Grad studies - II: Exploring academia as an undergrad

In my last post on grad studies, I made a list of topics that I thought were important from a prospective/current graduate student's point of view. This post follows up on that one with an essay on exploring the academic world while an undergrad.

Exploring the academic world as an undergrad is both useful and daunting. It is useful since it helps you make a very important career choice - whether to continue in academia or jump into the "real" world. Exploring the academic and research world as an undergrad can be a daunting prospect as well, because, often, you dont know where to start. So, how should you undertake this little exploration? Let me try to answer this in an anecdotal manner followed by a few general comments.

I was lucky in my "explorations". Fed up with text book metal extraction stuff, I had partly made up my mind by the end of 2nd year to opt out of metallurgy asap (i.e. immediately after BTech) and get a software job. However, as luck would have it, we went to IISc Bangalore on a study trip during the 3rd year of BTech. We went to meet our erstwhile college seniors, who were ME students at IISc. And in doing so, at some point of time during that trip I found myself standing in front of Prof. Ranganathan's lab. They had a wonderful poster outside the lab highlighting the work of Eric Lord and S. Ranganathan on geometry of quasicrystals. Ever since my school days, I had loved geometry and math. The reason I found metallurgy so stultifying in undergrad days was because it seemed bereft of mathematical beauty. That one poster gave me hope that there may be a lot more to metallurgy than I learnt from undergrad courses. Subsequently, I spent months searching up quasicrystals on the internet. I garnered some information, found some research papers, a short monograph, and just as importantly, made email contact with a number of scientists and professors working on this field who kindly directed me to a few valuable resources. I searched up people who worked on quasicrystals. I applied and got an internship in Prof Chattopadhyay's lab. Although I finally didnt work on quasicrystals and nor did i have much success on my internship project on solidification I gained valuable experience and insight to the research world.

I was lucky to come across the poster. Such luck is not uncommon, but it doesnt come the way of everyone. So what should you do if you didnt have "luck". Well, first of all, there should be a resolve not to trash your discipline unless you have given it a good shot - meaning, dont think of switching lanes too early. Secondly, think clearly about what you are passionate about (in my case, it was numbers, math and geometry). Then talk to professors to see whether you are able to tie up your passions in any research field (IMHO, you should be able to do this!! That's the beauty of research). I cant over-stress how important this step is. Thirdly, walk through the library. Look at books that professors havent ever suggested. Often such books turn out to be specialized books and may be a bit tough, but, they have the advantage of offering you a glimpse on how things may look at the research level. No professor at undergrad level asks you to browse through the "Physical Metallurgy Vol 1,2 &3" by Cahn and Haasen. But having done just that, I found an useful article by Walter Steurer on quasicrystals, which helped me fuel my interest on. Lastly, keep your eyes and ears open for research projects. Nothing matches gaining experience on the job. So, working on a research project part time in your college, or a summer internship in a research lab helps you no end.

To summarize:
1. Be positive and dont equate coursework with research; often research is infinitely more interesting than coursework. So, before giving up on higher studies/research, give it a honest shot.
2. Never give up on your passions; and, always look for research fields where the topics about you are passionate has a key role.
3. Write to people; whether grad students, or scientists or professors (in your university and elsewhere) with a short note on your area of interest, the sort of work you visualize that you would love and ask for guidance. However, do proper research on the net on whom to write to, and dont make your letters too generic.
4. Dont just live on the net. The college library (however big or small that may be) is a resource as fantastic as the net. Just browsing through the book shelves may be an immensely rewarding experience.
5. Look out for research openings for undergrads. Hands on experience in research at undergrad level is invaluable.

The changing face of cricket

Cricket. What connotations does this one word have for someone who has even a bit of idea about the game? Today, probably, the word will have different connotations for different people. But not too long ago, the one phrase that was synonymous with cricket was the "gentleman's game".

The game of cricket is centuries old. For sure, the game was being played on village greens as early as 16th centuries. The game was initially popular amongst the farming and the metal working community, and slowly evolved from there on. Like most sports, in the early days, cricket was a game played honestly by hardworking men almost as a social activity. The game those days was fueled on by their passion. In the early days, cricket teams flourished in the countryside under the patronage of the dukes and earls, in general the gentry. Blacksmiths and woodcutters, peasants and the occasional gentry would assemble together during a lunch break. Lunch breaks used to be more like net sessions with a bowler being allowed to bowl a certain number of overs and the batsmen being allowed to bat out a certain number of deliveries (irrespective of whether they got out or not).

International matches started much later in 1844 and slowly, the professional cricketer came into being - ones who played for money and prize and made a career out of the game. No longer was the game just a social occasion for the players (although till 1980s when there were limited number of matches, it still was a social occasion for the paying public). A match had to be won and the approach was to damn aesthetics and win the game. mostly, win it hard and fair. The early professional cricketer still had at their core some of the gentlemanly values - they wanted to win, but win fair and square and not "at all costs". Many of the professionals during this ear (late 19th century to mid 20th century) had regular day jobs - a famous example being Don Bradman. While they played for money, the money that they earned was not solely linked to cricket. Despite being professionals they could still afford to treat it not as a guerilla war but a battle of the more honorable kind.

With more and more international matches being played out between countries who were neighbors, or countries who were at loggerheads (India - Pakistan?), the games started getting a nationalistic tinge. Ian Chappell's growling Aussies surface in 1970s. Players, who purportedly played for national pride and so thought that winning the game was the be all and end all (so what, if later on many of them defected to Kerry Packer for money, pride be damned). They defended their actions under the thought "cricket is a game for grown up men. One should be able to take a bit of lip and stay focussed on the game, etc.". (aside: when did grown up men have to resort to childish snipes at each other and make petulant remarks?). But, at least, in the defense of Chappell's Aussies, despite the gladiatorial air with which they played the game, they still went out with their opponents after the match. Chappell's Aussies represented a transitional breed of cricketers.

The modern cricketer is a much meaner version of the Aussies. True, some of the comments exchanged on the field would leave you wondering whether or laugh or to fume, but an increasingly large number of comments were becoming personal, racial and abusive. Today, the cricketer's income is totally dependent on the game. They get sponsorships for their success on the field and equally importantly, for their eye catching ability and newsworthiness. In addition, advent of cricket leagues like ICL and IPL means large salaries directly from the game itself. The game of cricket is creating moneyed individuals. In itself, that is not bad. The professional cricketer reaches where he is by sheer dint of hard work and sacrifices from an early age. But, money after all is the root of all evils. With money comes an ego, the size of which in many (but thankfully not all) cases is directly proportional to the bank balances. In such an era, can someone afford to nurture the gentlemanly values at the cost of losing a match, losing publicity for himself and forgoing a few quick bucks? Slowly, more and more players are starting to answer this with a resounding "No".

Today, the modern pro plays the game in the gladiatorial ampitheater of Eden Gardens or Melbourne cricket ground with their teams having outlandish names like "Knight Riders" and "Daredevils". Money talks, as do abuses. Players cheat, because they believe they should "give no quarters because they ask for none".

Centuries ago, in the sepia tinted days, simple minded honest folks worked hard at the nets in bright sunshine in the village greens trying to perfect a straight drive or get their leg breaks to turn a mile. An era of camradeire abounded and cheating and abusing was not called for, nor tolerated. Just as the samurai perfected his breathing and the stroke of his sword with a sense of spirituality, the early practitioners of cricket tried to perfect their art not for fame or money, but for the sake of perfection. That, in essence, described the spirit of cricket. This is the spirit that is being abused by all and sundry related to the game. The spirit that has all but died out today.

Truth be said, cricket is a microcosm of the society we live in. Society has changed. So has the game.

Grad studies - I: incoherent ponderings

The jobless grad student inside me is surfacing yet again. This Friday night was spent in two parts. Admittedly though, both turned out to be fruitful.

The first part was a dinner organized by the Brazilian-Portuguese students association. The food was sumptuous, the cultural programs were nice too (maculele, a capoeira demonstration, and you guessed it, a samba band). Goes without a saying that chicks were hot too :) Hope I get to go to Brazil for a conference some day ;)

The second part was spent on making my website. Well, here's the crucial part. I put in a link to a "resources" page, with the noble intention of collecting lots of links on the web on various topics related to materials research as well as grad studies. Well, I am yet to put up links on materials research, but I did put in a few of my favorite links pertaining to grad studies. The page is by no means complete, but it is hopefully a decent start.

In my blog, I am hoping to put up a few short essays (all opinions my own only) on graduate studies. Obviously *few* essays will relate to *few* important aspects (or at least, what I consider important) of grad studies. This post though, is basically to list these aspects, lest I forget them later.

1. Why enter a grad program?
2. Exploring academia while an undergrad
3. Where to apply (choosing universities/ grad studies in India or abroad)
4. Standardized tests, SOPs, letters of recommendations, etc.
5. Choosing an adviser/PhD guide/major professor
6. The PhD timeline
7. Soft skills
8. How to go about the literature review
9. Framing a research problem and the preliminary research proposal
10. Writing the thesis
11. Life after PhD

11 topics! huh! hope I maintain the motivation to write stuff on all these.
By the way, some of the most interesting articles on grad studies can be found in Prof Abinandanan's blog under the label higher ed-advice.

... and the world matures, but what of its leaders?

It has been ages since I last wrote a blog. Truth be told, I am not an avid blogger at all. It takes some issues that are close to my heart before I can start typing.

Events of last couple of weeks have had issues galore. Issues from lands as diverse as America, South Africa, Australia and India. It is the issue of race and ethnicity. A issue that never goes away, but may seem latent at times.

First, let’s turn to the one speech that got me writing this – Barack Obama’s speech in Philadelphia. The speech came in the backdrop of intense media scrutiny of the speeches of his pastor Rev. Jeremiah Wright. A wiki search on Rev Wright seems to suggest that he has been a proponent of black separatism. And with Barack Obama having strong relations with Rev Wright, this was a ripe issue for the media, and, dare I say all the Obama critics. Surely, the critics might think, the election would witness him playing a race card.

And how did Obama respond? He didn’t dodge the issue of race, of racial discrimination. He didn’t disown Rev Wright. He simply stated a truism that hot heads and despots always forget – that in such sensitive issues, nothing can ever be gained by being exclusive; that even people with blatantly biased views deserve a hearing. Because these bias are not the bias of an individual. They simply represent the microcosm of the society we live in. For the society to be progressive and harmonious we need everyone to work towards common goals, which in a broad sense are goals of equality and equal opportunity in the true sense (emphasis – equal opportunity in the true sense and not race based opportunity).

Unfortunately, not every politician, not in USA, not in India, will go the Obama way. Some will incite the divisive nature of the race (read caste for the Indian scenario) issue in order to polarize votes; others will simply sweep them under the carpet and let it be fodder for idle speculations and lighthearted quips.

Let’s now move towards South Africa – a country that espoused apartheid in face of condemnation from rest of the world. But that is history. Today, South Africa is changing, and changing fast. Their policy makers are trying to provide more opportunities for the underprivileged (read colored) community. A system of reservations (similar to India, in case of jobs and education) is being implemented and this has made its way to the world of sports also. The South African cricket board has a “transformation policy” that has certain “targets” in way of number of colored players in a cricket team. A noble aim, considering how people of color had been treated in past. All was well until the team was selected for twin tours of Bangladesh and India. Rumblings started when the team was to tour Bangladesh was chosen. The volcano erupted when the South African squad for its tour of India was announced.

Andre Nel, the big fast furious, in-your-face snarling fast bowler, who is white, was dropped. Charl Langeveldt, the sharp medium pacer who had made a mark in one-dayers, but who seemed to lack the “zing” of a test match bowler was picked. Langeveldt is not white. Nel was disheartened. He reportedly started thinking of quitting. Langeveldt was traumatized as well. After 5 years in the international circuit, playing regularly in the one-day cricket team, having access to the best coaching facilities in the country, he had been labeled as a “quota” player – an underprivileged player. This was a clear implication that he wasn’t considered good enough on “merit” for a test match, but was condescendingly chosen. Charl Langeveldt subsequently withdrew from the squad stating he was too emotionally drained at being thus labeled (unfairly). A genuinely decent person like Langeveldt didn’t deserve such treatment. Nor did Nel.

Rather aptly, the South African journalist Neil Manthrop, in his column, commented:

“If 1000 South Africans entered a road race, it would be incumbent on the organisers to ensure that everybody had decent shoes, that everybody had access to water stations, physio points and everything else that goes with road running. And it would also be right to set aside the majority of the 1000 places for disadvantaged runners, most of whom would be black - say 700. But the one thing you can't do, if you want to preserve the race's integrity, is stipulate how many black runners must finish in the top ten. And in cricketing terms, the top 10 is the national team”

Unfortunately, there are very few good men left in political leadership positions. Most tend to be like the South African cricket bigwigs – people who try to pacify their supporters (or vote banks). The Barack Obamas of this world are the exceptions.

We need to understand that deprivation and discrimination are not the one and the same. Sure, in a number of cases they are strongly related, but they are not the same. Deprivation can be targeted using financial means. Money can be invested in the poorer schools. Investments can be made in prisons and efforts made to guide those who were sucked into a murky world through poverty. But the issue of discrimination is one that has to be sorted out in the mind. To end discrimination, the mindset has to change.

In Obama’s words:

“But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union. For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.”

As Charl Langeveldt showed, as the South African cricketers (led by Ashwell Prince – yes, he is black too, in case you wanted to know) showed by passing a resolution condemning quotas in sports, the world is maturing. The majority of us would accept that wrongs have been committed in history. We would also accept that two wrongs don’t make a right. We would re-affirm our dream, phrased so aptly by John Lennon in his song "Imagine':

"… Nothing to kill or die for …
Imagine, all the people
Living life in peace.
Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one.”

I do believe that a large majority of us, the citizens of this world, are mature enough. But the question is, are our leaders mature enough? Have they managed to chuck away their vestiges of selfish goals of staying in power? Have they stopped deluding themselves that a world divided is the world best to rule.

Ironically, it seems, now most of the leaders have to be led.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A footnote:

A March 2007 news article titled “Obama record may be a gold mine for critics” makes for interesting reading. The article starts off listing some of the “controversial” activities and voting tendencies of Barack Obama. But a careful reading shows that one fact repeatedly surfaced – no matter what Obama’s personal views be, he was always inclusive in his style of functioning – he always gave everyone a fair hearing. And this characteristic resonated again in his speech.

Personally, I give a thumbs up to Barack Obama – he spoke of issues openly and with finesse that should better be put under carpet by vote savvy politicians. If the world is to enter a golden era, then we need honest men at the helm. This is not to say that I give a thumbs down to the other candidates – I simply have no interest in American politics, but I do admire Obama’s strength of character.

The metal warrior

As the turmoil of life passes on,
A new dawn emerges on the horizon.
Each day one learns to live with pain,
And as we learn, life becomes serene.

Aye, I am not prattling and beating a can,
The fire of adversity doth really forge the man.
Things came to naught, took blows on the chin,
But I still stood upright, yeah that’s in my gene.

Fights I fought and my heart did I crush,
Yet never breathed a word, lest it create a hush.
All this to bring a smile on a pretty face.
You all know whom that face doth grace.

John Cahn, Willard Gibbs and Hume Rothery,
Were the persons who went before me.
We all loved the same pretty face,
Metal research is what the face does grace.

Fights I fought and blood I gave,
When I am gone, it will be emblazoned on my grave.
Here’s one who lived without fear,
And made alloys that resisted wear – he’s the true metal warrior.

Art, science, and a muddled mind of mine

Yet another of those weekends, spent in the metallography lab, where I was polishing another of those stubborn samples. I had been working on the sample for an hour now. The lab was pleasantly cool compared to the summer heat outside. This, coupled with the hypnotic droning sound of the polishing wheel, set my mind wandering, rather incoherently.

I could hear my professor from undergrad school drilling into my ear “polishing sample is as much an art as it is science”. Damn! That should have been good for me. I am a fairly decent artist. But this was one form of “art” I had absolutely no knack for. I cursed the sample for the umpteenth time and drifted into thoughts of the other forms of art that I was reasonably adept at, namely, pencil sketching.

Animals were my favorite subjects. I remembered the little fawn I had sketched as a 13 year old, which my art teacher had said was good enough to be put up for an exhibition. And that brought a silly smile on my face – thinking of babies, whether human or animal, always brings on those silly smiles on my face, dunno why. “Yes”, I told myself, “my animal sketching skills aren’t that bad”. And then I thought of the (attempted) self portrait – my latest artistic creation, a week ago. That was horrible. I had showed it to my labmate and asked him to identify it, and after a long hard look he had said, “You know, he sort of resembles our prime-minister” (our = chinese in this case, since my labmate happens to be from China). I winced in chagrin as I thought of this. The sample wobbled apologetically between my fingers. There was a slight “plop” and all of a sudden, my fingertips started feeling warmer and warmer.

Again I indulged in soliloquy – “I am not going to give up on sketching portraits”, I said. And I resolved to sketch one of my idols, Richard Feynman, once I was done polishing the sample. Feynman was a genius. He was a fantastic physicist, and it is said that three of his works – quantum electrodynamics (QED), super-fluidity of helium, and studies on friction at atomic scales – were good enough for a Nobel, although he got the Nobel only once for QED. But Feynman, apart from being a scientist was a superb artist too. As I thought of sketching Feynman, I thought of one of his anecdotes. Those days he was learning to sketch from a friend called Jerry. They struck a deal. Jerry was to teach Feynman how to sketch. In return, Feynman would teach physics to Jerry. Here is an excerpt on this from Feynman’s biography:

"I practiced drawing all the time, and became very interested in it. If I was at a meeting that wasn’t getting anywhere–like the one where Carl Rogers came to Caltech to discuss with us whether Caltech should develop a psychology department–I would draw the other people. I had a little pad of paper I kept with me and I practiced drawing wherever I went. So, as Jerry taught me, I worked very hard.

Jerry, on the other hand, didn’t learn much physics. His mind wandered too easily. I tried to teach him something about electricity and magnetism, but as soon as I mentioned electricity,” he’d tell me about some motor he had that didn’t work, and how might he fix it. When I tried to show him how an electromagnet works by making a little coil of wire and hanging a nail on a piece of string, I put the voltage on, the nail swung into the coil, and Jerry said, “Ooh! It’s just like fucking!” So that was the end of that."

As I thought of this anecdote, I started laughing like a jackass. I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. And my labmate’s voice floated “Pratik!! What are you doing?” Good question. What was I doing indeed. Reverie broken, I saw that the sample had popped out from my finger, and was lying on the table. And there I was, polishing my finger nails against the polishing wheel. It was easy to understand the plopping sound, and the warmth at my fingertips. :-)

I realized why I wasn’t such a good experimentalist. Like Jerry, my mind wandered too easily. I pretend to be a scientist, and actually manage to do some science too, but deep down perhaps the core is made of a different clay.

The sum of small things.

A dreary day drew to a close. It was almost midnight, and I was planning to hit the hay fairly soon, although, normally midnight isn’t all that late an hour for me. A nice numbing sleepiness was slowly beginning to cloud my mind. The last vestiges of the first draft of a pending research proposal remained; and the raging debate in my drowsy mind was whether to plough on for another half an hour, or shut shop and go home.

And that’s when the phone rang. Someone was speaking to me in Oriya. The voice sounded familiar, although I couldn’t recognize it immediately. And then all of a sudden, everything fell in place. It was a childhood friend of mine, who had recently moved to Milwaukee. It was a pleasant surprise indeed. We had a nice chat about the world at large, about our lives in US and about the halcyon days of our childhood that seemed increasingly getting tinted with sepia and chrome.

The one refrain that crept in was the increasingly hectic pace at which life was moving, nay, hurtling along. A poem, which we read about 14 years ago during school days flashed through my mind. It’s a lovely poem called “Leisure”, by William Davies. The sum and substance of the poem was how men missed out on the simple pleasures of life in an increasingly hectic world. Somehow, that struck a tender chord somewhere within – and got me thinking about the small details which made life so fascinating.

Those were days, when a few innocent blokes would head off into the countryside, riding their rickety bicycles. And we would stumble on a decrepit building. For the next few days, that would be our fortress; many a sunsets were enjoyed together from atop the “fortress”. Today though, leave aside countrysides, I hardly ever step out of the main university campus. And when I do, it is with a chip on my shoulders – that I have to travel around. Have to. Why “have to”? Somewhere down the line, the free wheeling spirit started ebbing away to such an extent that enjoying the simple beauties of life has become more of a conscious effort. These days, we discuss nature and all its beauty. Hidden in these discussions is a stifling sophistication – a sophistication whose origins lie as much in hearsay from “sources” including colleagues, travelogues and media, a conciousness for the need to unwind, as much as from our own experience. How starkly this contrasts with the naiveté of days gone by, when the cooing of a pigeon would result in us imitating it unconsciously, even as we indulged in other tasks; when the sound of flowing water would draw us towards the stream automatically, like a magnet drawing an iron. We were nature’s naturals then, without being a Touchstone.

Adrift from nature, even the behavior patterns have changed. The small niceties of life remain unacknowledged. Today, birthday wishes often get acknowledged only through a single bulk mail; flash back to late 80s and early 90s, such a behavior would have been a cardinal sin. Birthdays were what we kids waited for all year round, and to treat a birthday so lightly was something sacrilegious. Something as simple as sharing books or music cassettes was fun. These days though, share a musical with someone, and it is often days before he or she cares to listen to it; and another few days before he/she thinks of acknowledging it, by which time it becomes hazy as to who shared it in the first place.

In a world powered on more by money and "success", we keep losing out on something which is much more priceless – namely, the simple pleasures of small things in life. The sum of small things keeps piling up. And just as the integral of an infinitesimal quantity dx equals a big finite x, the sum of small things equal a huge chunk of joy, a lifetime of joy in fact; pity, that this is exactly what we lose out on today. Oh! for the innocence of yore and Auld Lang Syne.

The easy going gambler

It was my early days in Ames. It had been a hectic morning - any paper work always is hectic - with all the check in procedures, although, to be fair, the folks handling the entire thing were very very helpful. Having finished my lunch, I headed off to the department, eager to meet my PhD research advisors and labmates for the first time.

Our research group was small and nice - 5 graduate students and a post doc. "Hi, I am Pratik." An innocuous enough introduction on my part. Others introduced themselves too. When asked my full name, I replied "Pratik Kumar Ray". An eyebrow was raised; a slight smile flickered on a face. And I, the ever observant (??) fella, raised an enquiring eyebrow as well.

Pat came the answer from my Turkish labmate - You know, "Pratik", in Turkish, means "easy going", and "Kumar", in Turkish, means "gambler". And thus, the easy going gambler was born.