I am Syed Mostasim Hasnain Saif. My life has developed along one continuous line of curiosity: from childhood experiments and handmade objects to engineering, research, travel, architecture, and the interpretation of human stories. I am interested not only in how systems work, but also in how places, objects, and ideas acquire meaning. Research is one expression of that curiosity, not its boundary.
I am an electrical and electronic engineer by education and a researcher by profession, but I am also a maker, museum wanderer, documentary watcher, traveller, language learner and interpreter of ordinary things. I like to look at an artefact and imagine the hands that once used it. I look at a building and ask what feeling the designer wanted to create.
Science has always felt playful to me. Childhood experiments with light, water, motion and chemical reactions gradually became engineering, programming and research. I once disliked coding, then discovered that a few lines of MATLAB could solve pages of electric-network mathematics. Since then, code has become another material I can shape.
My research on digital twins, ontologies and AI agents grows from the same instinct that once made me build clay puppets and jute objects: begin with scattered pieces, understand their relationships and turn them into something meaningful.
These cards present the languages and scripts that form part of my communication, cultural background, and continuing learning.
These chapters follow the order in which my interests grew. Curiosity first appeared through play; making taught me patience and form; movement between countries enlarged my sense of culture and place; and astronomy remained the distant horizon that continued to shape my imagination.
My earliest encounters with science were physical and immediate. I made small rainbows with water, watched suspended milk particles alter the colour of sunlight, experimented with motion, and read Bengali science fiction that pushed my imagination beyond the visible world. I was asking scientific questions before I knew how to name them.
Before I learned to build digital systems, I learned to make things with my hands. Clay puppets, jute figures, baskets, bowls, and woven mats taught me that form emerges gradually through attention, repetition, and proportion. Years later, programming and ontology engineering appealed to the same instinct: the pleasure of assembling separate elements into a coherent whole.
Moving from Bangladesh to Korea changed travel from an occasional activity into a way of learning. Architecture, food, museums, public spaces, and ordinary neighbourhoods became entry points into history and culture. A place became meaningful not when I could locate it on a map, but when I could connect it with encounters, textures, routines, and memories.
Astronomy has remained the horizon behind many of my choices. The Moon and the Sun were among my earliest internet searches; black holes once represented the future I hoped to pursue; and Enceladus still fascinates me because its icy plumes make a distant moon appear unexpectedly alive. Even when my career moved toward buildings and cities, the scale of the universe continued to influence how I think.
Long before I studied engineering, I imagined a future shaped by physics, particles, astronomy, and space exploration. Choosing a degree in Bangladesh also required a practical understanding of employment and long-term stability. Electrical and electronic engineering became the meeting point between those two realities: broad enough to lead toward communication and space technologies, yet grounded enough to support a dependable career.
My first experience of Java convinced me that programming was not for me. The change came during the third year of my degree, when MATLAB allowed me to convert lengthy electrical-network equations and large matrix calculations into reusable code. A problem that once occupied several pages could suddenly be solved, checked, and repeated within seconds. Programming ceased to feel like an obstacle and became an extension of the way I reason.
At art school, I was less interested in decorating a page than in shaping material into form. I made tepa putul, jute puppets, baskets, bowls, and woven mats, and learned that patient hands could give ordinary materials character and purpose. That early pleasure in making has never disappeared. Today I work with different materials, including code, data, diagrams, and ontologies, but I remain motivated by the same desire to turn fragments into something intelligible and complete.
My interest in architecture deepened when my academic work brought me into an architectural-engineering environment. At Zaha Hadid's Dongdaemun Design Plaza, the boundaries between floor, wall, and ceiling appear to dissolve into a continuous surface. The building made me understand architecture not simply as an object, but as an argument about movement, perception, and imagination. Since that visit, I have looked at buildings by asking what kind of experience their forms are trying to produce.
Moving from Bangladesh to Korea transformed travel into a sustained education. Over three years, I explored cities, coastlines, palaces, museums, neighbourhoods, and local food, gradually learning the country through its landscapes and everyday rhythms. What began as a distant destination became a collection of familiar routes, cultural encounters, and personal memories.
In 2021, I participated in two asteroid-hunting campaigns conducted through the International Astronomical Search Collaboration with NASA support. My teams carried the Arrokoth name: BARC-Arrokoth in March and Arrokoth 2.0 in November. By examining Pan-STARRS image sequences and comparing the movement of faint objects across frames, I took part in the search for near-Earth objects and Main Belt asteroids. The experience allowed a childhood fascination with astronomy to become a genuine act of citizen science.
My research asks how buildings can become more intelligible to the people and systems responsible for them. I develop digital-twin knowledge structures that connect physical assets, virtual models, operational data, services, and AI agents. The aim is not merely to collect information, but to organise it so that a complex building can describe its own components, explain the relationships among them, and support better decisions.
I create formal descriptions of sensors, equipment, models, services, and their relationships so that building information can remain consistent across tools and use cases.
I investigate model-based sensors that estimate, validate, or replace measurements when physical devices are unavailable, unreliable, or drifting from their expected behaviour.
I study ontology-guided agents that retrieve metadata, interpret system conditions, coordinate resources, and support operational decisions in complex building environments.
This section brings together two forms of exploration. The travel atlas reconstructs my journeys from the location metadata stored in my photo gallery, while the discussion area gives reflective ideas enough space to develop through conversation.
I want to show you where in the world I have been through an interactive atlas reconstructed from the location metadata in my photo gallery. Select a country to zoom into it, explore its administrative boundaries, and click a blinking point to identify the city or county, province or state, and country associated with that visit. The map presents the geography of my journeys without publishing filenames, photograph totals, or other private records.
Each pulsing marker represents a location reconstructed from the geographical metadata in my photo gallery. Zoom or pan freely, then select a marker to identify its neighbourhood, city or county, and province.
Street and neighbourhood labels require an internet connection. The markers remain derived only from the location coordinates in the uploaded photo metadata.
The top-level coverage is separated into provinces, metropolitan cities, and special cities so that these distinct administrative categories are not incorrectly presented as provinces.
South Korea's top-level structure is presented as 9 provinces, 6 metropolitan cities, and 2 special cities. The lower-level comparison follows 75 cities, 82 counties, and 69 districts. Coverage is calculated from the coordinates present in the travel metadata.
Food for Thought opens as a separate page containing short reflections, questions, and ideas that can be explored in greater depth.
Open Food for Thought to explore the collection on its dedicated page.
I value conversations that are thoughtful, curious, and specific. You are welcome to contact me about research collaboration, digital twins and ontology, architecture and cultural heritage, science communication, travel, or a creative idea that does not fit neatly into one discipline.