Here is the link of my new story published in the online magazine Crack the Spine
http://www.crackthespine.com/2012/02/crack-spine-issue-twelve.html
or read here
A Eulogy for a Grad Student
By Anand Prakash
How can we forget him who has spent all of his life working, working and working on his experiments? But one can always ask: Isn’t a graduate student supposed to work like that? Even though I’ve not seen anybody dying from research work but if one person who will die working, I was pretty confident, he should be the one. But how can I predict the future: I am no God.
He walked from his apartment to department. Every single day. He had a superstition that he needed the brownish hot water to streamline his research thoughts at the start of the day. He stopped to drink some amount of brownish hot water at a local shop to kill of his slumber. Every single day. He waited for the pedestrian signals to cross the road as he walked to his department. He couldn’t afford carelessness else his research would suffer. When he put his white skin on, nothing except experiments crossed his mind.
The experiments were his only obsession. “A graduate student must have perseverance and patience to win over any type of experiments,” he had told me during one of our evening brownish hot water sessions. Smile lit his face bright with a recent win. So far he was never failed in a single experiment.
But not all experiments are the same. A failed experiment brought wavy tension lines to his otherwise shiny forehead. “There is something wrong with my commitment to my experiments,” he expressed his guilt before he continued again, “but tomorrow, I will work on the experiment with more patience and perseverance. It will work, for sure.” Day passed but his answer stayed the same and so were the wavy tension lines on his forehead. I was fed up with his optimistic attitude. One day while sipping the brownish hot water, I said, “But you are working on this for over a semester.” “So what? Some experiment tests your limits before they even show a little appreciation in terms of results,” he answered a little agitated. “But some experiment can take your life,” I advised, “and this one experiment you are working this long could be one of this kind.” He gave me a wry smile as if I don’t know anything about the research.
A week before he died working on this suicidal experiment, I suggested him to change his focus to some other experiment. “There are so many reasons for an experiment to not work. Sometimes, it is so hard to speculate upon,” I rationalized. “Why can’t we understand that?” he admonished. “No offense but it’s possible your research plan could be defective…” Unconvinced, he stared at me. I continued, sipping the brownish hot water, “Your sample size of volume may be improper for analysis or may be your technique is flawed or…God knows what?” “God don’t know anything…and there is not God in grad school.” This digressing remark suggested his wounded ego. Thus, I reverted to the standard, uplifting, ego-boosting reply, “You need to wait for the technology to catch up to your imagination.” Unimpressed, he said, “You don’t need technology; all you need imagination to win over this experiment.”
Look where his imagination took him.
But no amount of imagination can bring him back.
So, today, as we mourn in his memory and rejoice in his stubbornness, let’s consider the contribution of such a research worker to our department apart from his research work. “To know our limits” I would say otherwise one of us would fall prey to such an experiment. There are certain things, he used to say, that one should learn from other’s examples. But sadly for him, he was the example for this lesson.
Amen.
http://www.crackthespine.com/2012/02/crack-spine-issue-twelve.html
or read here
A Eulogy for a Grad Student
By Anand Prakash
How can we forget him who has spent all of his life working, working and working on his experiments? But one can always ask: Isn’t a graduate student supposed to work like that? Even though I’ve not seen anybody dying from research work but if one person who will die working, I was pretty confident, he should be the one. But how can I predict the future: I am no God.
He walked from his apartment to department. Every single day. He had a superstition that he needed the brownish hot water to streamline his research thoughts at the start of the day. He stopped to drink some amount of brownish hot water at a local shop to kill of his slumber. Every single day. He waited for the pedestrian signals to cross the road as he walked to his department. He couldn’t afford carelessness else his research would suffer. When he put his white skin on, nothing except experiments crossed his mind.
The experiments were his only obsession. “A graduate student must have perseverance and patience to win over any type of experiments,” he had told me during one of our evening brownish hot water sessions. Smile lit his face bright with a recent win. So far he was never failed in a single experiment.
But not all experiments are the same. A failed experiment brought wavy tension lines to his otherwise shiny forehead. “There is something wrong with my commitment to my experiments,” he expressed his guilt before he continued again, “but tomorrow, I will work on the experiment with more patience and perseverance. It will work, for sure.” Day passed but his answer stayed the same and so were the wavy tension lines on his forehead. I was fed up with his optimistic attitude. One day while sipping the brownish hot water, I said, “But you are working on this for over a semester.” “So what? Some experiment tests your limits before they even show a little appreciation in terms of results,” he answered a little agitated. “But some experiment can take your life,” I advised, “and this one experiment you are working this long could be one of this kind.” He gave me a wry smile as if I don’t know anything about the research.
A week before he died working on this suicidal experiment, I suggested him to change his focus to some other experiment. “There are so many reasons for an experiment to not work. Sometimes, it is so hard to speculate upon,” I rationalized. “Why can’t we understand that?” he admonished. “No offense but it’s possible your research plan could be defective…” Unconvinced, he stared at me. I continued, sipping the brownish hot water, “Your sample size of volume may be improper for analysis or may be your technique is flawed or…God knows what?” “God don’t know anything…and there is not God in grad school.” This digressing remark suggested his wounded ego. Thus, I reverted to the standard, uplifting, ego-boosting reply, “You need to wait for the technology to catch up to your imagination.” Unimpressed, he said, “You don’t need technology; all you need imagination to win over this experiment.”
Look where his imagination took him.
But no amount of imagination can bring him back.
So, today, as we mourn in his memory and rejoice in his stubbornness, let’s consider the contribution of such a research worker to our department apart from his research work. “To know our limits” I would say otherwise one of us would fall prey to such an experiment. There are certain things, he used to say, that one should learn from other’s examples. But sadly for him, he was the example for this lesson.
Amen.
