19 till I die

2012-01-18T10:44:00.000+05:30

In Conversation

Me: "We're cool. I'm not keeping accounts."

Person B: "You're a good man."

Me smugly: "I know!"

Person B: "I take it back."

Me: "I still know."

:)

2011-11-17T23:17:00.000+05:30

Affected Affections

In my bed solemnly I lie
Thinking of how time flies
It's been seven years
Since Sushrut was my roommate
Together we studied, roamed and ate
Today he called to say
His Dad's lungs are filled with fluid
That Cancer is gargling them away
I feel his pain
I feel his angst
The misery of tied hands

I spoke to Dhhakkin recently
I've known him since I was three
We've cracked the same jokes
Shared interest in birds
Had nothing in common
And still been brothers
The day he got a job
The day he got a raise
I thanked powers that be
At least some justice I got to see

Amma's smile and Papa's jokes
Noshi's rants and profound thoughts
Support my being, in my inner space

And then there are people to deal with
Who are fickle and unkindred
We chat
We joke
We congratulate each others' acheivements
We revel in profundity

Somewhere, sometime I learnt
This cheer is affected
The lesson made life simpler
And yet you are as protected
From lonliness as astronauts
From vaccum
In a wooden shuttle in deep space

I like my shuttle
Unaware... Unsure how long it'll last
Almost weary of the impending bust
No constructs of cheers
No walls of wood
No affectation of affection will save me
From the seering frigidity,
The dismal desolate vacuousness
That the Primal atom might have felt

2011-11-17T20:45:00.002+05:30

Dreams Series - 1

I LOVE dancing and tango is such a refined experience. Fine people looking oh so fine swiveling to subtle melodies is charming, relaxing and leaves a sweet buzz. You see beautiful, you hear mellifluous, touch warmth and you inhale human and the body integrates these sensations into soulful rhythms. There is more life in each second on the dance floor than say, in the lab. With these sensations, and the cigar after, I went to bed. And a very vivid dream blanketed my being.

It was a strange dream. I was in a room by myself. It was a sparsely furnished hall. It was definitely homely and comfy by me. The sun shone softly through what looked like lacy curtains. Someone came in to get the place ready for my stay, and left. He gave me a sense that it was a temple's accommodation. Made sense, the place looked pious, and yet scarcely spartan. A beautiful bird, the more elegant than I have ever cared to imagine appeared walking around the room. It looked like an artists impression of a hoopoe's, parakeet's and a delicate woodpecker's offspring. It just kept walking around, like it was looking for something. I offered it my finger to perch on and we became as comfortable with each other as our skin and feathers. I played with it for what felt like all the way unto evening. And then I fed it something and then it started walking around looking for more food again and then that's all that it did.
While I was watching this Hoo-para-pecker busybody around, a girl walks in, in what could only have been the plainest, softest most comfortable white cotton T shirt ever made. It didn't glisten like a new shirt, it just looked ever-fresh. The shorts were good, but a non descript shade of cream. I knew this person. Someone whose company I enjoyed cautiously and looked forward to, but not overtly. Seamlessly, the evening, without a night, turned into morning again. And then we just sat or lay, close together or across the room (not necessarily respectively) in that fresh spring morning. I have no idea from where or when spring slipped in. There was some talk, maybe and the silence was comfortable. It was strangely like being with me with a different appearence and personality and SO much more appeal. That can't qualify as me, but still.
Hooparapecker came around from time to time, and its silence became a part of the company. It pecked on my fingers now and then. It didn't pain, I just felt the pecks. Somehow, its being there was reassuring. I'm not sure reassuring for what though.
And as suddenly as the times had been nice, it was time to go. And I was on the road until my car broke down. I then realized I was in Pakistan. A roadside mechanic was helping me out. It was just like India, only the men were in Pathaan suits. And then...
Cars in the street racing to take people to work woke me up. And the dream ended. Its probably not worth this much deliberation. It had no plot, it wasn't juicy, it had no punchline. But its a dream I want to share. Maybe just because it gives me something to write about. :)

2011-11-17T12:03:00.001+05:30

The Frigid moon

The evening was warm
The breeze was nice
I liked the Moon
Her smile was spiced

She glistened like gold among the stars
She glowed softly
I didn't see Venus pass
She looked at me and I held her glance
Dazed like a boy of fourteen
Struck by her charms

We saw her spin about heavenly bodies
She convinced me though
I had her on a leash
It was I who held her
From darting off to Jupiter
That it was me she craved
Or so she raved

The Earth popped up in discourse
And then she wept a drizzle
It's the earth that makes her dance
It makes her shine and dims her glow
The earth is hers eternally
And this, I should know

I just wanted the smile
The frolicsome joy and blissful gaze
Through the city and through the haze
On bouncy and on humdrum days

The wind turned chilly
She turned a stern grey
Behind a building, inching her way
The winds slapped my face
And she didn't care
For the strength to match the earth is rare
The the night went on and my neurons tussled
Wondering where the dove for me is nestled.

We'll find out! :)

2011-03-17T13:25:00.001+05:30

My experience at the Passport Office

Life had promised a delightful vacation. Two and a half years of slogging made me lose my fizz. Each workday had the aftertaste of a hot, sweet, terribly sour and flat soda. And I thought to myself, this holiday is going to be brilliant and I deserve it (maybe). The day I land, I'll fight off jetlag. The next day I'll chill with my parents and pack for Poly's wedding (which did turn out to be a lot of fun!). After the Visa Interview at the Foreign Consulate next morning I'll catch the train to Bangalore. The only impending problem was: Who will collect my passport bearing the fresh Foreign Visa stamp while I'm away at Poly's Bash?

But as a lot of you know, everything had a rosy tint about it, until my Visa interview. Actually, the nightmare had not begun at counter no. 11 where I gave my interview to some American (who looked like the last guy had pissed him real bad). It was afterwards, when that Indian lady at counter 16 told me why I was there. She asked me to fill out the 221G form. And even that wasn't what made my heart sink to my gut.

I knew what the 221G was. Several of my friends had got it. At my last Visa interview, I said I studied how the mouse brain is formed, and avoided getting the 221G. My colleague who was from the same lab and did very similar work and interviewed about the same time said "I study Developmental Neurobiology". The eyes of the interviewer widened, and she is supposed to have stammered "We'll keep your application for further processing". He was unable to leave India for at least two months.

This is what landed me a glorious 221G: "I study how fruitfly eggs are formed". Notice how this sounds utterly trivial and hardly worth studying. That is what is was meant to sound like. To rephrase what I do, "I study stem cell maintenance mechanisms in the context of Drosophila oogenesis." While, this may have evoked awe in any (non-American) semi-educated and educated individual, and made at least a few aspiring developmental biologists drool, this would definitely have gotten me a 221G at the consulate. Well, apparently even fruitfly ovaries are a security threat to the Land of the Free.

But like I said, I was disappointed but not disheartened by the 221G. It is what that lady at counter 16 did next that sapped the happiness from my being, like Rowling's dementors. She took a closer look at my passport. I was still in a jetlagged homecoming stupor, and didn't feel a threat. And then she gave a very typical... and very irritating, wannabe spunky, urban, wannabe movie star, reactionary exclamation: "What is this?!"

My passport. My dear passport! She held it by the lamination coming loose from the cardboard below. It was like your dog being held by its hind leg over a fire. That is when I imagined a profuse nosebleed. And she said "Here's our notification to you. This should help you get a new passport."

Gulp!! A new passport. Did she have the slightest friggin' clue how much $#!t it involves? Clearly she didn't, or else she wouldn't have done it. My experience with my first passport left me a lot stronger. In the two and a half years it took me to get it, my patience must have grown ten fold. My persistence grew to stubbornness when things had to get done. I deduced the Murphy's law through everyday life. This is of course, a very positive retrospection of a fairly harrowing experience :) I must clarify though, people get their passport within a month at most times, or weeks, if they are lucky. I needed to get one within two weeks. I had to see what could be done.

So as I walked out of the Consulate saying to myself "WOOOOooooooossssaaaaaa..... lifeisgoodlifeisgodlifeisgoodlifeis." It's hard to change a conditioned response to a stimulus. Mine was, and is one of terror to the procurement of a passport. But then, I was aware all I could do was to get a new passport. Everything else shouldn't take too long. So with rythmic breathing and a cool head I went told Papa, who was waiting outside the Consulate. He's past the stage of being grown up. Between you and me, I think he's entering his second childhood. His reaction to this news, was as if he had gone bankrupt, lost everything, his life's work... trashed.With great apprehension I called and told Amma. She never seems to have gotten out of the 15 year old phase. She had pretty much the same response, except she was a lot more vociferous. So... amid a great debates over whether I should attend Poly's wedding, I weathered lectures about keeping my things safe and taking life more seriously in general. All instructive monologues were fine. But when I was told (it wasn't suggested) to get this over with and maybe skip the wedding. I put my foot down. I needed a break and whole point of moving this trip by a year was to meet ze whole famiglia.

But fun times pass like a breeze and so did Poly's wedding in Bangalore. I went to a travel agent in Hyderabad the day after the wedding. They refused to touch the case. So did a second, more recommended travel agent. Without ID and proof of residence, they didn't want to touch the case. I didn't have any of those because I've been away from home for so long. You'd think that replacing a damaged passport would not require these things. Afterall, it has all the information you need and been approved by a government agency already. But red tape, as I later learnt is a universal evil. You can run from it, but you can't hide.

So I filled a normal form, not knowing how long it would take me to replace the damaged passport. It took three months in one case and a year in another that I know of. I was at the point of $#!tting bricks. The application was done online and the website gave me an appointment at the Passport office. When I turned up at the office at the "appointed" time, the guard at the gate asked me to get in line with the others. The "appointment" had practically no meaning. I saw the mile long line outside the passport office. And the bricks plopped out. It would take days just to get to the point of submitting an application. Abandon strategy!

The only way to arrange for a passport within a week was to get one under the Tatkaal scheme. We needed an officer from the Indian Administrative Services (IAS), who could vouch for me through a Verification certificate. Thanks to to help from resourceful acquaintences, I managed one, feeling all special that I could get in touch with "important" people. I was a week away from the decision on my Visa. So something had to happen... and happen fast.

In memory, that weekend was the most tumultuous at A-21 Faculty Qtrs. Tempers were running high and everything I did was fair game for rebuke. And when we went to the Tatkaal section Monday morning, the notion of being special, shattered. I saw a crowd, about as dense as the Majestic Bus stand in Bangalore, running around with similar or better recommendations than I had. The que was not of a few hundred people, just tens of scores.

After about five and a half hours of waiting to submit my application, the guy accepted my application. He asked for documents that were no where on the online checklist. Finally, towards the end of the day application got submitted. But those five and a half hours were interesting.

This sharp looking lady was sitting quite confidently in the center of the office. She must have been about forty. I somehow remembered seeing her on DD1 many years ago, but couldn't really place her. There was this bald and bearded well dressed gentleman who was confidently shaking hands with the Regional Passport officer's personal assistant, the Assistant passport officer, the guy collecting Tatkaal applications, the security staff at the office and virtually everyone of importance in that office. He later stepped in to chat with the Regional passport officer himself. This is very unusual. It's only the higher ups in the IAS that walk in on the Regional Passport officer. They usually don't chat with the "small fry". This man was doing it all. I figured he must be a VERY influential tout. Most others don't have that kind of a reach. I didn't see this man on the subsequent days. Then there was this other lady with two teens. Their passport had to be converted from a minor's passport to a "major's" passport, as opposed to an adult's. hehe. It struck me that I also should know another Public Relations Officer at this office. He was the one granted my request at the Thane office. I always wanted to thank him for his help back then, but I never got a chance. I didn't know If I would.

The day ended. I was happy with the progress. The application was submitted and wheels were in motion. Or so I thought. I met someone else in line the next day, who hadn't received his Tatkaal passport for a year! DAMN! These were supposed to be quicker. There was this other guy who received a passport with his first name and parents' names but someone else's last name and address on it. What was the printer thinking of when he made that passport... Salad?

I was there to see if this quick process could be further expedited. I needed an audience with the RPO. One has to go through the Assistant Passport Officer for this. Once he is convinced that your need is genuine, he takes you to see the RPO, who decrees whether thine passport shall be bestowed sooner than thou had thought.

The Assistant passport officer, let's call him Krishna, came across as exceptionally rude. He was unnescessarily mean to Papa. The first time we spoke, he pretty much brushed me aside. I let it go. While I waited in line outside the office, this lady was in tears and telling her story to anyone who would listen, or wouldn't. She had submitted all her documents in time. Krishna needed a new, essential but missing document everyday, for the past 15 days. She was telling this story to some IT guy whose nephew's passport wouldn't be renewed for some reason. That ten year old wouldn't seem a security threat if you saw him, though some of them might :) The kid couldn't meet his parents for months because his "Tatkaal" passport application was stalled. A stylish man touching middle age in a goatie needed a renewed passport for a business trip. There was this one guy, about my age who seemed to be roaming about the office all the time. Didn't know his story. It was quite a crowd and everyone had their own little story. Mine seemed the least significant of them all.

Around lunch time, I saw the Public relations officer from Thane in the corridor. Let's call him Mr Subhash. He had been the deputing deputy passport officer in his absence. I approached him and he politely motioned to me it was lunchtime. I persisted and opened in Marathi " You might not recognize me but you helped me get my passport in Thane. I really need it for my GRE and you helped when I needed it most." and so on. He seemed delighted to hear Marathi. Papa said to him that I talked about him often, in Hindi. He continued talking to me in Marathi. I understand why he spoke Marathi. It's like me wanting to speak Hindi in Dallas :) And then I showed him my damaged passport that US consulate wanted replaced. He looked at it and said "Can't you glue it back on?" "Not if the US consulate has asked you to replace it." I replied. And then he said something I'll tell you if you ask me in person.

Lunch was over. Because of the agitation being staged for a new state: Telangana, the crowd had thinned out in the office, quite a bit. Krishna called people by name and lined them up for the "audience". He had each individual's file in hand. It was vaguely reminiscent of Schindler's list. The guy with the goatie was behind me. The loafer was next and the 'Salad' guy was somewhere in the mix. The girl ahead of me had to give the GRE in the following week. She had no idea what was wrong with her application. It appeared she didn't even attempt to find out. So when "He" spoke to her he was terse and asked her to find out where the problem is. When it was my turn, with mild histrionics, he said I could collect the passport the day after. The elation was hard to describe. As I walked out, Salad guy smiled and gave me a thumbs up. And I walked out of the office feeling great. But as I'm conditioned to do these days, I wanted to make sure of the passport collection process. I hung around till the end of the day when previous passports got handed out. All I saw was a proper que outside Krishna's office. In terms of graphs, it was a scatter plot of people earlier and now it resembled a curve. The guard asked me to leave soon after because I wasn't collecting that day. Hopeful my stars were well aligned I went home to share the good news. It was striking how efficiently everything worked that day, when there were just fewer people.

It turns out that Sharp lady I talked about was on some cable channel for a couple of years recently. I haven't watched TV in years so, that's not where I remembered her from. The bald bearded guy... never saw him again.

And it also turned out that my passport didn't turn up in the printed section the day after, or the day after that. Goatie man's passport didn't either. Salad man's friend, who as I discovered was a journalist with ToI, launched a complaint against the gross inefficiency of this office. I'm surprised others didn't. Salad man had still not received a corrected passport. The loafer: Razzaq was a great guy who wanted to some training from his company abroad, but couldn't because of passport troubles. He still hadn't received the passport. In short, everyone in that lineup with me, who left that day full of hopes, was playing the waiting game. But luckily, Weeping Lady did receive her passport. \\m//

The last day was a Friday and I was supposed to get it on Monday anyway. I tried to make sure my file was in place at least for that day. For that I spoke to Krishna again. Before I could swim across the scatter plot of people, I had an opportunity to ponder everyone's role in that office. His Highness was in meetings all day. He was constantly receiving important people and their phone calls. He seemed like an upper level Public Relations Officer. Krishna on the other hand was mobbed by people ALL day. Putting oneself in his shoes isn't difficult. Being followed all day long by people who need a favour will drive me nuts within a day. Everyone else was apathetic or just very irritable. Krishna was doing His Highness' work singlehandedly. No wonder he was a little abrasive.We probably need ten of him and fifty more counters to accept and process applications. I had decided to thank him when I'd receive the passport in spite of him. He took me in another lineup to Mr Subhash, who was very nice again and said affectionately "Looks like you won't leave me alone". He was signing the files for passports to be handed out on Monday. I mean this in the best way possible, but I hope I never need his help :)

The Foreign consulate was supposed to reach a decision on my Visa that day. Nothing had changed on the website. I thought I'd wait till Monday. Afterall, it's only Indian Beaurocrats who are a pain. Everyone else is Oh So Efficient. Monday, I received my passport. Krishna was rude again. I changed my mind about thanking him.The Visa status hadn't changed. I was surprised then. In fact, so many days after I have my passport with the Visa Stamp in hand, the website still hasn't updated the status :) In fact I sent them an email regarding this very issue and they asked me to keep checking the status change on the website. ????? Oh well.

So, this particular passport office is a mess. The system is designed and equipped to handle far smaller numbers with more flexible deadlines. The sheer number of applications everyday, is crushing. It is a miracle how anything gets through that office at all. It is fair to complain about the state of affairs, but it is essential to do something about it. I did what was in my power: put in suggestions. I just hope someone reads them. Someone just might execute them too. When the Tata's take over in April, things might change. For better or worse, it's hard to say.

The day I received my passport, I bid adieu to Goatie man, Salad man, Razzak, IT guy, the Guard, in fact even the guy at the tea stall outside the passport office. Funny how you can connect with people in the same distress boat over a few days of seeing each other everyday. What is funnier is that in the academic environment of a lab, where a lot of people are in the same distress boat, they occasionally manage NOT to connect with people. This will make an interesting question in human interaction and addressing it using game theory will informative. But never mind nerdy me. All in all, my strength from the previous passport experience was reinforced :D

* Names have been changed and omitted to avoid any possible embarrassment to anyone.

2010-11-22T11:54:00.000+05:30

Ailing Curiosity

bibeebeeBEEP.......bibeebeeBEEP..........bibeebeeBEEP..... hmmmmm.... guud morning...... what time is it?...... nearly seven... no biking today.... mmmmmm.... let's sleep in.... zzzz.... maybe not.... If Jawahar Bhaiyya wakes up... it'll be an hour before I can use the bathroom. Alright! Let's leave my island bed and cross the Great Barrier Reef of Clutter to get to the bathroom...

And so started my Sunday morning.

People are astounded by how/why I wake up early on Sunday. Frankly, I have nothing better to do. The world averages eight hours of sleep a day, a third of its lifetime. What a waste! I wish we could do away with it entirely. But what would I much rather be doing? Something worthwhile perhaps. I would workout or go biking maybe, but it's not happening today. The other worthwhile thing would be to get some work done. ....yeaaahhhh..... Work! I need this experiment done. It'd be cool to see the phenotype. And based on where that takes me, we could do this... and that and oh yes, that too. Wouldn't it be sweet if I saw this... Yooohooo.... (strange echoes eerily like boss's voice) *Don&Jay... You're not sleeping, so stop dreaming. Quit slacking an get back to work*

Although, it would be cool if I can find out how Bre1controls stem cells, while its other as yet unestablished partners in crime have such different affects. But wait... I need to make this DNA and that fly, put horns on this protein and a tail on that... yada yada yada. The cloud of slithering lists of experiments hides the sunshine of joy.

Somewhere around the afternoon I take a break. It's been like this well before the qualifying exam: Long days and longer nights spent in lab, fretting over slippery steps to the big experiments. I've been doing this project for a long while now, and quite frankly, I've stopped asking questions. I don't feel very curious any more. The course of my project was wisely mapped out very early on, chiefly by the Boss. I'm following it, and veering slightly when I have to. It's a very efficient plan, well thought out and structured, almost corporate in its design. That's how people who have gotten anywhere, function: systematically and disciplined. One needs the right tools to do the right experiment. I'm in the arduous process of making them. 'Arduous' only begins to describe how it feels. At times the disappointment of failed attempts is suffocating. To add insult to injury, I did everything right. So I do everything right, again, and hope it works this time.

Well, on my break I run into Brent. He's a well built guy of 28 (I think). His eyes make him look fifty, his teeth, sixty. He's in lab most of his wakeful hours. His boss has framed covers of several top tier journals in his office, all baring data from the lab. Brent himself has his name on a couple of them. I've seen his talks. They are packed with findings (data). He is a brilliant researcher and will probably do really well. I ask him how he is. He says "if I can just finish this western (blot) I might do something with my Sunday."

At this point a good clean result gives me as much joy as gossip to gossip mongers and sighting one of five survivors of a species to birdwatchers. So a Sunday spent in lab is like preparing for a hopefully pleasurable date. You never know what it'll turn out to be like.

I'm a graduate student, in the business of finding things out. We're supposed to be lean mean meme machines. It takes an innate urge to uncover and connect nature's dots. That urge is ailing in me right now. Curiosity is really truly suffocating within. When one has to troubleshoot every single experiment the light of the end of the tunnel seems to fade. Einstein's famous saying "Subtle is the lord but not malicious" seems like such a load of BS. It's like being stuck in limbo. I tell myself to keep at it. But then, when your boss sits you down and says "We have to make progress... if that means spending less time in the lab, so be it." Your PI telling you that feels like watching vultures circle above you, when you're still not dead.

But then, when things start to work, little by little, one feels encouraged. Getting a single reagent ready for which you have struggled for months feels like progress. It's at least one step closer to that experiment which'll give me a peek under nature's "subtle" shroud.

Honestly, I didn't finish this post in one sitting. I think I'm getting there. The emotional reinforcement of each successful experiment (I need so many of them right now) is twice as strong as each setback of a failed experiment. I really really like what I do and hope to be able to keep doing it. I can't let that curiosity and sense of amazement at new finding die. Data God please smile upon me. Give me a reason to live and nurture curiosity.

2010-02-19T06:53:00.001+05:30

In the Here and Now

I'm a dreamer. I dream of outstanding discoveries, splendid mountaintops, flying, snoozing on a sheet of wind off a cliff, relishing good food, familial bliss and more. I dream of their fulfillment at least once during the course of my life. I hope to be able to afford that sort of fun and still be a good son, brother, friend and so on. I've come to realise that realistic dreams have a price tag! They need money. You can't trek to Mt Everest, or snorkel in Lakshadweep for free. Being in science doesn't give you much money. Added to that, is the fact that to stay afloat in science you have to invest MOST of your living hours in work. So I work as much as I can in the hope that life can ration as much fun as possible into my time on this planet. (Here I hide the fact that I have nothing better to do than work). Like many people I know, you work as hard as you can right now, so that later on, life can be cushy.

But somethings nudge me out of that expectant daze. Somethings make you forget the glees and worries of the past and future. You are grasped by the Here and Now. I have felt this before and felt it again yesterday at the Argentine Tango class. The perfume of human touch and warmth of a smooth voice hung in the room. Lilting notes of Nuevo Tango flitted above the polished wooden floor and Andrei and Kathy swivelled to them... in beautiful, sensuous harmony. Andrei teased playfully with complex moves as she followed with knowing grace, responding in ways that made her ten times as gorgeous. Andrei would pull a surprise once in a while, make staccato transitions into steps and halt after a quick couple of moves. Kathy would follow and smile in enjoyment. The enjoyment of not knowing what move the next heartbeat will bring. As the beat picked up, they glided over the dance floor pivoting, swirling and turning in unison. Like their souls connected at her palm and shoulder blade. And then, at then the song finished. Though they reached an awesome finale, they could have gone on. Rather, I wish they would have... at least a little bit.

Tango is a beautiful danceform. But this thrill of not knowing what the next moment will bring is what captures me in the present. I've felt the same while playing table tennis with Yunus and Iliyas in 11th and 12th. You never knew how they would spin and place the ball. It was the same thrill when Kanitkar was at the crease on the final ball against Pakistan and scored the four runs needed to win the match. I guess the suspense of the result of an experiment can come close, but the pain in getting to that point numbs it a tad.

And after the dance is over, the ping-pong ball returned to the other court, the match is won, and a meaningful experiment is done, I return relishing the moment that was. But only for a while. You keep looking forward and working so that in time the moment will return and enrich life with a new experience like a sensation of weightlessness, a new landscape, poetry and the pleasure of finding things out.

2009-11-13T01:31:00.001+05:30

To my trusty darling

mmm… I love you gorgeous

You are wider than you are tall

Your single arm, bends and all

You have no hips

You have no shoulders

A lovely heavy bodied boulder

Bitterness spills over

at your wide, black-lipped mouth

I see through it, in and out

Your brick red ravenously freckled skin

patched with white

Glistens in the sunlight.

Your teeth are missing and so is your hair

Your legs, your eyes… they’re just not there

You smell at the end of a day’s work

I don’t clean you, for I’m a jerk

You’re perfect I couldn’t love you more

No Romeo, no Ranjha felt such amor

You make me warm, when I’m cold

You wake me up when my eyes are sore

You do not yap, you do not bore

You do your job and say no more.

I like my laptop, but I’ll replace it

Like I’ll replace the furniture and rug

But never you…

My beloved Coffee mug.

2009-11-11T11:31:00.004+05:30

Been here a year now - 2

From DBS to DBS, the transition from Department of Biological Sciences, TIFR, Mumbai to Division of Basic Sciences, UT Southwestern, Dallas has personally been one of the biggest steps in my life, so far. It's a different experience and I seek to find out why. In so doing, drawing comparisons is inevitable. It would be presumptious to claim that this an all encompassing analysis of anything. Like everything else on this blog, they are my private views. I'll try and describe how my experience here has been vastly different from home.
The UT Southwestern Campus spreads out over a fair area. It's about a half an hour's rapid walk across. But in spite of the sprawl, it shoots up vertically, which is not typical on Texan landscapes. Dallas downtown, the nearby office district has taller building but nothing else sprouts higher for tens of kilometers. It's more a conglomeration of three hospitals and five, sorry... now seven massive research towers. They are beautifully planned but the architecture is sadly unimaginative. TIFR had two floors dedicated to biology, which would be equivalent to a floor and a half here, spacewise. And there are 72 floors worth of space exclusively dedicated research and teaching. It is hardly the typical sprawling US university with spaced out dorms, parks and football fields. But as far as I can see, it serves its purpose.
The first couple of months here were charged with the desire to prove myself in every possible way. When the first semester began, we grappled with the core course. There were lectures, paper reading and problem solving sessions. The bigger idea is to broaden the students' horizons whichever field of research they pursue. I had never before read a structural/protein biology or bioinformatics paper. This course gave me the opportunity to understand and critique these papers as well as solve problems. I found paper reading sessions very useful. Experts in the field sat with us in small groups and patiently made us analyse data in ways we might not have. The lectures were good in stocking up on knowledge that I would otherwise never have gained. Classes were were goal oriented, well prepared for and well taken. Besides, they had the quaint feeling of classroom teaching all over. The problems we solved were not particularly challenging. About seven or eight of us got together and discussed questions and possible answers and then explained one problem to the whole class of eighty. It was striking how differently people could interpret and solve the same problem. I think these sessions were an interesting and effective way of getting students to communicate their ideas to themselves and outsiders. We all realize that is such an important skill in science sooner or later.
Of course all was not quite as rosy. Half way through the core course people realized that they could get through a lecture without the required reading. You could walk in prepared to describe only one figure in the paper presentations and get away with it. Whether you were present at the lectures didn't matter. You had access the lectures audio and powerpoint at all time.
Many people slacking on the core course, were up to something possibly more important. They worked as much as possible in their rotation labs. Though there are 350 research labs here, some labs are more sought for than others. You'd want to be the PI's top choice, and you'd slog to be it.
My rotations were interesting in many ways. I got the feel of being in different work environments. The HUGE lab, unlimited resources, "talk to me next Friday" experience in the of Dr Luis Parada was very different from the fairly new small "don't know if I'll get the R01 grant" labs.
And then I ended up joining one of these new small "don't know if I'll get the R01 grant" labs. The thinking that went into this was simple. I was jumping into a whole new field. I was not as comfortable with the techniques as I'd like to be. The field was appealing, the lab had money and projects. Small lab bosses tend to be more engaged with their students than administrative work. Obviously, they are concerned about their students' welfare when their own well being is intimately linked to it. And I lucked out. The people in my lab are nice and the boss and I get along well. The Boss gets as excited about a new result as I used to be, when I solved a new and difficult math problem eons ago. All that remains is for me to pull some splendid work. I smile to myself when I think of it. Only time will tell what happens.
I love the interdisciplinary feel of UT Southwestern. I sit down with Sudeep and discuss prospects of studying interactions within transcription complexes. He works on actin polymerization and I look at stem cell maintenance. We keep spilling beautiful ideas and critiques in discussions/presentations about things as varied as immunology and signalling.
There are talks on cutting edge work in all sub disciplines of Biology. Some leaders of protein biology, signalling development and neuroscience walk these corridors. And, they are more accessible than you'd imagine. They'll probably take a lecture in one of your courses. You ask them a quick question in the lift and they'd be happy to answer it. If the question was smart and you were a first year, they might even get you coffee to try and recruit you. Does this recruitment theme sound familiar to anyone? :)
Hehe... I remember, a cousin was all happy when she was in the ladies' the same time as Shilpa Shetty at Mumbai Airport. I think I felt like that when the Nobel laureate Dr Joe Goldstein was sitting next to me in the shuttle. The realization I had heard four of this years' Nobel laureates give talks in the past year, struck me the same way. Samuel Pfaff and Gord Fishell whose work was the basis of some research in my previous lab, gave talks in the seminar room on our floor on consecutive wednesdays. Their new work has the same broad theme but vastly different approach and techniques. A recurrence in most talks is the number of non americans doing the work in these labs. It amazing how the first world gets to direct the world's best minds into doing what people are only dreaming of everywhere else. The bounty of resources, a furiously target oriented work ethic, proximity to reagents and people and sadomasochistic peer pressure might have something to do with this. And there are other reasons, that we can talk about when I know them.
I dream that at some point in time, Indians aspiring for success, excellence and professional satisfaction will never have to leave the country. Something is being done right abroad that we can take lessons from. I talked about the lack of opportunity in "A Graduate Student's Anguish" about three years ago. At least in Biology that is being remedied. New Institutes, like the Institute for Stem Cells and regenerative medicine at Bangalore, Translational Health Science and Technology Institute, Center for Vaccine and Infectious Disease Research, Center for Child Biology, Center for Chronic Biology might be a step towards giving bright researchers the opportunity to do well. I am hopeful for IISCERs and 19 Central Universities that are coming up. It is upto us, the people who prove their worth at these temples of progress, to make it all worthwhile. But of course all this way beyond the scope of this article. I want to go back home... which is what all this pondering is about.
On a very different note: While trekking, chaay, going on walks and moon gazing used to be my staple entertainment little over a year ago, since this August, working out, exploring restaurants, amusement parks, Texan landscapes, good movies, B movie gatherings and photography keep my leisure busy. My friends have been kind. I'm their luggage until I don't get my own car.
It's fantastic how cosmopolitan educational institutions are here. On my own floor, we have little countries. There is USA where there are a lot of European and Chinese people. There is a little Chinese village too. We call it the Chen Lab. There are twentyish people of whom only two are non-chinese. My lab is the UN. There eight people. Two Chinese, two Indians, a Turk and Egyptian (for an exotic feel. LOL! ) and then two American men... who call the shots. [Disclaimer: This was a joke]
This can have interesting consequences. I can now greet people in six non Indian languages. At a dinner table with seven people, we realized all of us had different native tongues. This was fun: People in the lab were talking about greying hair (I wrote about these aunties a while ago). One of them is a fastidious practicing Muslim and her scarf covers the whole head except the face. I asked why she was bothered because she wears a scarf all the time. The second I said scarf she was flew off the handle, absolutely furious... PISSED!! I had no clue she would get this upset by my mere reference to the scarf. Later Alpay, my turkish friend told about the animosity between conservative and liberal Muslims in Turkish Society. I would never have known!
I'm learning things too. Tango is my window of opportunity to step out of the lab and meet people who are not into Science. Yes, believe me you... such people exist! :D Only, they are mostly medics. Lol!
Out here, people talk... a LOT. In fact, silence in a group of people is considered awkward. Gotta yap! I'm trying to learn Spanish, but the Mexican cleaning staff "no much talky". I'm learning how to talk about absolutely nothing consequential for tens of minutes. I remember a conversation where Alex and I were talking about a hypothetical situation. We took opposite sides and half an hour later, we switched and went on for a while. Yapping (not gossiping) intelligently, without picking on anyone, is a tough mind sport. Brain numbing at times. Hats of to those who can do it, like Americans... and my relatives :D.
But there is something I need to learn even more urgently. That is giving good talks and asking good questions. Given that my qualifying exam is six months away, my first thesis committee meeting is three months away, the lab meeting is a month away... and.... shit!!.... I have a test tommorrow, I better get at it. Konjum Mainakale Amigos!

2009-10-01T08:46:00.004+05:30

Dhananjay's Law of Availability

Girls are either taken or untakeable.
The most elusive exception justifies the pursuit.

(DaPunkyBlog March '07)

The Selyunin Correction

There are no untakeable women. It's just a matter of timing.

(Anrdey Selyunin 2200 hrs 30th Sept '09)

2009-06-12T06:54:00.006+05:30

The Midweek Crisis

ooOOHHhhhh ggGAWDddd... It is Wednesday evening! uggghhh... It's been three days. Three whole days, since I spoke a sentence outside what work requires. Not a joke, no chit chat, no hanging out over chaay. Just the knee jerk "Good, how're you doing?" to the guy who walked on without bothering for an answer to his "Heyhow'reya'doin'?". Occasionally on Monday morning, there'll be the "..... Soooo... how was the weekend"..... to swollen eyed Shane who's at the next bench. He can be kind. He'll say "Not much. Just relaxin' at home." Ah! The vividity smothers me!

Others in the lab have their own comfy cliques. The ladies always have things to talk about. Usually its their husbands and other people's kids. I overheard "You know, having babies is infectious, you see one and you want to have one". That has killed any drive to make conversational inroads into this clique. The other clique is impenetrable. It might not have been, if they didn't so fastidiously stick to Chinese. More people might have wanted to talk to me, had boss not taken away the Post Doc's rightful experiment and asked me to do it. Me, the black sheep, is now asked about where that antibody is kept and "What happened with that experiment?"... and that is ALL.

It's summer time too. That means, no free food seminars. These seminars are a watering hole for grad students. So again, no real 'socialising' during the week. Things are very different from most Indian Universities/institutes. No one hangs around a moment more than necessary in labs. They all have kids, wives, girlfriends etc to rush to. The PhD students too. Back when Girija(ji) told me about this, I thought the problem can be easily worked around. Afterall, I thought, you'd need just a bunch of friends to loll about with, the way it was in the hostels, or Mac in TIFR. Girija(ji) was so right. The others have people at home, and their isn't much of an Indian herd here yet.

And in the grand city of Dallas you are physically challenged without a car. UT Southwestern doesn't have a Deccan Gymkhana or Churchgate nearby, the way Garware College and TIFR did. There's no Z bridge or Marine drive to stand at and watch the gorgeous traffic go past. No Roopali to make the best coffee companion ever. There's no where to go to, and no way to get there. Imagine my handicap!

And so here we are again. Wednesday evening! The weekend is usually bliss with the skyping at home and conference calls with pals from school and TIFR. Three days have past since that dopamine rush. The married ones are too busy to talk, even for free!! Being at the bottom of this pit doesn't hurt as much as the slump in getting here. Scraps on Orkut and the odd one line email saying "Hi" are the IV drip that keep me stable. Thank you internet. The online TV shows and movies were helpful, until a public email came along threatening of expulsion for misuse of internet facilities. Books were my poison, until I picked up "On how to be a Scientist".

I'm playing psychologist now. I'll give this non-existent problem, a name. We'll call it the Midweek Crisis. The midweek crisis is the Wednesday evening stab of lonliness, if you will. You might want to speak. Just to listen to a human voice in light conversation. This condition is a step away from randomly calling 1-800... service nos. People do this. They call a Hoover call center when there is nothing wrong with their Eureka vaccum cleaner anyway! Just to talk to another human being. Blame it on the hectic weekly schedule, the pressure to perform or whatever you like. But it's there, although not wholly unsolvable.

Dhananjay Chaturvedi PhD (in Psssssssycology) is working on a cure. I've fixed a weekly wednesday tea gathering in the Rosen lab break room. Over tea we talked about things in the lab, Nepal's political issue's and Papa's weekend trip to Dallas (which I'm very excited about)Yesterday was helpful. Hopefully things will get better in the lab and I'll shed my Black Sheep guise. Hopefully, there'll be more people speaking Indian languages around me, more people just speaking around me. Hopefully...

2009-04-06T08:09:00.004+05:30

As Each Day Goes By

Mitochondria conspire within me
Insiduously Sparking off free radicals
They eat my flesh in a gnawing rage
Inevitably, pushing me to age.

I'm still a young and feisty soul
With a zest for life and set goals
I long to understand life,
I want to ride across continents
and run from pit to peak,
I want to meet new people,
See new cultures
And move the masses...
But there are other things
For which the time has passed
Time slipped by, just too fast.

Age is like true love,
Of course I'll never get it!
Until it smothers me on the sly
Leaving me with shriveling skin and a drying heart
Rickety knees and a frying mind

So Age isn't just a number
But surely, a phantom future
It'll someday be the present
I brighten it now by living it up
For I'm as aged as my thoughts
As old as my deeds
I'll keep them youthful
And let the phantom age.

What a coincidence... my 24th birthday approaches! :D... Kidding. That has nothing to do with it.

2009-03-02T11:34:00.004+05:30

Calling 0091...

I wanted the next article on this blog to be an analytical comparison between the UTSW grad school and TIFR. The article is on its way guys... Someday!
But then I want to beat my chest in public. I want to shout out how much I miss India. It isn't just about missing home. It's a LOT more. Somehow evry sense feels deprived
I miss being in an Indian environment. The people speaking a familiar language (Hindi, Marathi, Telugu, Bangla...). Discussing a familiar sport : Cricket! (People I've met here think that cricket is still a five day game). People in a bustling hurry to get to work. Chatting up with the sweeper about how his kids are doing at school. Randomly conversing with passengers in a train about how Manmohan Singh is Mrs Gandhi's puppet; the virtues Rabindra sangeet; (in Marathi) about how the Bhaiyyas (which includes me, I guess they didn't realise) are the canker of Mumbai; to North Indians about how this a free country and merit gets rewarded; how Dalit muscle flexing muscles will make mediocrity pervasive; how to this day a Chamar won't be a given a glass of water in villages everywhere; Katrina ka thhumka in RACE, Salman being a c#$%^a with Aishwarya, Abhishek Bacchan's lack of expressions in Sarkar Raj.... all of this in languages that form my thoughts, flesh and blood. I miss them pouring into my ears.
I miss seeing all the aunties getting together and gossipping about Mrs Chandrashekhar's engineer son starting with a pay pack of 12 lakhs and wondering why Mrs Chaturvedi's son went in for a BSc ("... JUST a BSc I tell you!"). And the uncles sitting down to discuss how the new Vice chancellor's policy might just screw us over! And the very sight of a full family, with the kid wailing to run away and the mother holding on absent mindedly. Although to be fair, the Hispanics here make up for that sight! There is always a small herd of them around the corner. Probably it's the food. American cuisine has few highlights. Mexican food is rich in flavour. Mexican food keeps the kids close to Mommy.
The food works on me too! I TERRIBLY miss the food. Eveything looks big and barely has taste. Indian banannas are so much sweeter than the yellow tree stumps from the banana republics. Where is the desi tamatar? One gets Brazillian mangoes that may as well be avocadoes. I'll say it again! Nothing beats Amma's cooking. I don't have to speak of the special dishes like Jhor Bhaat, Kadhi Chaval, Dahi Bade, Chhole, Rajma, Gadd, Kheer, Panjeeri, Gujiya... The simple Arhar, Chane (esp with the skin), Masoor, Urad (both UP and Bengali variants) ki daalein, with Lauki, bhindi, karela (sukhe and bharma), baingan (sukhe and bharma), kaddu, gobhi alu, palak, patta gobhi, kheere/tamatar ka rayata, Aalu tamatar/Arbi ka rasa (with sev and Chaubeyji ka masala), and hot, soft rotis rollng with Ghee, or thin and crsip parathhas are to die for. Even the snacks at the stalls like vada paav, uppeet, utappa, butter masala dosa had a memorable flavour. I used to think that the puri bhaji Pancham Puri near CST, Mumbai was a far cry from good food. And then I paid fifty times as much for almost the same stuff, at Taj Chat House in Dallas and the flavour was not even close. You're curious. Why I don't cook myself then? The truth is I do. I pay exquisite attention to cooking a nourshing vegetarian diet. But it tastes like cattlefeed!
There is magic in tapri chaay. Ganesh, my classmate here, and I often think of prospects of starting a small tea stall by the bus stop! I'm sure I'll attract the Desi public. Tapri chaays all over the country have three things in common : they are brown, liquid and magical. There flavours and aromas vary all over the country. They vary from college to college, Univ to Univ, train to train, square to square and city to city. The Rs1 - Rs5 glass of warmth works magic with every sip. Memories with friends over this cup of tea are happy and undying. Somehow the chaay experience is so deeply linked with friendship, relaxation, jokes... the good times!

I think I've made this sound as if I have nothing to appreciate about this land. There is tonnes actually. The work ethic, landscapes, the cars, traffic rules... So much so that it'll be a whole new blog entry someother time. I just miss home. I'm not the first one to do it! Everyone at home sleep well. I envy you. :)

2008-08-25T18:26:00.004+05:30

Veery Real

Khrishen and I were walking towards the car. The students parking lot is at a distance from the Student Carrels and Khrishen's lab. I ogle at the first car, a BMW coupe parked right in the Faculty parking. I almost want to touch it. But then my eyes veer to silver Lexus posing at a different angle. Oh... and how could I miss the Porsche GT Carerra, purring silently in the other corner. I'm thinking "What sheer propulsion it'll give. Raw, smooth power!"... "Do you want to touch it?" sneers Khrishen in his Mauritian French accent. Not quite Poirot, but pleasant anyway. "Nah... it's the thrust of the engine beckons me" I retort... and we smile.
Khrishen is a year into the graduate student life and I a day into it. Judging graduate student lives is tough. At twenty four, people have set ideas of what constitutes a good day. Khrishen is happy with his Sunday. He did some clean immuno-staining today and gathered three other papers supporting his hypothesis. I was reading papers... one paper... all day. We had to read this paper about the worm C elegans for the Genes and Development thread. I was floored. I know the mouse cortex. The fly is fly, I admit. But this lowly nematode is quite something! Horvitz, Brenner and so on were magicians... Amma and Papa were happy this morning when I spoke to them for half an hour, stupid Noshi was asleep... And we were thinking about these "important" things, happy with what a lot of people would call a geeky, nerdy life!
Khrishen's car is a nice Nissan Sentra. It makes his Schumacher turns well enough. I saw one of those the day he picked me up at the airport. The car nearly flew off the ramp. Nearly. But he doesn't drive rashly. He drives at the normal Freeway speed, 80 miles an hour. Everyone does! We scowl jealousy as Mercedes, BMWs and Audies zoomed past touching 100mph and over as we hurtled home in the Sentra. But we are sane PhD students aren't we? We control the primal urge for powerful satiation, like so so many other desires. The freeway is like a playground for automotive enthusiasts. One's need for speed is fulfilled.
I was hugging my bag instead of letting it rest at my feet. It's a beautiful present from a good friend. More importantly, it holds the newest love of my life: A sassy, smart macbook and an iPod touch. I'm lost in a train of thoughts "I like my computer, just what anyone can want.... looks good, is smart and very cooperative... maybe I should call her... shhh.... FOCCUUSSS... so what was that you have to do?... write to Yun Li about the rotation, have you read her paper?.... on what basis do you think she'll reccommend you to Parada you DiCk?! And the paper for tommorrow? You'll look the dumbest in class"...
And just then this less than glossy white car with a black hood seems to be veering funnily to the left, without showing the indicator. I wasn't even watching though aware of the cars moving around me, though we were in the fastest, leftmost lane. Something was wrong. It happenned in a split second. The white car slammed into the door next to my seat. Khrishen didn't even notice it coming. The loud thud bore a lot of force. We were inches from the waist high solid concrete divider. The crash pushed us within millimeters of it. At 80mph, that's scary intimacy! We swerved and got back in the lane. I looked back to see the drivers. They slowed down and went out of sight. The glasses were all intact. Didn't see a dent on the inside. But we had been hit pretty hard. Adrenaline takes more than seconds to set your heart racing. But within those seconds you feel a V8 engine thudding within you.
We took the next exit off the freeway and parked by a closed tyre shop to assess the damages. The doors the right of the car got glued to the body. They wouldn't move. I was thinking, how much cost would one incur for this. It wasn't even our fault. Frigging Junkies! Now how are we going to pick up the new incoming student from Chennai day after? While the car gets repaired I could volunteer to make the phonecalls to apartments for the new guy's accomodation we were planning. So I'll have to do this between classes. I won't be able to do it in the afternoon. And the papers... Shit!
We headed back home. And then it started coming back to me. What all I had experienced minutes ago. I could easily have been organic smush in a metal and concrete mortar and pestle. Had the car edged into us with a fraction more force, I wouldn't be here! And then all the repairs, classes, reading papers and lab rotations would blow to heaven... or wherever.
I started revaluating what I'm doing, why I'm doing it and if I'm truly happy. I asked myself, if I would have died today, would I have died happy or droned on to an unsatisfied pitiable death.
I think I would have been happy afterall. I'm doing what I like, where I like and at a nice time in life too. Not just the people I'm close to, most of the people I know, have little to complain about me. I don't either! Few, if any would think that my death was a blessing to the world.
But then, time is the critical entity that I haven't been appreciating so much. I need to do all I can as best I can as soon as I can! The phrase "Life's too short" and the words "petty existence" suddenly seem to be in perspective. I hope none of you need a car crash to realise this! :)

2008-03-04T00:10:00.004+05:30

An Ode to Colaba Causeway

To those who haven’t been here
I’d like to to say,
You’re missing a glamour-fest
Everyday
For every inch is glamour doused
From Regal Cinema to the Electric House
Bracing the Café christened Leopold
Is a bustling market, fairly old.

Keep your money to yourself
Away from predatory merchants
They lure you with trinkets and T-shirts
And lockets and pendants
And telescopes and DVDs
And other wasteful commodities.

I suggest you trudge along
In your head, sing a song
For just watching is no sin
Plainly, to avoid greed’s din.

You’ll see many things be assured
And many a beggar have endured
But sadly have slapped them aside
Like ticks pricking the conscience inside.

At night you look overhead
And see the sky black and dead
“Where are the stars?”
They ask sans delight
Then look around…
Smile
And bask in starlight

The stars descend everynight
To this streach of road: young and neon bright
They take every shape, colour and size
And boldly drape to please the eyes.

Every sense can be pleased
Once you have your pockets eased
Then sit back
To watch your character teased
By the fawning waiter, the comely sylph
The drug peddler and bullying police

It IS nice nonetheless
Though not as good as it gets
So to one and all I pray
Just for the experience, do come once
To Colaba Causeway.

These lines came to me on a happy BEST bus ride from VT to Navy Nagar.

2008-01-12T22:01:00.002+05:30

The Work Culture at DBS, TIFR: A student's view

I'm being presumptious when I say that all my contemporary students in DBS will agree with this, but a fair fraction does, and that makes these views non-trivial. Feedback hunters... listen up!

TIFR and NCBS arguably offer the best exposure to biological research to their students, the country can afford. The GoI is generous in funding researchers at all stages and levels of their career in these sister concerns. This translates to top notch facilities and hands on experience to all students during the course of their training. The scientific prowess (publication ability) of scientists at these establishments is unquestionable. Their publication profiles are good and the last review of the department conducted by a panel of internationally "BIG" biologists was favourable. Publications are after all the only legitimate yardstick of research output from a lab. The department is scientifically active with regular journal clubs, weekly departmental work presentations (given by student and research fellows) and Annual Work Presentation by the PIs themselves. I'm sure this is what meets the eye of an outside observer. Ah! What a pretty picture?!

It is the dream of most Indian science students to make it to the clique of haloed institutions of which TIFR is a part. It is a very valid aspiration. Not many places have the excellent facilties and money to offer. But let us look at the mechanics of the Department of Biological Sciences(DBS)'s functioning at the student level a little more closely. The faculty of any place on earth will be hard pressed to find a student body more devoted to their work than that at TIFR. Students don't show stress while work long hours. The average time a student spends working in the lab is 12 hours. The lab is not a second home. It is home itself. The student community is sometimes family, complete with its black sheep, scape goats and villainous characters. It is the loose bonding with peers that keeps the suicide rate to zero.

Emotions and physical sensations that render a life human, are sacrificed at the altar of the Data God. Seriously, those are perfectly respectable and the minimum expected work ethics. But(!) His high priests and priestesses play the intermediaries between the student and the eclectic word of the Lord. It must be followed at any cost. Work is done religiously. Why so? Besides self satisfaction, a mention in the Priests' good books goes a long way. They send you to higher abodes where the Data God is more beneficent, or to holes from where it is difficult to emerge. Sacrifices have to be offered to keep the Priests happy. Gruesome ones too... hang on for them.

Health ceases to be a concern. Students lose weight as if it were a lizard licking at your neck. Backaches, calf muscle aches, migranes due to hours of continuous poring over microscopes to meet sadistic deadlines are no surprise. Clinical instances of depression have been reported. Of course most of the psychological stress goes unreported. There is a small number of labs where guidence and mentorship are generously given. Considering that there are nine functional labs at the moment, you do the arithmetic. There are labs where there is no attention from the PI, because there is no PI. There are labs where the PI is permanently busy and therefore inaccessible. Then there is the category of sadistic, blood sucking, slave drivers running labs of zombies striving to get a breath. One subcategory roughs you up for the wild. You feel empowered at the end of the gruelling torture, maybe even thankful for it. The other subcategory is unspeakable in its selfishness and ruthless impalement of students. The will to do science is systematically asphyxiated as a by product of selfish ambition. Nothing seems to stand in the way of it. Data God's stochastic frown on a student could even ruin her/his career in science. There has been talk chucking people because of clinical conditions they might be in. The responsibilty that comes with becoming a "guide" is passe. You take students as "labour" (a doctrine being sold to a faculty member of a different department by one member of the DBS faculty). If students have problems performing, "underperformers" can always moved out of sight and thence, out of mind at any point.

I opine that a student's situation is akin to a mountaineer on a thin ridge high on the wall of a plummetting cliff of advancement, overlooking a stagnated valley, supported by the safety threads of friends, data and luck, trudging along in thin air ever conscious of the treacherous next step. Not all students will agree with this. Wait till their eyes open!

But nonetheless this place has dished out some sharp, honed minds. Like the logic gaging scientific activity through publications, the accomplishments of the alumni of TIFR speak for the system. Certain aspects of the system yet need attention and improvement. Maybe the readers have something to say!

2007-12-09T20:45:00.000+05:30

The Moon and I

Once the sun has dropped to dine

A rock in the sky starts to shine

And I return the smile

For it is the moon, an old chum of mine.

And we gaze at each other

Playing different parts every instant

Once a mistress, once a brother

And then a monster or then a mother.

An untold affection holds us

Awaiting the others varied form:

I'm sometimes pensive, sometimes glum

Sometimes ebullient, sometimes numb.

The moon is so expressive in turn

A crescent of silver, a golden urn

Pleasant laughter, a precocious smile

Angry rubour or sulking black denial

Or sweetly a BIG lump of sugar,

Flying high, in style.

Suddenly then I'm gripped by jealousy

Crying that promiscuity is heresy!

And the Moon flirts all the time

With poets and novelists

And Werewolves... and just wolves

And serial killers and tides.

And then I summon my senses

Reminding me I'm human.

Humans had best be my friends

And not the Moon's terrain,

Or I'll surely turn insane.

Yet, I'll never let this mateship die,

This knot unto myself I tie,

For when all else is gone...

The Loon and the Moon shall live on!

Composed on a cool walk under the beaming full moon mid November 2007

2007-08-31T23:56:00.000+05:30

Witches of Yore: Biologists and Medics today

There were witches then, who used bat ears pickled for thirteen days in lizard blood with armadillo's nails and Lion's ear wax, stirred nine times on full moon days with the left hand to the right hand side and on new moon days, six times with the right hand to the left hand side to create a cockroach with dragon's wings, bad breath and (reference unavailable).

We now have biologists growing human stem cell lines that lie submerged in fetal bovine serum over mouse embryonic fibroblasts, infected with virus (grown in cancer cells, again feeding on cow blood extract) that has in it genes from a fluorescent seaweed (put there with the help of the juice of bacteria that were grown on ferment and rotting meat, and molecular scissors from Escsherichia coli), injected into an embryonic mouse's brain to create a mouse with 10% human brains!(Muotri et al 2005)

Come to think of it, the way genetic material is being cut, pasted and strung together and then popped in and out of cells and then implanted into a versatile repertoire of uterii, the only thing left is for Damien Omen to jump out of a jackal!

Medics are not far behind. Vacanti et al grew a human ear on the back of a mouse. An Assamese doctor was reported to have transplanted a pig's heart into a human and the patient lived on for a week. Organ transplant is as commonplace as Lego blocks. It would seem that there the degree of plasticticity in living systems is great enough to make the legendary Chimera a near reality. Why, one can create two headed frogs at will today! One can make mice that have two "anterior" halves of the fore brain pointing away from each other. Believe it or not! College kids have made bacteria dance to luminous cues.

While the reality of accomplishing such feats is only a little less magical than it once was, questions about how the magic is to be employed is still hangs heavy! Are the nefarious, wicked witches casting spells to make more and more deadly biological weapons in their cauldrons, or are the sweet Samanthas (the lovely lead witch from "Bewitched") stirring up gene potions nearing panacea? Is there a necessity or way to control them?

Any opinions anyone?!

2007-03-23T23:17:00.000+05:30

Dhananjay's Law of Availability

Girls are either taken or untakeable.

The most elusive exception justifies the pursuit.

2006-12-28T10:27:00.000+05:30

A Responsible Scientist

To the vast majority of of the Indian Public (maybe others as well), the person in a white coat pouring a lustrous green clear fluid from one raised test tube to another raised test tube containing a bright scarlet fluid, is a scientist! In rural areas where literacy equals education, the concept of a scientist might be a little alien. In urban centres, where in some select schools and colleges, select Science educators work passionately, the notion of science and and a scientist is a little clearer.
What makes a scientist a responsible one? The view of a practising scientist or student is likely to differ from what the society thinks. It should be rewarding to examine both perspectives.
A web dictionary search for the word 'scientist' yields definitions like "an expert in science, esp. one of the physical or natural sciences". The layman's picture of a scientist is critical. It determines the aspirations of the next generation of kids taking interest in science.
The taxpayer's investment is what perpetuates the noble scientific endeavour. His or her faith needs to be kept and nurtured. But where does the taxpayer come accross the goings on in scientific establishments? The mass media chiefly! The occassional newspaper (I personally applaud the Science and Technology section in 'The Hindu') gives people an inkling about new findings in various scientific disciplines. Their interactive columns where 'how's and 'why's are addressed go a long way in sustaining scientific interests of minds, young and old, not necessarily directly involved in Science. However, reports of scientific progress in most high circulation newspapers and television channels are limited to those pertaining to fertlity, libido and warfare. While they cater to basic human instincts of sex and conflict, they pervert the largely sexless non-combative scientific effort.
Radio reaches 70% of the nation. The Bourgeoise are greatly influenced by television. While whole channels maybe devoted to nature and science, the proportion of viewership they capture is peanuts compared to family drama in soap opera. The audio visual input on TV is a big step in spreading what science is all about. The numbers of science students inspired as kids by these shows indicate that they have their role to play, in spite of their small viewership. More than science, it is technology that captures the fancy of many.
Technological products are Science's fashionable daughters. Everyone wants a date with them. Disillusionment results very so so often, like on so many first dates. DDT was touted as the mosquitoes nemesis, man's saviour from malaria around 1939. Waterbodies, swimming pools (with children in them) were generously sprayed with it. A mere 33 years later, it was denigrated as Hell's own poison and held responsible for untold deaths and banned in the USA. Chemical fertilisers were spoken of as the crops' elixir and later besmirched as an environmental curse. Many more such examples exist. 'Oh those lying scientists! They with their fancy testing and all, told us it was all okay. They are the ones responsible for this!'. Can one really refute such allegations?
Universities and Research Institute hold 'Open Day' these days. Members of the public, school children and collegians chiefly, attend these events. Most of them return fascinated by the techniques researchers employ. The odd voice asks "What's point of studying a stupid molecule whose function you don't even know? Sure, there might be two stars going around each other, and the point is...?". "What about those hungry people with no roof to hide them? While these guys waste thousands of rupees on a fly's wing, those people starve and suffer!". hmm... Are these guys doing there stuff responsibly?
Education is an inseparable part of science. It should be anyway! It is the responsibilty of a scientist to ensure that research and scientific enquiry prevail not just till he/she's around but long after he/she's gone. Both of these are imperative aspects of a scientist's job. A fair section of practising scientists think so. So, does the scientist who pays little attention to the development and training of his/her students stand absolved? Enthusiastic students and their prospective employers certainly think not. It is a disservice to society and future generations to deprive them of valuable knowledge and skills that have accumulated through the toil of hundreds of deligent workers and thinkers, thereby making them repeat the whole process and wasting time and energy.
Asking questions about nature and getting answers by logical, repeatable methods outlines the scientific method. Responsibilty lies in asking oneself... what questions are important? ... need they be immediately relevant?... are my methods wasteful or harmful in any way?... does this help anyone else answer any other question?
Intellectual parties exist based on answers to these queries. Some say there is no such thing as an important question. 'We' work to satisfy human curiosity. The resultant knowledge maybe helpful in someway at some point in time and that, frees the effort from the burden of immediate positive social implications. Opponents opine, few in number though they are, that a large part of purely fundamental research is a pure waste of resources. Others, chiefly non-scientists, question the ethics associated with particular fields, embryonic stem cells being one of the one of the most recent ones. The agencies deciding these resources so far have been liberal with the horizon of questions whose addressal they fund, chiefly buying the first argument. These are predominantly public agencies. Yet, the freedom to choose a question is restricted to the set that are 'hot' in the community at that moment.
Private agencies who promise unlimited budgets have obviously a much narrower range of interest. It here becomes clear that the scientist's responsibility of asking questions is wrenched away and replaced by a third party's commercially inclined decision. Often commercial interests overlap with social need. Ranbaxy say, would love AIDS to be tamed, so that it can reap the bounty fom selling the treatment.
Thirdly, methods need to be fancy to attract attention. Attention is what many researchers, just like many others vie for. It gets you one up in the rat race. Their feasilbity is a secondary concern in affluent establishments. Both the effects and outcomes of these methods are subject to criticism. Untoward environmental effects and ethical issues doggedly haunt many streams. The Law and funding bodies judge their validity with finality.
Now, is it at all a wonder that a large number of people in the business are either, confused or callous or both about the isue of responsibilty? To appreciate what the responsiblities of a scientist are and to know what a responsible scientist is, requires deep cogitation after having experienced the life of a poffessional which is by no means as easy peasy as others might think. Passing value judgements on scientists requires weighing a large yet finite number of factors together. I guess you just have to be one to know one!

2006-11-03T14:16:00.000+05:30

Been here a year now!

I’m writing this upon someone’s request. Not that I didn’t want to earlier but I officially have a reason now. The request was ‘tell me about the “I-have-been-in-TIFR-experience”’. I have but a year behind me in this monument that India maintains to honour and perpetuate Science. The experience may just have been like any other to a hardened researcher (other than from Physics and maths; the biologists and chemists understand each others grievances better). But for someone fresh out of a BSc and fairly naive in the ways of research, it has been a roller coaster ride!
A lot of people feel they have achieved something big when they come into TIFR. Most of the time it reflects in their confidence, at times to a point of arrogance. I felt differently (at least from my point of view). From the outside, one perceived it a different world altogether. One expects brainy minds zipping back and forth, discussing weighty issues of scientific truth in its ungarbed, realistic state. Stepping into the campus from the main gate, as the main building revealed itself from behind the majestic banyan, I felt an awe similar to seeing the first glimpse of the Taj Mahal from the first Red gate. All that lore surrounding the great minds at work in TIFR made me feel inspired by even the building in which such high solemn deeds were done. Then of course, once among the crowd and attending the first few lectures and seminars that past near tangentially off my head, the awe deepened. As ill acquainted with the ways of researchers as I was back then, everything seemed the way it should be and I, out of place. Little does one realize in the first couple of days that not even the senior most students understand all of it. But those were the unwise, uninformed first few days.
As a student fresh from college, there was a hunger for learning. MSc students are assigned advisors (read Bosses), without their choice, under whom they are supposed to do their Projects. As has been my habit for long, learning was more through discussions than reading. I tried the same tactic. Unfortunately, the mantra around here is “Find out and tell me”. This definitely is not something any of my teachers had ever told me. When one takes courses here at DBS, one fact glares at you. Coursework is a pitiable excuse for its namesake! Apparently it used to be a lot worse. The rare exception exists. The evaluation however, maintains very high standards (just as it should be). The sad thing is to some students, at least has been to me, this ‘find out yourself’ business comes as a shock. But then, your advisor (Principal Investigator, PI for short) doesn’t seem to worry at all about how your coursework goes. After all the main thrust (30/42 credits) is on your project. You are lifted above the sundry college practicals to enlightened research!
It isn’t a wonder why the emphasis is such. You come to TIFR for MSc and are paid Rs 5000 a month. How many people get that? You had better produce DATA to keep the ‘paper’ mills running. Your advisor bothers a lot not only himself/herself but also you, about this aspect of your ‘education’. The ‘find out yourself’ seems a lot worse right now! This is true especially when you have to defend your experiments every six months in front of the whole department. Dr. K.S Krishnan called them ‘Causerie’ (apparently French for Crow-talk, je ne sais pas Francais) and the name stuck. These sessions are usually objective analyses of the work presented. Of course, the same hands that create great sculptures can equally well strangle someone. Often the PIs let loose what appears to be a vicious and sadistic academic attack on the poor student. Such instances are humbling, sometimes humiliating for the person at the receiving end.
But such is the education disbursed at TIFR. Education is too broad a term to fit this goings on. In fact a lot of things are misnomers in my opinion. This is vocational training aimed at producing researchers. Education is something just happens on the way, on your own accord. Come to think of it, that is the way it happens in most ‘good’ places: Select talented people (my case being an exception). Give them the resources and exposure to quality research in the form of top scientists within India and abroad. And motivate them to do a good job. Again, the motivation can come as an incentive or a threat. You constantly feel the latter in most labs here. The incentive is generally that satiation of your own drive that, at extreme points, tends to break down. It seems only to highlight a popular prevalent policy “What doesn’t kill you, leaves you stronger”. See how sweetly “find out yourself” fits in? You sometimes feel the other guy just doesn’t want to help you. The person is forgiven. He or she has data of their own to produce and defend. In the end, you emerge a survivor: a survivor who has had to break Olympic records to save his life. You know what questions to anticipate at presentations. You know where to look for, not ask for, answers. You know how much the people know and need to know about your work. At a later stage you appreciate the nuances, beauty and elegance of experiments and drawn inferences. You value time and organization like never before. Stronger you certainly are, if alive.
The campus is a major part of this survivor’s life support system. The sea face is something TIFR could absolutely not exist without. Nourishment for the soul pours in when the sky turns scarlet at dusk. Its grey rainy garb is inspiring too! Oh, but why forget the light blue on a sunny morning with cottony wisps floating about? All of these sheltering a lush green lawn manicured daily. The joy of viewing this vista while sipping good tea in the air conditioned West Canteen makes the entire trauma worth it. Full marks to the gardners and consmetic maintenance section! In the main flow of life are sugared in memorable moments you get to pass with lab-mates, department-mates, TIFR-mates and sometimes people outside TIFR as well. My seniors at TIFR have been wonderful people. I found people to look up to among them, and some others, not quite. At most occasions, the whole student gang behaves as a single unit. A student’s substance, depending on how much grit he has, is usually moulded in a most productive fashion. The feeling of being here is unique. I hope I still have something nice to say after the remaining two years. Only time can tell.

2006-10-01T16:25:00.000+05:30

Irony

I awaited a local
At Andheri of all stations
A nagging feeling
Testing my patience

Mumbai's funny thought I
Where shit and gold together lie
The best groomed people
Their overfed pets
The sad plagued people
Envying those pets

Afore me a sick man lay
Harbouring as many worms
As straw in hay
Blistered skin with infected wounds
He was pain personified
What more do I say?

To his right was a mutt
A broken leg, it had no hair
Fungal eczema everywhere
Ticks at its eyes blinding it
Its suffering too gave you a scare

The sick man saw the mutt
He got up, his temper amuck
He couldn't move much
Very little energy as such
But upset he visibly was
He seemingly liked not dogs

A diseased body shooed another
Drove it in someother direction
Both in hunger and in pain
The sufferings of both were just the same

Both were stray, both were sad
Yet an arrogance one of them had
And then, what happened next was sadder stil
There came a dog, not at all ill.

A pomeranian on a leash
Its clean white coat
Worth quite a dote
To sick man's arrogance
It was an antidote

It snapped at him
And he recoiled
The dog careful,
Its coat unsoiled

It then strutted away
With its tight slacked mistress
Leaving the poor sick man
In greater distress

It was a cruel episode
It left my head humbly lowed
A cruel joke if at all
How lucky I am, I saw it all

Is it only I who see?
No one else in the city?
Is it lost, the abilty?
To notice the agony and irony?

2006-08-15T21:28:00.000+05:30

Company

3rd September 2004

This cool dusk post monsoon,

I wish for company, really soon

I can't sit still and watch the moon

For lonliness lays me a loon.

Every evening this does happen

My concentration does slacken

Saturation with books reflects on my looks

My nose alert to what elsewhere cooks.

Yet my conscience it presses

Due to various sorts of stresses

Work I must in excesses

For acaedemic grade muscle flexes.

But Company I crave

Be it a Saint or a knave

I do not rant and rave

Why must this evening be grave?

I might fancy a lover

Be it Preity or another

Spending time is all the matter

But let it be meaningful

It makes the interest fatter.

Still, there is literature

Way appealing than viral nomenclature

Though its quality could a be fixture

Books provide company I believe

Alas! The sort I wish to leave

It had best be a friend

Conversation with whom would have no end

For him, my schedule I'm willing to bend

Or better still, time suspend

For the while my pen sufficed

Kept me warm, not a nerve iced

But the ultimate company, I've realised

Is me, myself, the solitude from paradise.

This poem was written in tense times when my future was fairly uncertain and dangling in front of me.

2006-07-30T13:12:00.000+05:30

Published in the IIS Newsletter Jan 2006

A Graduate’s anguish

As the nation marches towards vision 2020, the scientific community in India is impeding its own progress. The Intelligentsia of India bears the sacred task of furthering knowledge and learning. A better job can be made of it is a prevalent feeling. The situation is likened to a racer who just can’t utilize the abundant fuel available to it.
The student component of an educational institution is as important as any other. Being among students here, one easily realizes the tremendous potential that lies in our human resources. The fact that Indian students contribute majorly to the world economy speaks volumes about our potential. Unfortunately, these diamonds in the rough aren’t quite being polished. It must be acknowledged that primary and secondary education in India can do a lot better than it is doing now. However, the importance of higher education can’t be neglected. Denying training to virtuous students can be quite a folly. I try to explore the facet of this situation that applies to graduates in Life Sciences under the broad issue of higher education in the country.
A fresh graduate who devotes himself to Science is often disappointed to note that there are not many ‘good’ options. Indeed, only a fraction of worthy students receives a ‘good’ higher education here. Colleges in country have begun to show promise at this level. But how much they can manage in their meagre resources is anybody’s guess. In stark contrast “hundred crore” rupee grants are being handed out to haloed research institutions for furthering science. The commendable research that comes out of these places can’t be maligned. But questions regarding how much of their grants are invested in nurturing minds for the future can certainly be raised.
The philosophy that “a large number of mediocres can’t replace small number of brilliant minds” holds water. It is unfeasible, however, to take the “small” number so literally. Two, four, seven, ten… are the number of students our five star institutions take in every year. Merited Universities in the country have a larger intake though. It’s apparent that Universities that can educate students in larger numbers as well as or better than the research institutes do. Besides, the large faculty and student force might be able to do a lot more science as well. With better infrastructure (and faculty) in Universities, we might take one step ahead to solve the problem of underutilization of talent.
Fundamentally, sequestering fine brains out of access to students is as much a sin as withdrawing funds from education itself. Research does progress along with teaching, a lesson that a few people fail to learn from foreign universities they strive to collaborate with. Numerous research institutes are coming up in the country to do highly focused research, and they do it too. But why doesn’t it dawn on anyone that these aren’t the ideal places for learning. Often, the institute is a factory, publications are the product and students are labour. Whatever they learn is picked up by the way and no attention is paid to broadening their horizons. A university setup on the other hand, while solving the problem of numbers to some extent, allows for Scientists to impart their knowledge and more importantly, their way of thinking to students keeping them honest at the same time.
Bolstering University education might be a one of the many solutions us students are looking for.
While this shift is conceived and materializes, students can only hope for the best, perform as best as their environment allows and hang on. For surely things will change for the better and we’ll be there to make it happen.