Reader’s Digest
76 july 2019
I sighed in frustration. I knew the
road to earn a PhD would be rough, but
I certainly did not foresee this! But how
could I blame the guard? He was doing
his job. After all, how many 50-some-
thing students do you meet normally?A Flying Start
I had always excelled in my studies.
By the time I completed my Master’s
in Economics from the Delhi School
of Economics in 1985, I was sure that I
wanted to get a PhD—the highest aca-
demic qualification in a field of study.
Young, brimming with confidence and
assured by the belief and support of
my family, I dived right into the chal-
lenge. What I didn’t know was just how
elusive some goals can be.
I began by joining an MPhil course in
Economics right after my postgrad.
Within a year, I faced a fork in the road:
A job opportunity with the Indian Eco-
nomic Service came up, and I decided
to put my degree on hold. A few years
down the line, I got married, and a year
after that, I had my first child. My job
offered stimulating challenges and my
family and children brought me great
happiness and contentment. I’ll get
back to it soon, I assured myself.
In 2007, opportunity came knoc-
king again. A government-sponsored
advanced professional programme
in public adminstration was on
offer, with an option to work towards
an MPhil degree in social sciences, and
I was quick to grab it. If my dissertation
was first-rate, I could take it forward fora PhD. So I began a nine-month train-
ing programme and my sabbatical. As
it drew to a close, I was thrilled that
I’d be one step closer to my dream.
Perhaps I celebrated too soon.Unforeseen Roadblocks
Three months before the end of the
course, my batchmates and I went to
Shillong for a study tour. One day du-
ring an early-morning hike, I suddenly
slipped on some loose gravel, twisted
my left ankle and fell. The excruciating
pain in my foot left no doubt that my
ankle was fractured. Everyone jumped
in to help—while one colleague flagged
down a passer-by who immediately
called the local hospital, another
made his way to a nearby Indo-Tibetan
Border Police post for help. They pro-
cured a stretcher and I was taken to the
hospital immediately. Luckily, it also
happened to be a Wednesday, the only
day of the week that the best orthopae-
dic surgeon in the North East was avai-
lable at the outpatient department.
Six months later, my shattered ankle
started to mend. I was eager to finish
my MPhil, so I completed my disser-
tation during those confined months.
Grounded as I was, my colleagues, once
again, jumped in to help. The journey
was far from over though, and the next
steps for PhD—registration, entrance
exams, interviews, finding a mentor for
my thesis—were all impossible, given
that I had just resumed walking with
the help of a cane. As far as I had come,
it would all have to wait. Again.