So I grew up believing that all researchers should be wearing white lab coats, have at least a few bruises from accidents in the laboratory and have crazy hair styles and crazier life styles. Yes, I expected them to be mumbling random nothings to themselves when walking down the street, oblivious of the world staring at them. Researchers fascinated me. Particularly since I had not met any in real life. Einstein was research personified. (Till I saw wikipedia.)
Well, I didn’t know growing up that I would ever undertake research. Although even in high school I thought I should do this. But the passion I felt inside was drowned in a poor academic record, the lack of information on becoming a researcher and the extreme lack of courage in expressing the wish to explore this as an option.
And here I am today, pursuing a doctorate. Sounds fancy. Ph.D just doesn’t have the same charm to it. Over a period of years, degrees have become unimportant. But the fascination for the crazy doc image hasn’t gone. I do sometimes (many times) feel the urge to colour my hair blue, or wear uncoordinated shoes, just so that I look more like a researcher. But then I know that doing that would just miss the mark completely.
In the last two weeks, I have realised why the popular image of researchers is that of crazy, absent minded, self absorbed people. I have been desperately looking for research participants, and I have had to often resist the temptation of walking up to random strangers walking on the road, or in social gatherings and asking them if they know someone suitable. I jump at the sound of a word or phrase that links in any way to my work, and everything else often seems so mundane and unimportant that I don’t like to pay attention. My mind is at its attentive best when it gets inputs about my work. And yes I can be found muttering. Only, I do it when I am alone.
“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?” – Albert Einstein