the assassination of Indira Gandhi. He was killed by the mob.

The teaching at the university was good. I learnt, rather early, from our Practicals-class teacher, Dr. Mela Ram Wadhawan, the importance of stating the numerical measure of any physical quantity to the correct number of significant digits, no less no more. One of our assigned experiments was to measure the value of the gravity constant. There were no calculators at our disposal those days, and we used the log tables which listed the numbers to four digits. Dr. Mela Ram asked me whether my measurement of the gravity constant was indeed that precise or accurate. When I kept quiet, he explained how to estimate errors and use this information for quoting the value of any measurement to the estimated degree of precision and/or accuracy.

One book I liked to read was Worsnop & Flint’s Advanced Practical Physics for Students. I still remember how I enjoyed reading in it about the atomic mechanism of buoyancy.

Many teachers in our Physics Department taught almost the same course year after year. We also learnt from our seniors that even the jokes these teachers told in the class were the same every year! One teacher used notes which were prepared, not by him, but by his teacher!

Apart from the main subject physics, we also had chemistry and mathematics as subsidiary subjects. We were taught organic chemistry by one Dr. T. R. Seshadry. At that time we had no idea how eminent a chemist this person was. But he did one thing which created a very poor impression on me about his level of intelligence. Some of us students were having a leisurely walk after lunch, gossiping busily about this and that. We did not notice that we had come near an exit door of the corridor and, completely unintentionally, blocked the passage for a couple of girls who wanted to go out of the building. We made way for them as soon as we noticed this. But the venerable Dr. Seshadry happened to have seen this, and took us to task for intentional harassment to girls. This was outrageous, but we poor students could do nothing to convince him that he was wrong.

On one occasion I got badly injured while returning home from the university. The DTC buses used to be very crowded in the evenings, and we often had to hang precariously from the bus entrance door, hoping that there would be some space in the bus later. I was hanging like this when the bus overtook a cart loaded with scrap iron, and I got seriously injured by the sharp and rusted iron stuff. My father decided that he would let me stay in the college hostel, no matter what the financial burden to him. I learnt later that he had to borrow substantial sums of money to see me through college. I decided that I would help him in getting rid of the debt as soon as I could.

My stay in hostel solved one problem, but created another. My rather delicate digestive system could not take for long the kind of unhygienic food and water I had to consume day after day. I was down with typhoid, from which I took rather long to recover. The university exams were approaching, and I was anxious to join classes as soon as possible. One day I ignored the doctor’s advice for more rest for complete recovery, and went to the university. The strain was too much for my already weakened system, and there was a relapse of the disease. All in all, my performance in the studies suffered greatly that year.

After doing B. Sc. (Hons), I joined in 1965 the two-year M.Sc. course, specializing in solid-state physics. This time I stayed in the Gwyer Hall Hostel, right inside the DU campus.

Our syllabus included lectures on crystallography, to be given by a very senior scientist from the National Physical Laboratory (NPL), Delhi. But he never came. The irony is that after getting my Master’s degree I started my career in a field none other than X-ray crystallography!


5. LIFE AT THE B.A.R.C. TRAINING SCHOOL (1967-1968)

After doing my M. Sc., I got selected for a job at the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC), Bombay (now called Mumbai). The entry for scientists and engineers involved (and still does) a one-year orientation course at the BARC Training School. After successful performance at the Training School, one is made a Scientific Officer, a Class 1 gazetted post in the Govt. of India.

I landed in Bombay at the Training School hostel on 15th August 1967. Till my batch (the 11th batch) the hostel was located at Land’s End, Bandra. After that it shifted to its new premises inside the BARC campus.

We had to commute to BARC every day for our classes, using a BARC bus. Life at the hostel was fun, its location being at the seashore. The location was a favourite with the people of Bombay, particularly young lovers. They came here, found a secluded spot among the rocks, and had a good time, kissing and exploring.

Some Bengalis of our batch had a bright idea. They pooled together money and bought a pair of binoculars. They took turns having a good close look at what the lovers were up to.

Apart from the subsidized accommodation, the trainees got a monthly stipend of Rs. 300. That workedout to Rs. 10 per day. The Head of Training School, Dr. Damodaran, is fondly remembered to this day by many of us for his famous statement that ‘ten rupees will be cut’ from the stipend if any of us stayed away from the classes for a day.

Our teachers were all working scientists and engineers of BARC, and there was a very good teacher-to-student ratio. Teaching by such scientists helped us get a feel for how science and technology are actually applied in real-life situations.

Sometimes even very senior scientists of the DAE came for teaching. One of them for my batch was Dr. Raja Ramanna. He taught us elements of set theory and group theory. He was a remarkable man indeed; one of the ‘bosses’ of DAE I have genuine respect for. In due course he became Chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), and much else. I have had the experience of watching at least five Chairmen of the AEC from close quarters. Dr. Ramanna’s was a towering personality; he was the Chairman among Chairmen, like the Bhisham Pitamah of Mahabharat.

The BARC Training School was where I was introduced to the basics of crystallography, as also of neutron scattering, reactor physics, nuclear physics, health physics, and much else.

6. MY SCIENTIFIC CAREER AT B.A.R.C. (1968 onwards)

On 1st August 1968 I became an employee (‘Scientific Officer’) of BARC, with a starting take-home salary of Rs. 640. My father happened to be in Bombay when I received my first pay cheque. I handed over the cheque to him, remembering what he and my mother had been through to enable me to see this day. He was very touched, and gave the cheque back to me with his blessings, his eyes moist with happiness and perhaps many other emotions. For the next few years I sent home half of my salary every month.

The Placement Committee had assigned me to the Nuclear Physics Division (NPD), headed at that time by Dr. P. K. Iyengar. In those days solid-state-physics activities were a part of the NPD, and only later was a separate Solid State Physics Division (SSPD) carved out of the NPD.

Dr. Iyengar assigned me to one of the two Sections in NPD which were engaged in crystallographic research (X-ray crystallography and neutron crystallography, respectively). My boss (X-ray crystallography) had a rather strong sense of rivalry with the boss heading the other Section, and this created problems for me (many of them of my own making).

I began by reading up books on X-ray crystallography, including those by M. J. Buerger. My boss had a small, make-shift laboratory housed in the Apsara Reactor Building, and our mandate was to determine the atomic structure of certain crystals by using X-ray diffraction. The simplest technique for growing water-soluble crystals is to make a saturated solution and just leave it somewhere in a clean environment. Since the sizes of crystals required are not very large, this works fine. I am mentioning this here for a reason. The boss had quite an assortment of beakers and Petri dishes, with solutions of various chemicals. I noticed that he seemed to have forgotten certain solutions altogether, and all the water had evaporated from them. I was intrigued by one such solid mass: The crystallization process had resulted in a huge screw-like growth, with millimetre-sized steps, and growth features extending over several centimetres. The morphology looked like a giant screw-dislocation, occupying the entire beaker. That was in 1968/69. Later, when I learnt about screw dislocations in crystals, particularly from a book by Dr. A. R. Verma, it occurred to me that perhaps I had noticed something never reported anywhere in the scientific literature on crystal growth. I tried hard to have a re-look at that growth feature, but the boss had probably thrown the beaker away. I still wonder whether this has indeed been reported in the crystal-growth literature anywhere.

I had the idealism typical of my youth, and a certain degree of recklessness. Add to that the Punjabi genes and what you have is a lethal combination (lethal for me!). Once I read a book in the BARC library about the bad effect of an inadequate boss on one’s career. There was a checklist of questions about one’s boss, and the advice was to change the boss or the job if the present boss scored 5 or less, out of 10. My boss got a poor score, so I decided to change the boss!

That was easier said than done in the prevailing situation in my government job. I damaged my career considerably by persisting with my request for a transfer to the other crystallography Section in the same Division. Little did I realize that I was upsetting the prevailing office politics seriously, and that certain things were just not done. Dr. Iyengar accepted my request eventually, but long after considerable damage had occurred to my career (bad and irresponsible Annual Confidential Reports (ACRs) by the boss I wanted to leave, and the consequent slow promotions for some years; the ACRs were secret documents in those days, and the person reported upon got no chance to defend himself, except in some extreme situations).

Dr. Iyengar was a man with a tremendous strength of character. He was rough at times, but it was easier to deal with him than with certain other bosses who had perfected the art of carrying a frozen smile on their face, irrespective of what was really going on in their minds.

An interesting situation arose when 'cold fusion' started grabbing the headlines. We looked up to our seniors at BARC for what to make of it. There was a wide spectrum of responses among them. In the beginning quite a few jumped onto the bandwagon, theorizing and even writing quick papers. Then the smart ones became ambivalent. And in due course, some of them rejected the whole thing as nonsense. What I found most unsatisfactory was that the only reason they gave for rejecting the cold-fusion data outright was that there was no explanation or theory available for how cold fusion can possibly occur. This was no way of doing science. One person who stood his ground was Dr. Iyengar. He provided full support to his protégé, Dr. M. Srinivasan (see Srinivasan & Meulenberg 2015), for carrying out his investigations on this phenomenon.

The BARC main auditorium at the Central Complex became functional at some stage, and one of the earliest symposia for which it was used was the one organized by a senior colleague, Dr. N. S. Satyamurthy. He once called me to review the arrangements in the hall. At that time the embedded microphones among the seats had not become operational. I pointed out that we should place some microphones in the aisles also, so that the participants do not have to walk too much to reach the nearest mike for asking a question or making a comment on a presentation. He said ‘Good idea’, and issued the necessary instructions. But sometimes funny situations can arise even when you least expect them. In one such symposium, people had a good lunch and came to the hall for the next session. There was a chap sitting in an aisle seat, and he fell asleep. Not only that, he started snoring. It so happened that there was a mike right next to him in the aisle, and his snoring sound got amplified, much to the amusement of everybody!

Talking about symposia, I am reminded of the superb sense of humour and very keen sense of observation of Dr. Ramanna. In the beginning the DAE annual symposium on solid-state physics used to be held jointly with the one on nuclear physics. In one such symposium the respective Secretaries for the two disciplines were Dr. Satyamurthy and Dr. M. K. Mehta, both of stocky build, and a rather jolly air about them. Dr. Ramanna watched them go to the dais every now and then for making announcements etc. When he rose to make his concluding remarks, he said, addressing the remark to the foreigners in the audience, ‘Looking at our two Secretaries here, anybody would conclude that India is a well fed country’!

I obtained my Ph. D. degree in X-ray crystallography in early 1977. The title of the thesis was ‘Crystal Structure Studies on Compounds of Pharmacological Interest’. The new compounds I investigated had been isolated from plants by people in the Bio-Organic Division of BARC, so knowing their molecular structure was of great interest to them.

One of the compounds investigated was tylophorinidine. Its heavy-atom derivative, diacetyl tylophorinidine methiodide, was used for determining the crystal structure (Wadhawan & Sikka 1976). The crystals have space-group symmetry C2, with two molecules in the asymmetric unit. This meant that I had to determine the locations of as many as 70 non-hydrogen atoms. In those days this was the largest crystal-structure-determination to date (1974), in India. This research problem required considerable effort by me because I had to work with visually estimated (and therefore of poor quality) X-ray diffraction intensity data.

After getting my Ph. D. degree I felt that I do not want to go on doing crystallography all my life, and looked around for something new to do. A conference abstract by S. C. Abraham introduced me to the new field of ferroelasticity (new from the physicist’s point of view). I was hooked to it in no time. This kind of obsession for a field of research that I develop has occurred again and again in my career, often creating problems for me. The problem created in this case was that my boss emphasized technique-oriented research, which in this case was neutron diffraction and X-ray diffraction. I revolted against this. My idea was that one should identify a good research problem first, and then apply whatever techniques it takes to attack the problem. Why should one get tied down to a technique, and then do whatever research is possible with that?

But disagreement with the boss can be very costly, particularly in a government job in India. In my case it meant then that I had to make do with whatever instruments somebody at BARC will let me use for doing my research. With ferroelasticity, since it was a new field, one thing one could do was to try to discover the ‘ferroelastic effect’ in previously unexplored materials. One simple thing I could do was to use an optical polarizing microscope and see if my crystal specimen exhibited the ferroelastic effect on application of uniaxial stress with simply a toothpick. But I did not have an optical microscope of my own. So I went to people in BARC who had the microscopes and requested them to let me use them. I found that I cannot go to the same person’s laboratory again and again, so I had to change my benefactor frequently!

I discovered ferroelasticity in a few materials, beginning with orthoboric acid (H3BO3), then BaCl2.2H2O, then some others. Once I gave a 'Physics Colloquium' lecture at BARC, describing the work I had done. At the end I thanked ‘Dr. U. R. K. Rao, Dr. S. V. K. Rao, Dr. T. R. Rao, and Dr. K. N. Rao’ for letting me use their microscopes. Yes, there were as many as four Raos to thank! My boss, responsible for my plight, was in the audience.

My resolve to pursue problem-based research, rather than technique-based research on which the big boss laid stress, made me a kind of persona non grata. I did not have access to the main journal in my field of interest, namely Ferroelectrics because the Library Committee of BARC decided against subscribing to it (the Internet was something unheard of those days, at least by me). No funds for research, no encouragement by the boss. He just let me be. Therefore, call it a good thing or bad, over the years I have developed the tendency to work in those areas of science in which there is no crowding in Indian science. I think this is what they call ‘making a virtue out of necessity’.

The more the system ignored and suppressed me, the stronger my resolve became to prove the big boss wrong and show that there is plenty of science in my system. Strange are the ways some people inspire their juniors.

In 1977 I was the only physicist in India working on ferroelasticity. This field in physics was started by Keitsiro Aizu of Japan. I read up a large number of his papers. You can imagine my plight. I was chasing a field of research in which there was nobody in India I could talk to. What is more, my obsession with ferroelasticity made me the object of ridicule by the boss and his cronies. I remember the day when I was in a meeting called by the boss. Every time I uttered the word ‘ferroelasticity’, there was a guffaw of laughter from just about everybody present there. But by chasing ferroelasticity obsessively, I ended up writing the first ever comprehensive book on the subject of ferroic materials (Wadhawan 2000) (ferroelastic materials are a subset of ferroic materials).

Later I wrote a book on smart structures (2007). On both ferroic materials and smart structures I was ahead of my times in Indian science. Nature has a way of compensating the have-nots.


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Optical ferrogyrotropy

There are three categories of ‘primary’ ferroics: ferroelectrics, ferromagnetics, and ferroelastics. In ferroelectrics there is spontaneous polarization (a first-rank polar tensor property) which can be switched to a different direction (‘orientation state’) by applying an electric field. For ferromagnetics the spontaneous property is magnetization (a first-rank axial tensor property), which can be switched by applying a magnetic field. For ferroelastics the spontaneous switchable tensor property (mechanical strain) is a second-rank POLAR tensor, and it takes an appropriately oriented uniaxial stress to switch or reorient it. I asked the question: Can there be a fourth type of primary ferroics in which the reorientable property is a second-rank AXIAL tensor? The answer turned out to be a qualified ‘yes’. Optical gyrotropy, which arises from the first-order spatial dispersion of the dielectric-permittivity tensor, is such a property, and I gave the name ‘optical ferrogyrotropy’ to the phenomenon in which the spontaneous optical gyrotropy tensor of a crystal has two or more equivalent orientation states accessible to it, and one can switch it from one such state to another by applying a suitable force field (Wadhawan 1979, 1982, 2000).

I also showed that optical ferrogyrotropy is only an ‘implicit’ form of ferroicity. What this means is that ferrogyrotropic state shifts, though very much a reality, cannot be mediated by the gyrotropic tensor property. They can only be effected through an accompanying, explicitly ferroic, property tensor. For example, a ferrogyrotropic state shift may occur as a phenomenon concomitant with a ferroelastic state shift or a ferroelectric state shift, etc. (if symmetry considerations permit that).

I have been mentioning ‘orientation states’ above. A ferroic material always has two or more equivalent orientation states, which are a relic of a ‘ferroic phase transition’ in it, a transition which necessarily breaks the point-group symmetry of the crystal (Wadhawan 2000). The phase transition is taken as occurring from a certain 'prototype' symmetry.  There is a group-subgroup relationship between the prototype (point-group) symmetry and the ferroic-phase symmetry. Each such distinct pair of point-group symmetries defines a 'ferroic species'.

Work on gyrotropy, or rather ferrogyrotropy, brought me in contact with the great group-theory expert Kopsky, whom I was to meet much later during my one-month stay in Czechoslovakia, and he has been a good friend since then. He was probably one of the two referees of my paper 'Gyrotropy: An Implicit Form of Ferroicity' (Wadhawan 1979). In fact, unknown to me, his group had also published at about the same time an extensive analysis of gyrotropy in the context of ferroic phase transitions (Konak, Kopsky & Smutny 1978). They had derived and listed the possible ferroic species of 'pure' gyrotropics resulting from nongyrotropic prototype phases. Independently of them, I had also identified a similar list by inspection from an exhaustive table of ferroic species published by Aizu (1970). I pointed out in my paper that my list of 18 such species included some which were missing in the work of Konak et al. (1978). Kopsky wrote to me, explaining why his list was smaller. So I agreed to include a 'note added in proof' in my paper which read as follows: 'In a personal communication Dr. Kopsky points out that Table 1 of Konak, Kopsky & Smutny (1978) gives only those pure gyrotropic species which involve equitranslational phase transitions associated with a single transition parameter. Thus the scope of their Table 1 is more limited than mine. The 18 species listed in the present paper exhaust all possible pure gyrotropic non-magnetic species'.
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As a digression, I should explain here the organizational structure at BARC. The largest subunits of BARC are the Groups, with each of them headed by a Group Director, who reports to Director BARC. An example is the Physics Group, headed at that time (1977) by Dr. Iyengar. Under each Group are the various Divisions (e.g. the NPD), and a Division may have one or more Sections.

Crystallographers around the world are a well-organized community. There is an over-arching International Union of Crystallography (IUCr), and then there are National Committees on Crystallography in many countries. The IUCr holds a huge Congress every four years. In 1978 it was held at Warsaw in what was then Czechoslovakia.

I had published a significant paper on my discovery of the ferroelastic effect in orthoboric acid crystals (Wadhawan 1978), and I sent an abstract of this work to the IUCr Congress. My application for financial support was duly forwarded by my office to the funding agency (DST) at Delhi. At some stage I was told by my senior that my paper has been shortlisted for financial support, and that it was at the top of the list, purely on merit. The next thing I learnt was that I shall not be getting any financial assistance for travel, clearly because of the manipulations quite common in government circles. Dr. Iyengar was not pleased by these developments, and immediately sanctioned my travel expenses. He also wrote to a scientist friend of his at Warsaw to arrange for meeting all my local expenses.

I made a poster presentation at the Warsaw Meeting. This was my first visit abroad.


[With Prof. Gopinath Kartha and one other scientist, at the IUCr Congress, Warsaw (1978).]

At the Warsaw Congress I met Mike Glazer for the first time. I told him that I was looking for a post-doctoral position at his Clarendon Laboratory. He agreed, so long as some funding agency supported my tenure. I applied for and won the Nuffield Foundation Travelling Fellowship for a period of one year. I landed at Oxford in mid-1979, and my family joined me a few months later.

[Continued in Part 2. The references cited are listed at the end of Part 3.]