This is interesting because it clearly shows the mode of transport that wins hands down—in terms of time taken, weather, and other influences. And I wish it wasn’t so obvious.

There is a record of how the first Permalink came about. Wikipedia says it came from Kottke, and the then Blogger guys—Matt Haughey, Paul Bausch, and Evan Williams.

Now, I am a great fan of the Permalink. Without permanent internet links—which is what Permalinks essentially are, there wouldn’t really have been a usable, linkable internet. Everyone would then link to the source’s homepage, and users would be left to struggle with the UI to figure out the article they cared to read about on a given website.

This post isn’t about Permalink as a function, it is pretty banal from what I’ve just said in the paragraph above. This post is about its symbolic representation.

Kottke preferred to add a graphical symbol similar to an equivalent sign, while Blogger and Movabletype used the word “Permalink” itself in their representation. Like the earlier manifestation of feed symbols, there is a clear incoherency in how people represent their permalinks. There are all kinds of them, most notably, the hash (#), the paragraph (¶), and the somewhat familiar star, and the infinity loop (∞).¹

People moved on once they got the hang of the permalinks, and when page or post titles themselves became the equivalents. So today, it doesn’t matter if you have an icon or not, as long as you have a title with a link attached to it.

Symbolism is a choice of the individual of course, and I am a believer. They are in my Gods. They are in my conventions. They are in the organization I work for. Even feed has a symbol.² For me, they are everywhere.

I have often used some of the popular graphic icons in the past. Recently, and after a bit of deliberation, I chose π as my permanent internet-link (Pi) symbol.³⁴ It is an age old, respected mathematical icon, which represents irrationality and—in my personal opinion—is an apt representation of the internet and its permanent links.⁵

π is for posterity’s sake. And here’s hoping that when Martians, or Saturnians, or whoever come looking at our history, and get all confused about the math π and the permanent internet-link π, they’ll notice the correlation, and appreciate it upon reading this note.

1. I have used some of these in the past myself.
2. On hindsight, I now wonder why we have a graphical symbol for representing feed, instead of a plain text symbol.
3. For posts that are generally displayed without titles.
4. It is a simple π code in HTML.
5. And for personal reasons.

There are possibly three kinds of people engaging into a marriage. The first kind is the one that thinks marriage is bliss, the ‘happily ever after’ type. They don’t know what to expect, nevertheless think it will bring them happiness. The second kind is perhaps that which seeks relationship, companionship, a change from solitude, an escape from the existing life, or a license to an adventurous one. The third, and the rare breed is a know-it-all, and happily soul-exchanging type. Braving all the life’s meanders, they will truly live happily in each others’ company ever after.

Interesting thing about these three is that they could also be stages in a marriage—not particularly in any order, instead of kinds of people. As people mature into relationships, I think their meaning of companionship ripes with time, changing perspectives, and hopefully for the better.

Spice Girls may not really know the true meaning of Two become One, because soul-merging takes time and effort, as life attempts at braving storms like the clash of personalities, strengths of their egos, love quotient, and external pulls such as peer-pressure, materialism, and other strings—human, or object oriented.

No algorithm in this complex equation is universal. Medicine for one could be a poison for the other. Still, amplifying individual strengths, while subduing and treating weaknesses would perhaps be applicable generally towards a long-term relationship. Escaping or amplifying weaknesses spells trouble, and will make you as a couple very unhappy. Negative vibe, instead of the positive is generally bad, i.e., you don’t want to take that route.

Taking turns at the helm perhaps does wonders at improving strengths, confidence, and commitment to each other. Every couple, or family should try this as often as practically possible.¹

In the end it is about the choices we make, and the paths we take. And truly, we as individuals alone are responsible for everything that happens in our lives together.

But I digress.

Sneha and I went to Giethoorn to spend some time alone over the weekend—sans kids, who stayed back happily with their visiting grandparents—on the occasion of our tenth anniversary. I started writing about it, but ended taking this ‘philosophical’ detour instead. For the afterthought, we may not really know what type we are, but we truly hope to be that third kind—it is an aspiration, a promise we try to make to each other, to our children, and try and honor it through time.

1. A special note to patriarchally oriented families.

Work life in Holland has put me back in the habit of carrying a bag, which I had stopped using while in Malaysia. My condo there was so close to work that I could just go home and get stuff lest I forgot something.

Curious to see what I typically carried in my 12″ Crumpler, I dumped its contents on the floor today, and took this photograph.

My educated guess on Titanic’s failure until now had been hinging on uneven material microstructure (or molecular level grain distribution) at subzero temperature in steel—as the primary cause. In this of course, I assumed that connections were taken care of. It appears they weren’t.

Shimano’s RevoShift is idiot-proof. The other day I was doing it wrong—putting higher gear while going uphill, before Sneha raced ahead and showed me how.

For the inexperienced, this Michael Faraday’s invention makes the wheel feel like it’s running out of grease until you get used to its traction.

Aaryana, my eight year old daughter is yet to find her cycling balance. Yes, I am acutely aware of how late she is—especially when I see four-year old Dutch kids riding like pros. But then, I see myself in her.

The Halfords guy refused to sell me a carrier seat mount, because he thought her 25kilos weight was over the 22kg capacity of my bicycle carrier. So we had a problem. My wife’s bike is already mounted with another seat for my younger four year old daughter. Leaving kids home would rob all the fun. In any case, we wouldn’t do it.

On inspection, the carrier’s welded joints look strong. Plus, my bike has two 6mm solid steel rods as primary steel—going to the axle of my rear wheel, with about 6inches of unbraced length—for resisting axial compression. For a 25kg, that’s roughly about 9MPa—four times less than 36MPa (0.15Fy, assuming mild-steel). You needn’t do the math of course. In India, I have seen enough adult pillion riders on carriers slender than mine.

With weight restriction out of the way, Aaryana could now ride on the carrier. Still, there were two problems. One, it’s uncomfortable, and two, there’s no foot-rest. I solved the first problem with a fleece blanket securely laid over the carrier, whose surface now feels like a cushy pillow.

Problem number two remains unsolved. I am trying to get some kind of foot-rest for Aaryana. For now, she’s resting her tiny feet on the large closed axle bolts. While she doesn’t complain, I know it’s not a comfortable position, particularly on long rides. On bumpy roads, she slips her footing. But that is not stopping us enjoying country rides—at least not yet.

I didn’t find anything for the foot-rest in cycle stores in my area—probably because what we are doing here is unusual; I haven’t seen anyone older than 4 years riding pillion. If you have suggestions¹—something I could buy a pair off the shelf, then please do share.

1. The other (expensive) option, common around here, is to get a tandem attachment.

In early January 2007, we bought our first bicycle here, basically to overcome hauling the weekly grocery from the not-too-near supermarket, on foot—especially during cold winter.

I am not new to cycling; every kid in India rides one—or at least did, when I was a kid. But throughout my younger years, cycling somehow was always about one or many of these activities: for transporting oneself from point A to point B; for getting my mother’s list of groceries home, or being a shuttle for my sister.

Riding for fun perhaps never did exist for me.

Or may be it was crushed by the state of Indian roads, known for the mixed mode traffic, and where the small users suffer the brunt inevitably—thanks to the gross disrespect, the motorists have towards cyclists. Or may be I wanted to avoid the un-cool tag, because in India, cycling is somehow perceived to ‘reduce your social status,’ once you are out of high school. Or may be I wasn’t so strong willed to desist the taunts of my school buddies.

My first (and only) regular bike was Speedking—a relatively unknown brand, which at the time, was sold only through Army canteens. I bought one through a friend of mine, whose grandfather was a retired Army official in the Indian Army. I bought it for Rs. 512—my parents gave me. It was a simple, bare-bones, no-gear bike. It came in the only color—red. I would tweak this bike endlessly, for that little change in riding experience; and it served me well for years. But I digress.

Holland’s cycling culture renewed our interests to pursue riding yet again years later. But riding alone isn’t fun of course. So, my wife and I went down to the local Halfords store, and got another bike—so we could both ride together over the weekends.

It helps that the cycle paths here in Holland are arguably the best in the world. They have their own traffic signals, direction sign boards, lanes, and tunnels—not to mention their own rules. But they are not the only reason riding is fun. Many, many of the tracks lead you to discover your private Holland—picturesque, virgin, lined with delightful wooden bridges over canals and waterways; helping you explore woods, forests, wild life, mysterious tracks, dunes, and other lovely getaways.

We almost regret starting this late.

The least I can do is give back. To be fair, I’m just donating the equivalent of an upgrade fee from Windows XP to Ubuntu—instead of Vista. But here’s my dilemma—who do you donate to? Today, I have so far donated to Ubuntu, FSF, and to the Gnome Foundation.

How do you donate for your free and open source software?