Three Letters, Eight Years

Three Letters, Eight Years

An eight year PhD journey!

Dr. Alamelu Janaki.

These initials are very deceptive and alluring.  There is something almost femme fatale about them.

Three letters that make eight years of reading, writing, waiting, doubting, stopping, starting and starting all over again look almost effortless.

This journey derailed and challenged me in more ways than I had anticipated. It demanded relentless consistency and dedication—two things I was, frankly, spectacularly bad at. Looking back, I don't see one continuous version of myself moving steadily towards a doctorate. I see several versions of me: evolving, struggling, stopping, restarting and, somehow, continuing.

So, I thought I would tell the story through those versions of myself.

 

1.       The Young Adult Who Began

When I was doing my UG, my professor Shanmuga Priya ma’am planted that seed of pursuing a doctorate.

But I certainly did not begin with the thesis I eventually wrote.

 The proposal I wrote after my PG was more of a comparative study between Harry Potter, Edward Cullen (from The Twilight saga) and Christian Grey (from Fifty Shades)- using  Joseph Campbell’s concept of The Hero’s Journey.

While before that, my guide suggested that I do a study on the ‘Representation of Aram in World Literature’ and I found it very difficult to find an equivalent footing for the concept of aram across various literary traditions.  We eventually dropped it there.

 After which we resorted to young adult fiction (which I greatly enjoyed reading then) and my guide was like to move beyond the conventional, popular notions of young adult fiction and to find the socially relevant elements. That eventually led me to the thesis that would occupy the next several years of my life:

 “Gender, Race, class in Young Adult Fiction by American Women”  

 

2.       The Researcher

     The tedious part, where I was mostly clueless.

I very well remember the first 10 pages I wrote and sent to my guide. It came back to me with full red marks and loads of corrections. I was terrified to write further. I stopped writing and took a long pause.

The journey was loaded with seemingly endless hiatuses. I was sometimes happily sluggish, sometimes horribly down. The journey was definitely not pleasant. I read a secondary document; I underline and take notes. From the notes I manually write and after a break I will redo it again. It was a vicious cycle.

3.       The woman who struggled

If The Researcher was clueless, The Woman Who Struggled was deeply insecure.

Doubt, exhaustion, comparison, moments when the thesis seemed endless.

 I wondered how other people are able to coherently, convincingly present their arguments at a stretch. I wallowed in the sea of self-doubt. I used to think of myself as this person who lacked that very ingredient which was essential for research.  

4.       The Reader

       As years flew my perception towards my research changed. It rather evolved, I learnt to be at it. I understood every small step is progress.

My friend, Anu, held my hand through this phase. Once, when I was struggling to make sense of this writing progress, she said, “imagine you are writing your exam, your paragraphs are actual analysis” that became my epiphany moment.

 I thought, Okay, this is my understanding of the text, I will substantiate my argument to my best of my ability.

Then, something shifted.

 I ransacked the secondary texts again and again and made three lists, the one with more theoretical relevance and lesser relatable ones. The third one with the list of the secondary sources I read. Now I know what to retain and what to eliminate.

I somehow learnt to deal with it all simultaneously. Perhaps, time pushed me there.

 

5.       The mother / wife / teacher / daughter

    When someone asks me “how is your PhD thingy coming up?”

I would joke: “There is personal progress- I got married, I begot my daughter, I relocated but there is no PhD progress.” And that’s how it felt. Life was moving forward even when my thesis wasn't.

To straddle among the various roles that were challenging and equally demanding was tedious and exhaustive. However, with the support system I propelled myself forward.

Some days, I write in pages. Some days, just a few paragraphs. Some days, how much ever I squeeze my head no word pops out.

Sometimes, it is just refusing to abandon the thing you once thought you would finish.

 

6.       The submission and The Viva

           All the bits and pieces somehow brought the intended corpus.

 The paper work during synopsis submission and later was draining. I kept telling myself, okay this is it.

And then it wasn’t. There was always another form, another correction, another requirement, another wait.

    My guide was an incredible source of support throughout the process. He corrected me in ways that never rubbed my confidence. I made the silliest possible mistakes. He would be like, “what do you think is the spelling?”  He never forced or pushed me; he was always kind and gentle. He stood by me and believed in me greatly, sometimes perhaps more than I believed in myself.

Then came the viva.

    Viva was the culmination of the journey. After waiting for months for the report, the viva announcements were made by the university. I did mock presentations before the viva to anybody and everybody I could. Kalyan was mostly the scapegoat. He was definitely motivating and supportive.

     As I defended my thesis and was awarded the degree, I felt little joy and more relief.

 

7.       Looking Back

                      Honestly, the relief hasn’t entered my skin.

I’m still asking myself, “what do I do now?” I continue to feel a little lost. For eight years, there was always a thesis waiting for me. A chapter to finish. An article to read. A correction to make. A deadline somewhere in the distance.

And now suddenly, there isn’t.

Perhaps the realization that the degree was only the visible outcome; the real transformation happened quietly over the years. Like Murakami says, "And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive... When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in."

From the girl who wanted PhD to a woman I became  with new responsibilities -I understood the power of patience and consistency to realise that reaching the finishing line is not the achievement. But showing up and being at it is.

Dr. Alamelu Janaki.

Three letters.

Eight years behind them.

And a woman I don't quite recognise anymore.