A cosmic joke

There was a twist to the tail. If Temple-Tuttle could smile, it would be smiling now at the fantasies and foibles of the earthlings it visits once in 33 years. Everyone from generals and stock-brokers to scientists and journalists anticipated some kind of fallout from the comet8217;s passage past the earth8217;s orbit. It might be good or bad, it was sure to be big. It would be the sort of closing ceremony for the 20th century that optimists or pessimists could identify with, glorious lights or the destruction of human artefacts. Either way, there was bound to be a message in that fiery writing in the Asian nightsky. Meanwhile, the military brass reworked their war plans, dalals squared off long positions, scientists battened down satellites, astrophysicists prepared to be astonished and the media went over the top with excitement. And then8230; There are many versions of the rest of the tale. Everyone has a choice of finale. Jupiter may have flicked Temple-Tuttle8217;s tail at the last minute so that the sparks flew overThailand but not as far west as India. Terrible thought but it is suggested theoretical calculations by scientists were out by several hundred thousand kilometres and several thousand meteorites. At a more down-to-earth level, the media is blamed for sensationalising things as usual. One way or another, a cosmic joke.

The happier side is: all 450-plus satellites are in place and all8217;s well with this communications-mad world. Unless, god forbid, Temple-Tuttle has something in mind during its next few passes near the earth, the ceaseless chatter can go on. The insurance guys can get a peaceful night8217;s sleep. India still has a chance of getting hooked to the Iridium network. Nothing has crashed but the hopes of schoolchildren who stayed up to watch the sky and the arrogance of adults who thought they had the universe pretty well sewn up. The Pentagon8217;s generals will be thanking their lucky stars that they only had Saddam Hussain to worry about. What if Ronald Reagan8217;s laser guns and other star-wars gears hadbeen out there on platforms hit by vaporising cosmic rock and ice? That would have been a real test of Bruce Willis-type brawn.

Poor Professor Yashpal. There he was on television in the middle of the night like a sorcerer in black striped kurta against flaming orange backdrop ready to juggle with celestial events and mundane queries. Nothing much happened. It8217;s enough to put a populariser of science off his job for ever. But take heart. One or two things have been learned. These periodic messengers from space remind us of something we like to forget: human fallibility. In a century when science and technology have known no limits but have pushed beyond the frontiers of all imagination, a little humbling of the masters of the universe is no bad thing. All that numbers-crunching, gene-splitting and hardware in the sky and an ordinary little comet comes along and says, you ain8217;t figured it all out yet. Not a spectacular message but a message alright.