The full Moon dazzles along the ripples on the Cam, as they make their way towards Ely and Waterbeach, to meet with the Great Ouse, and thence towards The Wash to be one with the North Sea. As I sit in my well-lit living room, a couple of miles away from the river, waiting for Eunice to pass, I wonder about the Moonshine. I wonder specifically about the chain of reactions that excited some photons to travel to the Moon, get reflected, and make their way towards the Earth to eventually diffuse into the cold of the Cam. Riding along life's dualities, when we truly desire, we get to hear echoes of the past.
When I first came to know of formal dinners at Cambridge, I laughed at the archaic beats of the idea: You go to a dining hall, dressed in a specific attire that consists of gowns and ties, and get served food and (real) fine wine by butlers. If you are a 'Fellow', you get to seat at the High Table (on a pedestal), orthogonal to rows full of undergrads and PhD students! Harry Potter, much? (Oh wait!)
We live in a world that speaks increasingly of equality in every sphere
of life. We want our universities to imbibe values of fraternity and
liberty in students, and to abolish hierarchy as much as possible. It is
then quite surprising that a world leader like Cambridge still
maintains traditions from more than half a millennium ago.
When the first chance of attending such a formal dinner came (at my own college, Holy Trinity) last year, I was not too keen on it, and ended up giving it a miss. Maybe I didn't know too many people at the time because of the pandemic, or I was just being my lazy self. Nevertheless,
the intrigue did remain in me. So, when my office-mate , who is also a Fellow at St. John's College, invited us for a formal, I let my inquisitive mind take over and accepted her invitation. One, I had never stepped inside St. John's in these sixteen months of living in Cambridge, even though I have punted along its waters; and second, this time I was having Tim and Rosalba for company.
Although both Trinity and St. John's boast of famous main gates, there is a subtle difference in the ambiance when one walks through them. While both campuses are divided into several courts by old concrete structures, the entry court of St. John's turns out to be much better illuminated than Trinity's. However, if you suddenly miss the old world charm, John's won't disappoint you. To enter the dining hall, one has to walk across the first court to enter the inner dimly lit courtyard. There you are, transported in a flash to a bygone era half a millennium old. Then, as if you have walked into the Slytherin common room, you head to the shady dungeons to hang your jacket (but not the gown). The place was lit by two small-wattage sources. To assist Tim in hanging his jacket, Rosalba tried to light up the room twice, and on either attempt only managed to shut out each light source once.
Then we joined all the other Fellows in the "Green Room" before proceeding towards the dining hall together. (I am not sure if its purpose is / was to serve as an actual green room, or is it simply because the walls are painted green.) As the doorkeeper held the door for us, I noticed that this entrance is immediately by the High Table. We walked in, reached our chairs, as all the "lowly" undergrads and PhD students waited for the older guys to hurry up. On reaching our spot, well..well.. there was Latin! Someone said a prayer (I assume he was the College Master; I also noticed people touching their chairs while the prayer was on), which ended with others saying Amen! We then took our seats. Apparently, the custom is to not leave any vacant seat between two occupied ones, and I was saved from making that mistake by my companions.
I was sitting next to Prof. Buzz Baum, who offered to pour me some water, while mentioning that the mugs are actually silver. I showed him my surprise while hiding the fact that I have childhood memories of silver glasses at my home (and those made of white and black marbles, especially reserved for Sharbat). One of the butlers then neatly poured us a glass of Chavignon (2020) each (now that's some wine!) as I waited for the three-course specialty.
First, some tomato soup arrived at the table, and the waiter inquired whether I am a vegetarian. I wondered whether that had got something to do with the soup, and to be on the safe side, answered in the affirmative. I could see Salmon on the main course menu, and immediately figured that the question corresponded to the fish! Of course, the well trained butler then brought me a vegetarian risotto, which did turn out to be tasty. But you know, when an entire table devours Salmon around a Bengali, the Bengali mind becomes sharp enough to cook up its own recipe for peace! In the meantime, I struck up a conversation with Buzz, about the kind of experiments he does. As it turned out, we have a common professional interest (in membranes) and I hope to pay his lab a visit sometime soon. Meanwhile, I had to ask him, "Buzz, like Buzz Aldrin?" (Yeah, I know...) He said with a smile on lips, and a serious enough tone, "Yes, I'm named after him". I haven't lived in Britain long enough to truly understand the sarcasm of the land. Coming back to the food, the dessert was some cake served with whipped cream, and a flower petal!!! Needless to say, the petal graced the plate at the end and not my intestines.
Then I saw the Fellows stand up, signalling that the dinner was over (at least at the High Table). Another Latin verse was uttered, and then we walked out of the dining hall, all Fellows together. The next custom is to walk upstairs to the coffee room, which incidentally is also the room where Fellows have lunch. As me, Rosalba and Tim walked upto the butler holding the coffee tray, a very kind Prof. Steve Edgley poured coffee for the three of us. Of course, me and Tim were simply enjoying the benefits of being guests of a Fellow, but Steve seemed to be in a chatty mood. We were then joined by Prof. David Williams, who himself is a veterinary surgeon. These two old chaps then guided the discussion from snakes' eyes and mercury buried underneath Cambridge to models of the universe. While this is understandable as the three of us are Physicists, but for me, personally, this conversation touched a note. Steve and David started reminiscing about Fred Hoyle, his personality and his model of the Steady State universe. Now here's something interesting. Of course, for Indians, when we speak of Fred Hoyle, we do not mention him as a singularity, but rather alongside his companion, Jayant Narlikar. As it turns out, Narlikar's student was Prof. Thanu Padmanabhan who in turn mentored Prof. L. Sriramkumar. Sriram was my Masters Thesis advisor at IIT Madras, and one can access my project report through this link on his website.
Yeah, I know that that was a bit of self indulgence, but Sriram and IIT Madras made a student out of me; and I never let an opportunity pass to thank my Alma Mater.
That's it. That's my first formal experience in Cambridge. Like everything else about this city, it is just one more positive addition to the list. The formal at John's at the end felt more about respect for a certain profession, than about hierarchy. Cambridge is a special place. When I walk by the lush green meadows, or bike along the Cam, I see something here that I haven't seen elsewhere. It is a city of brightness; of the human mind, pouring out through the eyes to light up the lanes, the punts, the pubs, the equations, the computers, the food, the cultures, the fairs, the books, the chapels, the friendships, the lovers; the future. Cambridge isn't Moonshine. It's a star whose destiny is to light up the Earth.
