It was already evening when they arrived, and I sensed a good feeling. The light had softened, retreating gently from the edges of objects, as though the day itself wished to listen to what came next. Dr. Gangadhar Sunkara came with Dr. Chinnababu Sunkavalli—both...
On Meeting a Sage Among Machines
On Meeting a Sage Among Machines
Hyderabad was settled 500 years ago amid the vast expanse of stones and dust, a plateau beneath a hot sky. A part of it now bursts with high-rise glass towers, where the sun is mirrored when rising and setting. This new part is called Cyberabad, as though Hyderabad—rooted in time immemorial, bazaars and minarets—has reincarnated without dying. The great corporations—Microsoft, Google, Amazon, and Facebook—have come here with their vast encampments: shining fortresses of light. All of this, spun like a web around the institute, IIIT Hyderabad, where a handful of visionaries once sowed the first seeds.
There, among them, is P. J. Narayanan—PJN, as both his friends and students call him. From the quiet town of Alwaye to Kharagpur’s corridors, to Maryland’s cool libraries, to the laboratories of Bengaluru, his path was drawn, like a thread stitched carefully through decades. At CAIR (Centre for Artificial Intelligence and Robotics) in Bengaluru, he imagined pixels turning into moving scenes, reconstructed forms, and possible worlds inside a machine.
Among the pioneering faculty at the International Institute of Information Technology, Hyderabad (IIIT-H), PJN established the Centre for Visual Information Technology (CVIT). Patiently and steadily, he attracted brilliant students every year—the best among the brightest minds, restless with youth, hearts alight with questions—making it the largest of its kind in the country, breathing life into algorithms that see, imagine and remember. Thanks to him, if there is any other place in the world outside Silicon Valley in the US where AI technology truly comes to life, it is here.
In the realm of vision, machines learn to create depth from flat images—faces, streets and temples rising from two dimensions into three, as though a ghost of the real were summoned from the shadows. From the trembling of motion, structure emerges; from the flicker of pixels, entire worlds stand upright. In the realm of graphics, light lingers, refracts and bends its way across hidden surfaces; scenes ripple and shift like landscapes glimpsed in a dream.
Deep inside the humming chambers of the GPU (Graphics Processing Unit), armies of numbers surge and scatter—graphs shifting, strings unravelling and reweaving, patterns clustering like constellations and neural nets shimmering like webs spun overnight. What was once hidden now opens, clear and flowing, carrying the mark of PJN and his students.
When I learnt that he was stepping down from the directorship of the CVIT after completing two glorious terms, I found in him not even a shade of retirement, but the radiance of continuance. He spoke—gently, almost as though teaching a class again—of information technology as the arc of intelligence: how myth and metaphor evolved into mathematics; of Alan Turing’s sober challenge, the Dartmouth dream, and Deep Blue toppling Kasparov like a chess piece fallen in history’s great game.
And as PJN spoke, I witnessed his steady, unrelenting river of thought. From the all-knowing gods, demons and sages of old legends, through the rule-based logic, and now the neural networks that mimic the mind itself—what an incredible journey of intelligence! Now, it is in our pockets through smartphones, in the cars that drive us, and the Chatbots that answer whatever we ask. AI, PJN said, is not something at the door, knocking; it has slipped inside already, rearranged the furniture, set the clocks to its own time, and taken possession of the house.
“Should we be afraid?” I asked. For the air is thick with whispers—robots are replacing men, AI biases buried in data like stones that trip the unwary, inequalities sharpened, not softened, by automation’s hand. PJN chuckled—soft and unhurried, as though the worry were a child tugging at one’s sleeve. Fears, he said, cannot halt a sunrise. The birds who love the dark may complain, but the light comes—inevitable and indifferent. Our task is not to stop it—it cannot be stopped—but to shape it, so that it illuminates and does not blind.
It was here that our common roots in the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) surfaced. What about the great Public Sector Undertakings (PSUs) that have, for decades, formed the backbone of India’s industrial sector? Steel, coal, oil, power, railways—these were once temples of progress, but today, they stand on the threshold of a new revolution. How should they face this dawn of Industry 4.0, where machines learn, sensors whisper, and algorithms anticipate?
PJN’s words felt like counsel: PSUs must not retreat into nostalgia or fear. They must embrace indigenous technologies—crafted for Indian conditions, by Indian hands—and reskill their vast workforces so that machinists and welders become supervisors of robots, interpreters of data and partners of algorithms. The choice is simple: ride the tide of AI and robotics, or be left in their gushing wake.
I thought then of a steel plant in Durgapur, where predictive algorithms could halve the energy used in furnaces, making them not only more cost-effective but also cleaner. Of ONGC deploying drones that sweep across pipelines, spotting hairline cracks before disaster strikes. Of the Indian Railways’ running locomotives, whose sensors continuously report to central dashboards, predicting failures days in advance. Of BEML, supplying earthmoving machines across the global South.
These are not fantasies; they are glimmers already present. What they need is scale, commitment, and above all, faith in India’s own ingenuity. In that moment, I felt that PJN’s voice—measured, prophetic—was speaking not only to me, but also to managers of PSUs, to policymakers, to unions and to young apprentices just joining the shop floor.
When at last I rose to go, I placed my hand in his, and it was as if I touched not merely a man, but the distilled patience of years—the engineer who took a leap in frontline robotics, who became a teacher, the teacher who became a guide, and the guide who remains a sage. No clamour for power, no scent of self—only the quiet, luminous wish: that humanity, with all its frailties, might walk alongside its machines; not behind them, not beneath them, but together, into a future still unmade. The future does not have a blueprint; it builds upon what has been done. It has to be formed every day of our lives, with our own hands, minds and mistakes.
The Industry 4.0 of India must not be a job taker but a job creator. Over the years, we have become addicted to cheap imports. “Why develop when it is available?” is a defeatist mindset. While private companies, driven by profits, may do whatever it takes to make them rich, PSUs must do what makes the country strong and generates employment. I imagine a second innings of PJN, decisively tackling PSUs and making way for change as effortlessly as Moses parted the Red Sea.
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