Confessions of an all-nighter

As a grad student, you can choose two out of three things in life for every semester: good grades, good sleep and good socializing. However hard you try, you can't get all three. And the fine print on the good grades is that sometimes you have to survive through tons of assignments, project deadlines and other bizarre TA issues, for which you need to stay up overnight. The funny part of putting in all those hours of thought and effort is that you're not grudging the assignment. You like the class, you love solving the problems, and you actually feel happy when you're done tackling the brain-teasers hidden in the problems. But the only catch is: they require too much time and effort. And add to that the innumerable bugs, logical errors and infinite loops that are so silly you want to tear your hair out (I've been bald four times over)... staying up all night trying to make stupid programs work doesn't seem such a bad investment after all.

Midnights are magical, you know. You keep scratching your head, wondering how on earth the software actually works and where you're supposed to edit it to get it to do what you need. When bored of staring at the screen with "a extends b" repeated in its million variations, you open your mail and suddenly feel glad to see two new emails. You start talking to the guy sitting at the next machine and discuss the obscure algorithm while you gulp down water from the "chilled" bottle you brought in more than two hours ago which has now actually become warm. Then, against all macho and guy code rules, you start walking towards the toilet and your buddy follows you there, while a heated debate is underway on whether the set union should randomize all training instances or or leave them alone. The undergrads or other friends who pass you in the corridor give you weird looks as you try to prove your point furiously by drawing random double-sigmas and epsilons in the air, calculating statistical proofs out of the blue.

When you come back, suddenly a few sections just work as you spot some stupid mistakes. You wish you had a newspaper nearby which you could roll up and hit on your own head to give a thwack. You're gleefully happy. But then, those two dreaded last problems keep coming back to taunt you: like a skimpily clad seductress who keeps daring you to go up and win her. Somewhere inside, there is a deep fear that you will not be able to make the code work to crack them, but the determination is equally strong to get them done! You set about re-reading the problem statement, the book, google searches: anything to get a clue about what that darned question is all about.

Past 3:00 a.m., the problem literally gets you. Dropping eyelids and the constant chatter of the guy at the next cube who has got stuck at the same problem and is desperately trying to wriggle something out of you leaves your brain confused. You keep shaking your head and keep talking to yourself: the mind in a complete state of chaos. You need some coffee! Ah, the magic of the sodium lamps, the empty winding roads, the lone car speeding down the lanes with hip-hop music blaring from the open window... you trudge along the sidewalk humming to yourself. The dream continues as the iPod pours "Suraj hua maddham" into your ears, and unknown to your own self you suddenly master the loop of the Yo-yo you're playing with. You walk into the coffee shop, pick up a paper at random and order your coffee. "How to avoid date-rapes" catches your eye, and you begin reading that article as you lazily sip the coffee. Suddenly, almost halfway through your cup of coffee, while you are reading about the common tactics used by the guys to lure unsuspecting girls, the idea strikes! "Of course... ", you wonder aloud, "it should be the root mean square, not the mean of square roots!", and rush through the rest of the coffee like there's no tomorrow. You wave the waitress with her eyebrow raised a hasty goodbye and rush back to your post!

After being *almost* there, the code refuses to work again. This time, you swear aloud, your voice booming through the empty lab. At any other time, there would have been a thousand eyes suddenly looking at you. At 4:00 in the morning, however, there's nobody except you and your friend, and you don't really care even if there's someone listening. A little tweak here, a little trace and debug there, and then it works suddenly! You feel on the top of the world... you wish there was someone you could shout out to and proclaim your victory. Unfortunately, no-one claps for you... you sit there and begin analyzing the results of the experiment, writing them in the report and drafting up the write-up, 'nicely'. You have a final look at it all, and then just submit it: "What the hell, I can't look at this shit any more --- if it suits him, he'll give me my marks: else I don't care". You look at the watch --- "God, it is 7:30!!". While wondering how the time flew away, you step outside the lab and suddenly realize there's sunlight. Busy morning traffic swerves past you as you keep walking back home; a fleeting smile plays across your lips with eyes lit up in the joy of having conquered something. You come home, change into loose clothes and drop into your bed. The eyelids close heavily as you keep dreaming of the little lines of code you've just completed to deserve this rest.

P.S. - For those interested in a slightly different version of the same story, Praveen has a very good write up about that. I've been there done that, too! :)

Why I love career fairs

Minus the books in the picture (click to enlarge), the fruits of two and a half hours of career-expo-touring in the university career fair:

• 6 T-shirts (yes that car in the bottom left is one)
  
• 1 cap
• 3 USB drives
• 2 free iTunes track gift cards
  
• 4 yo-yos
• 4 dancing light balls
• 8 mint packs
• 2 digital calendars/alarm clocks
• 30 different good quality pens
• 12 highlight pens
• 2 cloth frisbees
• 2 packs of playing cards
• 1 pair of binoculars
• 2 flashlights
• 1 stapler
• 5 fighter jet stickers
• 8 post-it note bundles
• 2 photo holders
  
• 1 mouse pad
• 1 calculator
• 1 electronic pocket Sudoku

Not bad, definitely. Fruits of labour, eh? :)

Losers, Inc

Update: this is the link that triggered the following tirade: http://www.telegraphindia.com/1070910/asp/bengal/story_8298531.asp

We proudly celebrated our Teachers' Day on September 5th. Speeches were held; some fat-ass minister came and inaugrated the occasion by lighting a lamp or two. I'm pretty sure, wherever you were, you had elaborate ceremonies. You showed off your lifelong gratitude to your 'teacher'-s by presenting them bouquets and feeding them a few samosas and Pepsi. Our honourable President, Ms Pratibha Patil, also presented the National Teachers' Award to a select few teachers. Oh, lest I forget, it was "for their lifelong contributions to the nation". Only, in her case, instead of cold samosas and Pepsi, she handed over a few certificates and there was a ceremony for an hour or so. The rest, as they say, is history.

The grand message of the ceremony was, "You lousy teachers... you have been teaching all your life but you still haven't learned your own lesson! Lets see if we can drive the point home". While the ceremony was on, everything had been picture-perfect. Meeting the Prime Minister was a very pleasant occasion. The President of the nation came off the stage to greet a physically handicapped Sidhnath Verma. Ahh the picture-perfect kodak moment... imagine the example set before a million cameras! But off the record, between you and me, we've been milking these poor old cows --- who cares about them anyway? When you need to load them into buses, herd them together: "Jaldi karo warna hotel khud aana", and the cattle will hurry into the buses braying and bleeting. Poor old suckers --- they will find a way to come and get their certificate. "Give me enough medals and I can win you any war", Napolean had said. The fine print on the official agenda was, "Give me enough certificates and I will get you enough sheep, err ... I meant teachers". Isn't it enough that we arranged for their accomodation? Who bothers taking care of them for the rest of the time anyway? "100 dial karke complain kar le. Dekhta hoon kya ukhad lega...". Roughly translated, what the greatest democracy in the world meant to say to these poor old sods was, "So long, suckers... now stay happy with that certificate!!".

You keep reading everywhere about people deciding about their return to India after their stint in the US, and whether it relates to their gender. A more fundamental question is, does India really want you back? Even after 37 years of service, the system doesn't really want to honour you, it is all a show-off. You have been a loser to have chosen that career for yourself while you were young. These ceremonies are just a reminder about the terrible mistake you did when you were all charged up and wanted to serve the nation and blah blah blah yada yada yada. Sigh, the childish emotions of the youth --- they want to change the country! Haha, you flunkeys and turkeys and also-rans... you actually thought that they had realized the "noble" work you had been doing? You bummers, What they had realized in reality was that the time was ripe to rub salt into the wound! You actually inspired a few more losers like yourself and made a few fresh additions to the sheep-barn, didn't you? Hahaha... well, we all thank you on behalf of a billion people: we've had good entertainment for the hour which was the crowning moment of your careers. We'll find another fresh batch next year. Till then, keep working and teaching, losers!