The electronics laboratory sessions at the engineering college were eventful. A motley set of equipment lay scattered on the table — a breadboard, a display screen, a clump of wires and colourful beads comprising resistors, transistors and capacitors. The objective was simple: to follow a set of instructions, create an electronic circuit on the breadboard and read the resultant output waveform on the display screen. The breadboard had tiny holes into which you inserted the resistors and capacitors and connected them up with wires.
It would be unnerving especially if you were doing it for the first time. You had to contend with multiple challenges — instructions that were unclear, the pressure of time and the overbearing presence of the professor who looked out for the slightest error to give you an earful! It was often an exercise in futility, and there were days when the experiments completely failed despite your best efforts. Still, you soldiered on.
If you managed to get the desired output waveform and successfully completed the lab work, it was deemed a miracle.
The miracle
One afternoon, a miracle did happen. The display screen suddenly sprang to life, and registered this most beautiful waveform. It was a sight to behold — a rainbow of sorts for our thirsty eyes!
We were a team of three and had struggled through the entire afternoon putting the pieces of the circuit together until the breadboard resembled a wild jungle... with wires hanging all over!
We impatiently waited until the professor was at the table to evaluate our artwork. It was our crowning glory moment. The professor’s expression was inscrutable — he looked at the waveform with interest and then looked at each of us with equal interest. He carefully removed one of the resistors from the breadboard, reaching out for it between the wild undergrowth of wires. “Watch, my dears; the waveform output is still intact!” Our response was muted. “Yes, sir,” we mumbled. In such a complicated circuitry, there could be some scope for redundancy, where the loss of a body part need not affect the overall health, or so we thought.
What happened from this point on was nothing short of dramatic. The professor did quick work: he removed a capacitor here, a resistor there and uprooted wires by the handful. Like dead pieces outside a chessboard, there was a now a growing heap of deadwood piling up outside the breadboard. “My dears, your waveform is still intact!”
We knew something was wrong. Soon, the professor plunged his entire fist into the breadboard and exhumed whatever came in his grasp and exclaimed, “My dears, your waveform has still not changed!” Eventually, in a manic rage, he had emptied the entire breadboard of all its components. The waveform still smiled back at us, unaffected. The rest of the afternoon was not pleasant. The professor asked for the lab record-books and scrawled, “repeat the experiment” in red across the entire page. He was evidently angry.
The above incident is actually several decades old. To this day, I am baffled how the waveform output could be so precise especially when the breadboard was emptied out. There are plausible explanations, no doubt, of the circuit being ‘shorted’ or the display wires possibly connected back-to-back. I do not know. However, I do know this incident has taught some valuable lessons for life.
Often we wonder about our contribution to this world, our role in the scheme of things and how it will shape the future. As the years roll by, these larger-than-life questions nag us. We worry that if by a quirk of fate, we move on today, would we have done enough for the future, for the family, for society so that they are better off, just that little bit, because we lived. But there are no easy answers.
It is here that the breadboard and the waveform come to our rescue. The waveform did not require the elaborate circuitry on the breadboard at all. So too with life. The cosmic laws will take care of the future on their own. In front of these mighty laws of time, space and causation, my puny existence and contribution amounts to nothing. Hence, I need not worry about the future. The future will unfold on its own, regardless of me. This attitude frees me from unnecessarily carrying a load that I need not!
If that is the case, do I need to struggle with the breadboard at all? Do I need to wire those elaborate connections? Can I simply eject out of the whole framework if anyway my contribution amounts to nothing?
No, I do need to wrestle with the breadboard and arrange those resistors and wires to the best of my ability. If I look back, those electronics laboratory sessions were important. We experienced the whole gamut of emotions — of elation and dejection, ear and futility (often on the same day). The tapestry of emotions made our lives richer. Without them, our lives would have been boring and hollow. The diligence, the teamwork, the common goal and the shared emotion... everything was essential and helped us emerge stronger and wiser. In the process, we had a lot of fun. So too with life. I am placed today in a particular role, to wire up some circuit on some breadboard.
The outcome just does not matter. I only have to be busy in the process of wiring the breadboard as diligently as I can. That alone is my lot. Ours is not to question why. Ours is but to do and die! Therefore, we keep doing, like the busybee... with a heart for any fate. Still achieving, still pursuing, we learn to labour and to wait!
shankar.ccpp@gmail.com