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Abacus Abu takes the
computer and the calculator to Kyoto, where contestants are sitting
hunched over tables, while a small and quiet audience watches judges
pacing the floor. Suddenly, a teenaged contestant shouts:
"Done!" She, then, passes her answer-sheet to a judge, who
wonders how she has multiplied in her head a list of numbers that would
make an accountant’s head spin.
Abacus Abu: "She did
it on an imaginary abacus, just as others have done throughout Asia for
centuries. This girl takes only a few moments to figure out the quotient
of 992.587318 divided by 5,647.723. This technique, called anzan, that
roughly means mental calculation, comes from an age when the easiest way
to work with large numbers was to use an abacus, a tool that came into
Japan from China in the 16th century."
"Several contestants
push the beads back and forth along metal rods, clicking their way
through cube roots, addition, subtraction and long division, while
skilled abacus users often just imagine the beads rather than physically
move these. The masters of anzan work faster than even supercomputers.
The fingers of the masters skitter across ghost abacuses on the table,
while new practitioners rock in their seats to the internalised,
imagined lilt of the sliding beads. The top title is given only to those
who get perfect scores in addition and subtraction, multiplication,
division and book-keeping."
Mr Processor "the
computer": "I am sorry that I ever doubted your power."
Abacus Abu: "I don’t know why you should be so apologetic. I have
beaten all kinds of adding machines, including calculators and
computers, in the past, but the abacus is, now, just a toy that even
toddlers don’t like. With calculators and computers, I have doubts
about my usefulness. People used to need the abacus to get a job. Now,
it’s just a brain exercise, a mind game."
(Write at The Tribune
or adityarishi99@yahoo.co.in)
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