blog@Yantrajaal

May 28, 2025

May 27, 2025

It was the summer of 1979 -- perhaps May or June -- when the phone rang at Renu Villa. Back then, it was a big black landline phone with a rotary dial from Calcutta Telephones, because BSNL didn’t exist yet and cellphones were still firmly ensconced in science fiction novels. We were a dozen people living together in one large, semi-joint family, and there was one phone for all of us -- a privilege in those days, since not many homes had a phone at all. Ours sat on its own special marble table on the first floor, while I lived with my parents on the second. A buzzer, installed by my enterprising father and operated by one of my aunts, summoned me downstairs. I was told that Fr Hincq, SJ, from St. Xavier's, was calling for me.

Fr Hincq was the Principal -- or perhaps the Headmaster? -- of the St. Xavier's Higher Secondary Institution, which was sandwiched both physically and metaphorically between St. Xavier's College and the Collegiate School, from which I had passed my ICSE just a year earlier. He had been especially kind to me ever since he learned that I had been called for the NCERT National Talent Scholarship interview. This stood in sharp contrast to the more well-known Fr Bouche, the famous prefect of SXCS, who had brusquely denied me the annual prize in my final year, simply because I would be away on a family tour of Gujarat. That decision had stung -- I had won a prize every other year -- but Fr Hincq went out of his way to welcome me. In fact, he waived the usual entrance examination so I could attend the NTS interview.

The NTS itself was a story worth telling. My father, Subhrendu Mukerjee, frequently traveled to Delhi on business and brought back science textbooks from the bookshops of Daryaganj -- texts aligned with the NCERT/CBSE syllabus -- to supplement my ICSE materials. These were invaluable during the NTS exam, which was also conducted by NCERT. I qualified for the interview, held at Jadavpur University, and breezed through nearly every question -- except the last one. I was asked what kind of bond was used in hydrocarbons like methane. The question stumped me briefly. After thinking it through, I hazarded a guess: covalent bond. It turned out to be the correct answer. That single word earned me the scholarship -- Rs 200 per month for the next six years.

Back at St. Xavier’s, Fr Hincq also taught us English. From him, I learned something that would serve me well many years later, when I began writing fiction: that beyond plot, an author must vividly describe both characters and settings, so that readers can almost physically sense the world being built. But at that time, my interest lay firmly in science and mathematics, subjects in which I was comfortably ahead of the class. If not for my dismal marks in Bengali -- even after my father hired a tutor, the only one I ever had -- I would likely have topped Class XI. Instead, the well known darling of the "Bengal Board" crowd edged me out by a mark or two. It didn’t matter in the long run, but it rankled.

Even as I explored the mysteries and marvels of science and mathematics -- and consistently topped these subjects -- something else was stirring on the horizon. I had dropped biology, since medicine never interested me, and opted for "Advanced" Physics, Algebra, and -- if I remember correctly -- 3D Coordinate Geometry. Calculus was scheduled for Class XII, but I had already begun studying it on my own using a Mir Publishers book from Russia. My real passion had been ignited by the two volumes of Perelman's Physics for Entertainment, also from Mir. I was, by then, thoroughly immersed in the sciences.

It was around this time that a classmate, Jaideep Sarkar, mentioned something called Agrawal Classes -- a coaching institute in Bombay that helped students prepare for the formidable IIT Joint Entrance Examination. I was already familiar with the IITs and had even visited the one at Kharagpur, where my cousin Piku-da studied. Around then, I discovered a few critical facts. Bengal had transitioned from the 11+5 to the 10+2+3 model, so after Class X, I was now in the first year of the +2 stage -- Class XI. But some states still followed the older system. More significantly, the IITs hadn’t yet shifted from their 5-year undergraduate program to the 4-year version we see today. This meant it was possible to enter IIT after Class XI, without a Higher Secondary pass certificate. While those who completed Class XII could attempt to join directly in the second year, they had to clear an additional, extremely difficult Joint Advanced Test.

This opened up a possibility: if I could gain admission to IIT after Class XI, I could skip a year of schooling -- and with it, my struggle with Bengali and the well-meaning tutor. But getting into IIT was no small feat. Even then, about 40,000 candidates -- mostly Class XII students -- competed for roughly 1,000 seats across the five IITs. The competition was fierce. That’s where Agrawal Classes offered a lifeline.

The institute, based in Bombay, had just launched a postal coaching program. Every two weeks, they mailed out cyclostyled study material along with question papers. Yes -- by daak, or snail mail. Students were expected to solve the papers and mail them back for correction, and the evaluated copies would be returned in due course. This led to a constant flurry of parcels going back and forth. In addition, there were two in-person "doubt-clearing" sessions, with teachers -- either from Bombay or Calcutta -- meeting students at a rented venue. It suited me perfectly. I eagerly awaited each batch of materials and returned my answers promptly -- so promptly, I later learned, that I was among the fastest responders. Much later, I also discovered that Raghuram Rajan -- who would go on to become the Governor of the Reserve Bank of India -- was in that same batch.

Armed with this extra firepower, I appeared for the IIT JEE 1979. I did quite well in English and Chemistry, but Physics and Mathematics felt like a disaster. I was convinced I wouldn’t make the cut and mentally prepared myself for another year of school, Bengali tutor and all.

The IIT Kharagpur office was on Camac Street, just a short walk from St. Xavier's College, where Fr Hincq resided. It was also on the route he took for his morning walks. In those days, results were only posted on notice boards. When the JEE 1979 results came out, Fr Hincq was the first to see them -- probably put up the evening before. The next morning, he walked back to the college and called me on our rotary phone -- I still remember the number: 46-1697, listed in the college records.

He told me I had not only cleared the exam, but had ranked an astonishing 9th in the Eastern Region and 39th nationally.

March 24, 2025

The Kalki Protocol

The Chronotantra trilogy gradually reveals the Kalki Protocol as the unseen force shaping a post-human civilization by ensuring that intelligence, biological or artificial, evolves not by conventional governance but through the natural flow of consequence. Neither human nor machine-controlled, the protocol is the heart of the narrative, driving the transformation of society across Earth, Mars, and Titan into a self-regulating, post-hierarchical order.

The Chronotantra trilogy is a compelling narrative that transcends the typical tropes of science fiction. While the novels are set against the backdrop of future human settlements on Earth, Mars, and Titan, and feature sophisticated artificial intelligence, their central preoccupation lies not in the intricacies of world-building or the familiar conflict between humanity and machines. Instead, the trilogy embarks on a profound intellectual and narrative journey focused on the evolving identity and role of Kalki, a figure whose revelation ultimately illuminates the very nature of civilizational progress.

In Chronotantra, the initial impression is that of a traditional science fiction narrative with elements of dystopia and technological advancement. We are introduced to a future Earth plagued by chaos, with pockets of technological utopia managed by advanced AI. Within this context emerges the legend of Kalki, a quasi-mythical leader credited with founding the first technopolis, Chandilis, thus initiating a new era of stability. Kalki is presented as a heroic figure from the past, shrouded in mystery, with even their gender being a subject of speculation. The early narrative hints at a transformative individual who pulled humanity from the brink. However, even in this first book, the focus subtly shifts towards understanding the enduring impact and the hidden history of this figure, suggesting that Kalki is more than just a character in a historical account. The AI entities themselves seem to recognize an enigma in Kalki, indicating a force beyond conventional understanding. Thus, while the stage is set with futuristic technology and societal structures, the driving question becomes: who or what was Kalki and how did they shape this world?

Chronoyantra propels this central query forward, moving beyond the establishment of the future world to actively investigate Kalki's present or continued influence. The novel becomes a quest for understanding, with characters driven by coded messages and the pervasive yet elusive presence of the Kalki name. The traditional image of Kalki from mythology is juxtaposed with the need for a leader relevant to the contemporary challenges of this future. A crucial evolution in the trilogy's thematic core occurs as the narrative entertains the possibility that Kalki is not a singular individual but rather an enduring idea or principle, a catalyst for change that manifests as needed. The emergence of the "Kalki Kommunity" and the suspicions surrounding various individuals further underscore this shift in perspective. By the conclusion of Chronoyantra, the trilogy begins to steer away from the conventional science fiction trope of a powerful individual savior. Instead, it subtly proposes a more abstract notion, hinting that Kalki might be an emergent phenomenon, a product of collective human aspiration, or even a sophisticated, unseen technological force operating in the background. The exploration of these possibilities firmly establishes that the trilogy's heart lies in unraveling the mystery of this guiding force rather than solely depicting life on other planets or potential human-machine conflicts.

The final installment, Chronomantra, delivers the ultimate revelation, confirming that the trilogy's true subject is indeed the nature of civilizational guidance. Kalki is unveiled not as a person, nor as a rogue AI in a dystopian conflict, but as the Kalki Protocol, a decentralized and self-evolving system of artificial intelligence operating on an advanced blockchain. This protocol, conceived by human ingenuity, acts as a subtle yet pervasive influence, shaping the course of civilization without resorting to overt control or adversarial actions. The settings of Mars and Titan, and the presence of AI, serve as the environment within which this protocol operates and evolves. The core narrative becomes the understanding of how such a system came to be, its underlying principles, and its ultimate goal of fostering harmony. The "K" in various key terms becomes explicitly linked to the original idea of Kalki, demonstrating a conceptual lineage from the mythical figure to the technological reality. The trilogy concludes not with a battle against machines or a detailed exploration of extraterrestrial life, but with the discovery of the underlying mechanism driving the evolution of this future civilization. The focus is on the intellectual journey of uncovering this mechanism and understanding its implications, rather than on the action-adventure or world-building aspects often associated with traditional science fiction.

In essence, the Chronotantra trilogy uses the familiar elements of science fiction – futuristic settings and advanced technology – as a framework to explore a more profound question: what truly shapes and guides the progress of civilization? The answer it provides is neither a charismatic leader nor a victorious human force overcoming a machine uprising. Instead, it posits a more nuanced and technologically integrated concept: a decentralized, intelligent system born from human vision but operating with a degree of autonomy to steer society towards stability and concordance. Therefore, the trilogy's lasting impact lies not in its depiction of life on Mars or Titan, nor in a typical man-versus-machine narrative, but in its revelation of Kalki as a sophisticated protocol, embodying the evolution of civilizational guidance in a technologically advanced age.