Chapter 13: Recurring Episodes

In fall 2008, a professor in our department gives a talk on Question Theory in a Friday colloquium. Question theory is useful in artificial intelligent, for machines to ask relevant questions. Questions are essential to request information. In 1978, Richard T. Cox defined a question as the system of assertions that answer it. The professor says something new that question and negation are identical. He explains it with an example that ‘Is it raining?’ or ‘Is it not raining?’ asks the same thing. In both cases the answer is ‘It is raining,’ or ‘It is not raining.’

This professor has modeled his question theory on order theory. I notice that the theory can be generalized if it is based on topology, in which case a question and its negation would no longer be identical. Since the semester is in progress, I wait for the winter break to develop my model. One hardly has time for research when taking courses and has TA-ship duties.

As the winter break arrives, I start working on my idea. I require that questions must appear in the form of objective type. Like a questionnaire. This questionnaire must form a topology. Topology is a collection of the subsets of a set that consists of the set itself; empty set; and the union and intersection of the members in the collection. My model shows that a question and its negation are nonidentical.

The night I solve the problem, I become so excited that I cannot wait for the next day to discuss it with my advisor. I know he will appreciate it. Next day, I realize that he may not be in office for the holidays. All of sudden it comes to mind to call him. I have his home phone number. So, I call him. The call is directed to answering machine. As I start to record my message, someone attends the call.

“Hey Shahid, what’s the problem.” My professor on the other end says.

“I want to discuss with you my new findings. I have derived a master equation from which I can derive Einstein Field Equations and much more.” I say in excitement. In physics, if you can derive existing theories from your theory, it means your theory is more general.

“Sure, let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll be in office.”

“It would be nice if you could come to my place. I’m just so excited. It would be very nice of you if you could come our place.” I unhesitatingly demand like we are friends.

He is also nice and says, “No problem. I’ll probably be there about 2:30 or 3. Please, text me your address.”

Since he’s coming, I start editing my paper in urgency. I type my paper in LaTex, a typeset best for documents involving mathematical equations. In the middle of the paper, I also write dialogues that may nothing to with the draft. I write, “He proposed her. Her answer was NOT-YES, NOT-NO. He was insane, talking to himself and speaking much loudly, ‘NOT-NOT-NOT-NO,’ and then said a little slowly, ‘and yet NOT-YES.’” I do not call it a dialogue but a monologue. A monologue is what Mr. Monologue – the character I created in 2003 – says. I have a separate diary in which I note monologues. One may call it a quotation, but I call it a monologue. In the diary, I also define a monologue. A monologue is one’s own created language that she or he can better understand. Her thoughts could be mixed. She may know several languages in which she expresses her feelings. If she runs out of words, she draws images, even dances. It is a jargon that is produced spontaneously. It may be a jargon for a reader; it is collection of separable realities for the creator.

Next day in the afternoon, my phone rings.

“Shahid, I think I’m outside your house.” My advisor says.

“Please, do not park in the street. You may park it in our driveway. I’m coming downstairs.” We have two parking lots in our driveway: one for us and one for our downstairs neighbor. Since I do not have a car, my friends park there when they visit me.

Upstairs he says, “I can imagine how tough it is to be a graduate student.” He looks up. Our apartment reminds him his own days as a graduate student.

Our apartment may be small, but I like its living room. The living room is like a pentagon. Windows are one each side. A Montessori school – which is from across the street – can be seen from the window. Inside in one corner is a study table. We use the same table for dinner. In the other corner is television. A twin-size mattress is placed where supposed to be couch. We have no couch. Ayisha or I sleep in the living room. Since I snore, we do not sleep together. Initially I slept outside, but my wife didn’t feel good about it like she kicked me out of the room, and so we switched.

“Hi.” Ayisha says to my advisor shaking hand with him.

“I know Muslim women do not shake hand with men.” My professor says to her.

“Well, we are not that kind of Muslims.” She says.

“Please, come here.” I offer him to sit. In excitement, I motion to show him my monologues diary first. I show him the newest one which I noted three days ago on January 11, 2009. It says, ‘This work is done in six days and the seventh day is for rest.’ I call it a joke refers to the creation of the universe by God. In fact, I finished this paper in six days and on the seventh day I did nothing. The next one below it – same date – is ‘You are my problem and I’m your problem.’

“Why not get to the paper.” He says. I think my monologues confused him.

“Yes please.” I give him the paper.

He leans on the chair and reads it. He says,“I don’t understand it. Why not you explain it.”

“Sorry professor. I didn’t formally write the paper. It only includes the calculation. Let me explain what I’ve actually done. My work concerns question theory. I have shown that a question and the negation question are not equivalent.”

“How so?”

“Please, have this.” Ayisha interjects. “I’ve made pakora. I don’t know if you like it. I made it less spicy.” She’s also pregnant. We’re expecting our first baby after five years of marriage.

“I like Pakistani food. It’s good. Thank you.” The professor takes a bite from the pakora.

I continue, “Let me explain my claim with an example. Take one situation. A person enters in to a building. He is wet. Another person in the building – who is not aware that it is raining – asks in surprise, “Is it raining?” In another situation, one person enters a building. This person is dry. Another person – who knew that it was pouring a little earlier – unbelievably asks, “Is it not raining?” People ask questions according to their desires.”

“It means you’re quantifying desires. Your idea looks bigger than a Ph.D. project. If you want to work with me, you have to choose a topic I can supervise.”

“It’s OK. I’ll work on whatever project you give me. And thank you for coming. Also, I’m very intimidated, why I bother you. Perhaps it is the result of my illness I didn’t tell about.” “In 2003, I was diagnosed with …” I tell him about my illness. When I speak of my sickness, I do not say five years ago or ten years; but I say that it happened in 2003. I remember it by the year. August 2003 exactly.

“Do you see a doctor.”

“Yes, I go to Health Center.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I have a good understanding of my problem. It is not that severe as it was back in 2003. Perhaps my idea has excited me. I’ve not slept enough for the last several days.”

“Take a break from the paper. There is no rush. You have time for research. And keep me posted if there is any problem.”

“Sure I’ll.”

Two days later, I have a nervous breakdown. I write a long email to my advisor. I write:

… I’m not the only person in the world who did this work. I’ve an opinion that in the past there were some brilliant people who came up with much more beautiful results than mine. I’m convinced that they might have first destroyed their findings and then killed themselves, for they knew their work might lead to wars.

If you do not reply to me positively, I would prefer to first destroy my findings, damage my computer and then kill myself.

I’m stable when I’m writing this email.

So please do something, my wife and my friends love me a lot. Please, try to avoid anything bad to happen.

Today (Friday), I’ll see my doctor in Health Center at 10 a.m. and then I’ll come home.

I say that I’m stable; actually, I’m not. A full-blown mania retuned last night. I was in the room. Ayisha was sleeping on the floor in the living room. For about three weeks of insomnia, I fell asleep. I was in bed. This queen-size bed can only be placed along one of the walls. If it is set along the opposite wall, it would block the door; and it can also be not put across, as it would not fit. Ayisha likes periodic change in the house. The bed – which is only a mattress on a box without a frame – can only be sled along to make room for a dresser. In the current position, the dresser is along the wall that has the door.

I was lying straight in the bed looking at the door. Two pillows under my nick and the door partially open. Ayisha checked on me. Ayisha only knew about my illness after our marriage. On the second day when I came from my psychiatrist in Peshawar, I first told her about my love affair in Quaid-i-Azam University and then about the illness. Her only question was that why her family was not informed.

Light was on and my eye also open. If I closed anything, my eyes or light. I see images. While awake, I started snoring. Literarily, my eyes were wide open but sleeping. The snoring stopped shortly, and I woke up. It was a brief but very deep sleep. I was so fresh like I slept for the whole night. I was scare. While my eyes were still open, I saw an image of Irfan, my secular friend in Jamrud. He was wearing a brown qameez and white shalwar and was standing sideway in air on my feet side. He then turned around and showed middle finger to me. I rapidly blinked my eyes and the image disappeared. Then I saw Prophets Muhammad, Jesus and Muses. Muhammad sitting, Jesus standing, and Muses lying. They were not separated by distance but by time. It was a time travel. They were quietly laughing at me. When I paid attention, it was one and only one person. This one person – who was lying – sat and then stood. He uttered, “What you think you are the only person. Many other like you also existed. They flew and took fire. Not only them but the whole universe took fire. Do not commit suicide. Do not destroy the world. What you think dear Lord created the cosmos. Never. Lord is dead. Dead but he hears. You also experienced it. You forgot 2003. You believed that you were dead. You were hearing everything. The universe is made from the ashes of dear Lord. You would inquire how he died. He loved to be loved. Appreciation made him stronger. One day he became so powerful that He flew and burned. Appreciation killed Him. You see the ashes now?”

One would call it a manic attack; it was actually a spiritual attack.

In the early morning, I called Ayisha to pull my her. She didn’t; instead, she brought ice and put it on my forehead. I asked her to put away all my calculations and also the computer. By now I have a thick folder of calculations and monologues – missed forest for trees.

In the evening, my advisor sends Daud – who already knew my problem back from QAU – to check on me. He tells me that I should not say that I’ll commit suicide. It is a serious matter. Next day my advisor changes my TA-ship duties. We talk on phone,  he in department. I make the call telling him that it would not be safe to teach labs. I may misbehave with professors or students; I have 2003 in mind. I do not want repeat anything. He changes my TA-ship responsibilities and instead takes me as a TA assistant with himself. This is something I can do from home, to grade the tests.