Mathematical Beauty
Do you believe in the theories that equate mathematics and beauty? Why or why not? What are the implications of your judgement?
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Cliché, yes; but it has never been more true. Beauty, even today, is purely subjective and interpretations vary vastly from person to person, region to region, and era to era. The Taj Mahal, truly one of the most exquisite pieces of architectural ingenuity in the history of the world is considered "beautiful" by tourists who come flocking to the city of Agra to catch a glimpse of this magnificent phenomenon, and yet this beauty evokes a sense of dejection and mournfulness to those who know its deep-rooted history where it should have brought good-humoured feelings and reminiscences. Mathematics, in its truest form, is a very elaborate yet accurate description of a precise set of rules and regulations that objects around us adhere to. An "elegant theorem" is thus neither too far off nor too abstract to perceive and comprehend. There can be universally "sexy" derivations or hypotheses (Riemann’s and l'Hôpital's), and at the same time nasty-looking fractals too. This quantification of beauty in mathematics is, for the most part, unambiguously agreed upon within the scientific community, although its necessitation is suspicious. What then is to be said about the popular theories that inadvertently equate mathematics and beauty? The golden ratio, I assert, is a fluke of kinds where one mistakenly twists the very definitions of beauty and mathematics. One runs into a steep slippery slope of sorts when making such an all-encompassing claim. All beautiful people may indeed follow the golden ratio, just as the seemingly random beauty of our palms follow rigid patterns; however, not all people who follow the golden ratio are beautiful. And of course, people whose android ratios aren’t golden can be beautiful too.
In making this judgement, I imply that 'mathematical beauty' and 'beauty beauty' are neither interconnected nor symbiotic. Facial beauty, for instance, does not follow any established norms. Mere measurements, ratios and calculations aren't capable of affirming an object’s or person’s beauty. To sum it all up in an aphorism: math can be beauty, but beauty not math. If it were, we would be facing the unfortunate consequence of having to consider people with triangular- or hexagonal-shaped faces "beautiful".
Digamma San Qoppa Sampi
"Digamma San Qoppa Sampi," mumbled the village priest in a furious attempt to rekindle the spirits of Lord Shiva.
He had already tenured over a decade at the local temple. Even still, his passion for his task, his dedication to his religion and his compassion for his people never abated one bit. He was charismatic, sympathetic, kind, polite, gentle and all those lovely positive adjectives you could come up with in your spare time. But the problem was that he had no family. He had no one to live for except his religion. The goodness resulting from his daily chantings were to his benefit and his only. When asked about it, he muttered, in his characteristic monotone: "I was born a bachelor, I shall die a bachelor."
But what this priest knew, nobody knew. He had the entire Bhagavad Gita at his finger tips. That was his graduate thesis. People proclaimed him the all knowing, the supreme, the one and only knowledgeable prodigy. That was his reputation. He knew everything — the mantras, the kamas, the sutras, the lords, the devils, their past, their present, future, you name it. He knew everything. Those were his publications. Not one bit would stand unknown. Furthermore, his ability to predict the stars was unfathomable. Astrology was second nature to him. When you asked him to foresee your fate, he would ask, in return, to see not your palm, but the inside of your shirt pocket. That was his eccentricity. He expanded astrology to the realm of human behavior, psychology and cognition. Those were his scientific inventions and discoveries. He knew so much. Often too much. Maybe that's why he couldn't understand the concept of an unknown variable x in algebra.
I used to think his bachelorhood had rendered him a riddle. When he died, not one soul wept.
That was his PhD.
