The Return of Vaman - A Scientific Novel

by Jayant V. Narlikar

  This is my reason for writing science fiction, which, of course, may not be the motive for another writer of this genre. I would like to give some examples from my writings but before I do so, let me describe how I got into this field.

  My Maiden Attempt

  Having read The Black Cloud and some other science fiction novels I felt the urge to write a science fiction story myself. The opportunity came in 1974, two years after my return to India to join the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research (TIFR) in Mumbai. I felt that if I were to write a science fiction story, I should do so in my mother tongue Marathi. There is a vast collection of science fiction in English, mostly set in a foreign (Western) environment, and my writing yet another one would be like adding a drop to the ocean. On the other hand this genre was very rarely handled in Marathi and in a local environment, so there was a chance that the impact of a purely Marathi story would be more noticeable. While I was hesitating over this, an opportunity presented itself.

  Every year, the NGO from Mumbai called Marathi Vijnan Parishad (MVP) which promotes scientific activities in the Marathi language conducts a short story competition focusing on science fiction. The assigned word limit is 2000, and the story has to be original. The top story, as judged by a panel of referees, is awarded a modest cash prize in a special ceremony during the Annual Convention of the MVP. When the call for stories for 1974 was announced, I decided to enter the competition.

  I remember in October 1974, I happened to attend an astrophysics conference at the Physical Research Laboratory in Ahmedabad. While listening to a particularly uninspiring lecture, I was afraid that I might drop off to sleep, when the idea came to mind…why not start writing the story now? I had the conference writing pad with me and already had some ideas on the plot of the story. As I wrote, the words came naturally and there were very few pauses. The speaker, in case he looked in my direction, might have been flattered by the (mistaken) impression that I was feverishly taking down notes from his lecture! Anyway, nearly a third of the story was written up in that initial spurt of writing.

  In due course, I completed it and entitled it “Krishna Vivar” (Black hole). The idea, let alone the name, ‘black hole’ had not yet caught on in India. I used the concept of clocks going slow near the black hole horizon. This being my first attempt at story writing, I was not confident of success. However, I needed to take two precautions when submitting my story to the MVP.

  Those were the days before word processors became common. Even typewriters using Marathi were not very common, Thus, the entries for such competitions were usually in the handwriting of the authors. It was likely that my handwriting would be recognized by the MVP officials since on several occasions in the past I had corresponded with the organization. So I not only adopted a different name but also submitted the story in my wife’s (Mangala’s) handwriting. I chose the fictitious name “Narayan Vinayak Jagtap” whose initials NVJ were the reverse of mine, JVN. The correspondence was carried out under the address of the TIFR.

  Thus I submitted my story giving no hint of my real identity, so as to avoid any possibility of the MVP figuring out Jagtap’s real identity.

  In due course the results were announced and it so happened that the science fiction story “Krishna Vivar” was declared the best story. As its author, Narayan Vinayak Jagtap was invited to attend the forthcoming annual convention of the MVP and receive the prize of a hundred rupees from the hands of the President of the Parishad.

  It was then that I chose to reveal Jagtap’s true identity, while requesting the award money to be given to some charity. My clandestine attempt for the prize was greatly appreciated by the MVP as well as the intelligentsia in Maharashtra (the state whose official language is Marathi). Many people felt that my participation would raise the status of the competition, encouraging many more to participate in the future events.

  But that was not the end of the story! Shortly afterwards the annual gathering of literary big shots in Marathi took place in the town of Karad, and in her opening address, the President Durgabai Bhagvat, a distinguished author and critic, made a reference to my story, welcoming its appearance with the hope that the genre of science fiction would bring an additional dimension to Marathi literature. Known for her very critical views, this was high praise indeed and boosted my morale no end! Many literary experts felt that Durgabai’s endorsement would promote the popularity of science fiction, not only with readers but also with writers.

  For me one positive aspect was that one famous literary journal of Maharashtra, called Kirloskar, invited me to contribute science fiction stories as and when I wrote them. The editor Mukundrao Kirloskar commanded great respect for his literary acumen. Certainly his backing was a great tonic to the budding literary genre. Thanks to his encouragement I felt courageous enough to venture further into the field of science fiction.

  My first story published by Kirloskar was on Ganesha with the trunk turned to the right. Ganesha is the name given to an idol with the head of an elephant on a human body. As usual, Hindu mythology had an interesting tale about the genesis of this combination. Initially, Ganesha had an all human body created by Parvati, the goddess wife of Shiva. Parvati appointed her creation as a guard outside her cave wherein she was enjoying a bath under a natural waterfall. Ganesha’s duty was to stop any intruder from disturbing his mother while she was having her bath. Her orders did not single out any exception to this rule, and they therefore applied to Shiva himself. Perhaps he was not expected during the bath time. But he did show up and, as per his mother’s orders, Ganesha stopped Shiva from entering. Shiva did not know that this boy had been created by Parvati and was only doing his duty according to her orders. Likewise Ganesha did not know that Shiva was in loco parentis to him. This lack of information led to a fight in which Shiva beheaded Ganesha. At this point Parvati came out, having finished her bath. She was aghast at what Shiva had done and Shiva too was contrite having learnt the story behind Ganesha’s creation. To pacify Parvati he promised to revive the dead boy. But his head could not be found and the only substitute Shiva could lay his hands on was an elephant’s head. He promptly set it on the body of Ganesha and revived him.

  This was the story of how Ganesha came into being. All the lore associated with him has endeared him to the masses and he is the most popular deity to be approached for success when setting out on a new venture, or again when seeking help and protection for some family function. Typically his idol shows him in a benign mood with his trunk turned to the left, that is, on the side of the heart. There are rare idols where his trunk is turned to the right. Usually, but not always, this version shows Ganesha in an angry or aggressive mood, while an idol with a benign mood but trunk to the right is supposed to be rare. I have described this background in some detail here, in case a reader unfamiliar with Hindu mythology reads the story.

  Likewise, for the reader unfamiliar with the notion of symmetry in fundamental physics I may add the following note. Suppose we observe a phenomenon in a room, like the dropping of a plate from a table. If there is a mirror in the room placed so that we can see the phenomenon reflected in it, the mirror image will show the same phenomenon. However, if we similarly watch a book fall from the table, we will see the same phenomenon but with a difference. The title of the book seen on the front cover will be reflected in the mirror view. In an English title, letters like A, H, M, etc., are unchanged while letters like B, C, N, etc will appear in an unfamiliar form. At the subatomic level, in general, particles like the electron and the proton have mirror counterparts which are also found in nature. Had this been true for all such particles, we would have said that they form a distribution which is left-right symmetric. However, there are particles called neutrinos that are always found to spin in an anticlockwise direction. Their mirror counterparts spinning in a clockwise direction are never found in nature. This result is often stated by saying that “the universe is not left-right symmetric.” Or in a more dramatic form that “God is left-handed�
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  But, if we are dealing with macroscopic objects like the idol of Ganesha, we will find that its mirror counterpart can exist in nature and the story describes how one can be transformed into the other. One uses the idea of a Mobius strip which effectively transforms a flat (two dimensional) figure into its mirror counterpart. Can the same be done in higher dimensions? In a popular science book the scientist George Gamow argued that this could happen if the space in the universe had a twist! A left shoe sent round such a space would come back as a right shoe. The idea is intriguing and there are extensions of Einstein’s general relativity in which swarms of coherently spinning particles can produce twists in space. The story tells the consequences of having a machine that produces such a twist in a limited region. An object going round a region like this would be transformed into its mirror image!

  I will not go into the details of the story, but will just say that the plot was appreciated by Indian readers.

  Vaman and Other Novels

  Perhaps this is the right place to recall my second science fiction novel The Return of Vaman. It is generally assumed that a science fiction story must have an extra-terrestrial character. Nothing can be farther from the truth. H.G. Wells wrote about the Invisible man in a purely terrestrial context. Jules Verne in Round the World in Eighty Days or in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea confined himself to the terra firma. The extra-terrestrial setting with aliens and their strange devices gives a greater scope to the writer’s imagination; but the more limited setting on the Earth has the advantage that the reader can more readily identify himself with what is going on in the story.

  It was partly with that view that I wrote the Return of Vaman, my second science fiction novel. The trigger for this novel was an underground gravity experiment that had been set up in Gauribidnur near Bangalore. The description of the plot is again superfluous for the reader who has read the novel already, or a spoil-fun if he has not. But again, for those new to Hindu mythology, an explanation of the origin of the name Vaman may be necessary. Vaman was one of the many incarnations of Vishnu (the God who protects the universe). He was created to rid the Earth of a demon King Bali who ruled the underground world of Patal. The reader needs to know that the surface of the Earth accommodating man and other living beings had the heavens (abode of the various gods, ruled by King Indra) on top and the Patal (abode of demons, ruled by King Bali) below. Although Bali was well behaved, he was seen as a threat to the two upper tiers and a plot was hatched to get rid of him. Thus Vaman, a dwarf, was deputed to the mission.

  Bali had been giving away a lot of his wealth in a holy sacrifice and Vaman turned up to seek alms. Since he never turned away anybody who wanted alms, Bali asked Vaman what he could do for him. Vaman asked for just the space covered by three of his paces. How much ground would a dwarf thus cover, thought Bali, and readily agreed to donate that much land. Thereupon Vaman grew and grew until three of his paces covered all that Bali possessed, and finally he was buried underground by Vaman’s final step. In short, what was seen as a diminutive and charming figure turned itself into a very dangerous threat to Bali and his kingdom.

  This mythological history may help the reader appreciate why the name of Vaman comes into the science fiction novel. The robotic Vaman starts off as a loveable figure, always ready to help. But would he continue that way? This question is answered in the final denouement of the novel.

  My first novel was The Message from Aristarchus, with a story based on the SETI programme. The plot centres around a radio astronomer who manages to send out a coded message in a signal from a telescope strictly dedicated to the defense programme. His action leads to a whole range of consequences, including aliens acting in response. The novel runs through its menu of messaging, romance and suspense and ends on a question mark designed to haunt the reader about what the future might bring.

  Virus was my third novel. Although based on the Earth, it has an extraterrestrial component which becomes apparent in the final climax. It was inspired by the Giant Metrewave Radio Telescope (GMRT) which was under construction near Pune at the time it was being written. It describes scientists and their politics against the background of the large telescope. Again, it would be a give-away to describe how the novel ends.

  During the 1990s I was approached by the Sahitya Akademi (the leading national literary body) to write a novelette for teenagers. I expanded my short story into a novel entitled A Cosmic Explosion, which I refer to later in this essay. Around the year 2000–2001, I wrote a novel in Marathi which I hope to translate into English myself. In Marathi it is called Abhayaranya, meaning ‘sanctuary’. The basic idea here is that our Earth-based life is under scrutiny by advanced and benign extraterrestrials who treat it as a sanctuary for evolving life. Occasionally, they may interfere at some crucial juncture, usually guiding an exceptionally imaginative human being to some new discovery that helps in the evolutionary progress of the civilization. They might also intervene more drastically if we on this planet contrived to put ourselves under a threat of total annihilation.

  I will now move on to my method for appraising a science fiction story…in short, I shall describe what I call good science fiction and what I single out as bad science fiction.

  Good Science Fiction

  Before coming to my way of assessing whether a particular science fiction story is good or bad, I must recall a memorable episode in 1964. I was then visiting Caltech for a semester and Fred Hoyle, my research guide, was also spending some time there. While I recall that visit for various important happenings, the one I need to emphasize here relates to a debate that took place in Caltech’s Beckmann Auditorium.

  That evening the Beckmann was overflowing with student and faculty. Hardly surprising, because the occasion was a debate on the topic: The Message of Science Fiction: Prophetic or Profane? The debaters were two provocative minds: Fred Hoyle who occasionally wrote science fiction stories or novels but was a distinguished astrophysicist, and Ray Bradbury, a very well known author of science fiction. While these scholars examined the existing literature for good or bad science fiction, perhaps the most pertinent point was made by Ray Bradbury. He observed that, for a person like himself who was born around the time of World War I, the four to five decades of his life were littered with cases of science fiction becoming reality. For, at the time of his birth, the concept of an atom bomb existed only in imagination, and so far as sending man to the Moon was concerned, there had been no real expeditions, only the science fiction of Jules Verne. And there were plenty of other ideas that would later become realities, like computers, antibiotics, guided missiles, and the list goes on.

  In short, many ideas that were considered esoteric and way ahead of reality were actually realized during those four to five decades. Perhaps here is a clue that tells us what “good” science fiction is like: it anticipates the advances of science. Despite the gap between perception of future science and reality, good science fiction anticipates the former. It has been commented by many, for example, that Jules Verne’s description of travel to the Moon comes uncannily close to what actually happened with Apollo 11.

  The ability to predict what will happen in science and technology in the years to come may well be an attribute of good science fiction. In this role the writing may predict some harmful side-effects of a technology already existing today. Or, on a more positive note, it may indicate a possible future technology that will help solve today’s problem.

  In a technical article written in 1945, the distinguished science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke wrote about the possibility of geostationary satellites. These are satellites orbiting the Earth at a height of around 40,000 km, where their orbital period matches the Earth’s period of rotation around its North-South axis. Such a satellite will appear stationary when viewed from a fixed point on the Earth’s surface and can be used to provide information services like fax, email, TV programmes, etc. Such satellites can also conduct country-wide classroom programmes that provide
education to remote or inaccessible locations.

  I am not sure that all science fiction writers would share one of my reasons for using this genre: that is, to promote the way science can benefit society. As this is meant to be a personal account, I would like to share some examples of my stories with the reader. In The Comet, the main character is Dutta, a grandfatherly figure who happens to be an amateur astronomer. His longstanding wish to discover a new comet is finally realized when he does indeed find one and it is named after him. However, Comet Dutta turns out to be heading dangerously close to the Earth. When scientists discover this likely catastrophe, they hold meetings to carry out detailed studies of the comet, finally reconfirming the likelihood of a collision with the Earth. Can it be avoided? The scientists debate, discuss and finally converge upon a strategy to prevent the collision. Although the discoverer Dutta himself had not progressed beyond high school mathematics, he was appreciative of what the scientists were trying to do. The scientists also grew attached to this unassuming but highly practical person and kept him a part of their secret mission to waylay the comet.

  The mission had to be secret because of the likely panic that would spread rapidly if it were known that a comet was to strike the Earth. In India, known for many old superstitions, there was already unease at the knowledge that an Indian had been the discoverer of the Comet Dutta. Indeed his family, relations and neighbours wanted Dutta to conduct some yajna (holy sacrifice) to counter the ill effects the comet would bring. This he flatly refused to do, himself being a wholly rational human being. And he was aghast to discover that, given his refusal, his grandson was made to conduct all the rituals! The priests had argued that, instead of Dutta, any descendent of his would do for the rituals to be conducted. Dutta’s wife was a traditionalist who was easily carried along by such arguments.