Welcome to My Journey in Academia
Programming has been a significant part of my academic life for the past 15 years.
From simulating the Sun to modeling plants, I’ve explored various aspects of the
world around us through numerical methods. Looking back, it’s been a journey filled
with challenges, discoveries, and growth.
In this blog, I want to share my programming journey and academic experiences—not as
a polished narrative, but as a candid recollection of what comes to mind. Right now,
programming skills are how I earn my bread and butter. Reflecting on where I started,
what I learned, and the moments where I stumbled, I hope to capture the essence of my path so far.
This is my first blog post on my website, and it’s more about revisiting the
milestones that brought me here. I’ll write, reflect, and edit iteratively as
I go—just like coding, where nothing is perfect on the first run.
2006-2010: The Beginning
My programming journey began with the very first program I wrote in 2006. After that over the past 15 years,
I’ve spent most of my time programming and simulating different things that make up a part of this world
using numerical methods. But after all this time and work, if I try to recall my earliest days in coding, only bits and pieces come back to me. We can’t remember everything, can we? What I do remember of my academic and programming journey, I wanted to share here in my very first blog on my website.
During my bachelor’s in Electronics and Communication engineering (around 2007 to 2010)
at BMSIT, Bengaluru, I remember writing sorting algorithms in C++ and working on microcontroller
programming in assembly language. I was working with MATLAB, where I only remember implementing
high-pass, low-pass, and band-pass filters. These stand out as strong memories, even though there
were countless other programming exercises across various subjects.
So, don’t think I was very interested in programming. During this time, I actually thought
programming was technically inferior as compared to designing physical circuits, antennas,
or other electronic devices. But eventually, it became a part of my career. Till now, I have
survived with it. And so, I will share more of my stories, like my master’s and PhD, down the line.
But I just wanted to clarify that I was not at all passionate about programming in the beginning,
and I don’t even claim that I’ve achieved something big, like inventing a new programming language.
What I am trying to say is, right now, I can comfortably earn my bread and butter with programming.
That’s why I thought of writing this blog.
My Masters Saga in USA (2010-2014)
In 2010, I finished my bachelor’s degree. What I wanted was to pursue higher studies in
an international environment. And of course, the obvious choice—even now—is the United States. It attracts a lot of people,
and during my time, I also went to the United States to do my master’s degree. In 2010, I joined
the University of Alabama in Huntsville to study electrical engineering.
Back then, the fees were high for a lower middle-class Indian family, just like they are today. To make
it work, my parents had to part with almost 50% of their life savings. So, once I got to the U.S.,
I had to figure out ways to save or make money while studying. One obvious way was to get a graduate
research assistantship or a teaching assistantship.
However, coming from India with developing English language skills, it was challenging. My GRE verbal score
wasn’t that impressive (330/800), though I scored very high in quantitative (780/800)—90th percentile,
which means I did better than 90% of the test-takers. But even with that, my emerging English skills made it harder
to secure a teaching assistantship.
In those days, we didn’t have ChatGPT or Deepseek to help us improve our English, like the way it’s helping
me write this blog now in 2025. So, my options were limited. I didn’t have the opportunity to attend
elite research universities like Stanford or MIT, where students pursuing their research could
study on scholarships and explore topics on their own, and these places had large endowments to support such
independent activity. But outside these places, there were few options for me. I had to fit into a project
that had funding, whether it interested me or not, as it was a great deal if I could save money by
helping a professor (which means less burden on my parents, who believed that a degree would lead to a stable future) finish their project and I could also learn a few things.
But for me, learning science has always been the same. After working in many areas, I barely notice any boundary between
disciplines. Whether I’m dealing with Darcy’s law or Ohm’s law, my satisfaction as a numerical scientist doesn’t change.
So coming back to my Masters degree, opportunities were limited, and only a few professors had funding. I ended up choosing Late
Prof. Nagendra Singh as my Master’s thesis adviser, who was working in computational plasma physics employing methods like particle
in cell and Magnetohydrodynamics (a kind of CFD), even though it was very new to me. Prior to this, I had no idea what plasma was,
except in my high school I heard it as 4th state of matter and that it was present in the Sun.
I took on a thesis under him because it offered a graduate research assistantship that reduced my fees and expenses. This was
the first time I was pushed into the world of computing and modeling because my job required me to learn Linux, supercomputing,
and other tools. And so, out of necessity—to save money and complete my master’s degree—I was introduced to supercomputing and
PHYSICS.
This was the first time I encountered Linux, which, surprisingly, wasn’t part of my undergraduate curriculum in India. It seems
Linux is only taught in computer science programs, but I feel it should be introduced across all branches of engineering.
Back then, around 2010-2011, Stack Overflow and online forums were my online gurus. Google was like the GPT of that era for me.
Those were the days I learned about command-line interfaces, running jobs on supercomputing clusters, and the concept of software
licenses.
Until then, I had taken software like MATLAB for granted. In my undergraduate days, I used it on university computers without
considering who paid for it. But during my master’s, when I needed it for home assignments, I discovered that I needed to pay
for a student edition and a company called Mathworks makes this software. I grew up with floppy drives and now I’m living with Thunderbolt 5. So we can’t compare with today.
I also had to learn about parallel computing, learning about MPI and OpenMPI for messy Fortran codes. Python wasn’t as
mainstream as it is today, so I worked primarily with MATLAB and Fortran.
So, let me also share what exactly was my work during my master’s degree. There was this 2,000-line Fortran code
my professor gave me, and honestly, it was the first time I realized that a code could even exceed 2,000 lines!
Back in my bachelor’s, whether it was a band-pass filter or a Fourier transform, most of our lab exercises were
50 lines of code at most. This was on a completely different level.
The task was to modify this massive code because it didn’t compute the magnetic field of a Helmholtz coil.
My professor asked me to write a function for that, solve it numerically using the Biot-Savart law, integrate it,
and then parallelize it using MPI. The goal was to model how plasma flows in an experimental device and compare the
results with actual experiments conducted at the Australian National University.
First, I wrote a code to solve the Biot-Savart law. It wasn’t overly complex, but handling it in 3D added its own challenges.
Then, I integrated this new functionality into the existing Fortran code, ensuring that the variables and logic aligned perfectly.
It was like adding a new feature to a large, unfamiliar system. Somehow, I managed to finish this work in six months.
Looking back, I wonder if it was the energy of youth or sheer necessity that pushed me through. It wasn’t easy, but it
resulted in two publications.
If you ask me now whether this work made a significant impact, I’d say probably not. I feel that even if I had taken
a non-thesis option or chosen a different field, it wouldn’t have mattered much in the long run. But at that time,
getting published felt like winning a Nobel Prize. Seeing my name on a paper gave me immense pride. Those publications,
which you’ll still find on my CV, form the basis of my contributions to the physics of plasma.
While working on this project, I developed a deep love for physics. It felt almost spiritual to me, and I began
regretting my decision to pursue engineering instead of physics. This newfound passion drove me to apply for a PhD in physics.
However, switching to a good university wasn’t straightforward. Navigating the application process in a foreign country was unclear to me,
and I didn’t have strong recommendations.
In the same town, there was another university—a historically black university with many Indian faculty members.
To satisfy my love for physics, I joined their PhD program. But the work there felt far from what I imagined physics
would be. It mostly involved lab experiments, like working with biophysics and optics, which didn’t eventually align with
my interests. I was handling polymer molecules, thin membranes, and chemicals like polybutadiene (I don’t remember exactly),
often without proper safety measures. All I remember is there were no gas masks and the moment I used this chemical
there were pins and needles in my skin as I inhaled it, and I felt more like a lab assistant handling chemicals rather
than a physicist.
I had this romanticized idea that studying physics would take me back to the times of Newton or Gauss. I know I was mistaken
now but not back then. My physics experience, at least in the PhD program I was in, felt mundane and uninspiring. After
spending one and a half years there, I decided to move on. I converted my PhD into a master’s degree and returned
to India. I came back with no solid plan, but the thought of pursuing a PhD still remained with me.
How I landed in Germany in 2015
In 2014, after leaving my PhD program, I returned to India and experienced a period of career transition. That period was a
challenge. I spent time earning Coursera and other certificates, enhancing my LinkedIn profile, and trying to build visibility
through platforms like MATLAB File Exchange as well as applying to PhD positions worldwide including IISc Bengaluru. I tried
several times to get into IISc PhD programs after having 3 publications and two masters degrees from the USA, but wasn’t successful.
The main reason I was interested in IISc is because of its location in Bengaluru which is my home town.
I eventually received two PhD opportunities in 2015, one in South Korea on windmill simulation and the other at the University of Paderborn
in Germany in theoretical physics. I was fascinated by the idea of studying in Europe. Many of the great
physicists I admired were from European institutions, and Germany especially stood out to me.
I should also explain why I liked Germany - I think it’s a great country to study and also very practical. If I look back at
my experience with degrees from the US or other countries, they all required things like letters of recommendation, medical
tests, and other formalities. I’m originally from India, and getting a US visa itself was a process. I received a pink slip
(221g) during the process, and it wasn’t easy at all. On top of that, the fees for studying in
the US were extremely high.
When I went to Belgium for my PhD, they required a medical test before I could even begin.
Although I did complete my PhD in Belgium, the visa process wasn’t as straightforward as it was with Germany. I also have experience
getting visas from Gulf countries, and they too require medical tests just like Belgium. Though I didn’t have any health concerns,
I appreciate that Germany has a more streamlined process for international students.
They didn’t ask me for letters of recommendation or medical tests for the visa. They liked my profile based on my
interview and gave me admission to their PhD program in Theoretical Physics at Paderborn, to which I’m still grateful.
This was in the year 2015. It was in quantum physics, which fascinated me, but the level of background knowledge required
was far beyond what I had. I didn’t have a strong foundation in theoretical physics, and after one year, I had to leave the
program.
I did consider doing a PhD in India and even applied to some programs, including IISc, but I wasn’t successful. I’ll save
that experience for another blog, so don’t assume I ruled out India as an option. However, at that time, I found the
application process and overall system of European universities to be much more straightforward and practical.
Interestingly, IISc itself was historically modeled after Western universities (British, American and German influence),
so in many ways, choosing a European institution wasn’t a drastic shift — it was just a path that worked
out better for me.
So coming back to my journey, leaving the PhD program at Paderborn was yet another learning experience. While in Germany,
I picked up a few things—including Bitte and Danke—but I also had to accept my limitations in theoretical physics. Still,
I was determined to complete a PhD and kept looking for opportunities.
That’s when I came across an opening at the University of Louvain in Belgium for a project on modeling the electrical
signatures of plant roots. The topic intrigued me because it involved modeling, which I enjoyed, and plants, which had
always fascinated me. At first, I thought, “What does the electrical signature of plants even mean?” But the idea was
compelling enough for me to apply.
To my surprise, I received an offer in 2016—but not without challenges. One of the key requirements was a recommendation
letter, which took some effort to secure.
My Experience with Recommendation Letters
At that time, I reached out to professors from the two universities where I had completed my master’s degrees in the US. Getting recommendation letters proved challenging. In the second university—where I’d briefly joined a PhD program before leaving—I sensed my departure hadn’t gone over well, so I felt uneasy asking for a letter. Still, I tried, but got no response. Sometimes, people focus on their own commitments and may not prioritize helping former students.
At the first master’s university, where I had a publication record, my main advisor for the plasma physics thesis had unfortunately passed away—he was already in his 70s when I worked with him. I hadn’t really connected with other professors there, so I had no one else to ask.
All of this made me reflect on the role of recommendation letters in academia. It seems the system sometimes creates unnecessary barriers—like they’re just filtering applications rather than really getting to know the candidate. An experienced professor or committee could rely on interviews and a candidate’s portfolio of work as well.
That said, there are definitely supportive professors who write excellent letters when needed. For instance, professors at the University of Paderborn in Germany were remarkably helpful. Even though I didn’t initially ask them for a recommendation—having left that PhD program as well—they still vouched for me for the Belgian PhD position. Without their support, I might not have completed a PhD at all. Those letters helped me secure my fellowship in Belgium, and my PhD adviser there even mentioned how positive my Paderborn supervisor’s recommendation had been!
My PhD (2016 to 2020) in Belgium
So, I got my Belgian visa and began my PhD at the University of Louvain. If you ask me what stands out from those years of research,
it’s this: I learned how to create finite element meshes for very complicated geometry. Before my PhD, I was proficient in the finite
difference method, but finite element methods were new territory for me.
In my earlier experiences—whether during my master’s or at the University of Paderborn in theoretical physics—coding always
involved starting from scratch. I had to write everything myself. But during my PhD, I learned how to utilize ready-made software
models developed from years of multiple PhD projects like EIDORS (tomography in MATLAB) or R-SWMS (plant modelling tool in Fortran).
Whether it was for electrical resistivity tomography (EIDORS) or simulating plant roots (R-SWMS), the challenge was to use these tools
in a synchronized way to solve my specific problem.
The specific problem I worked on during my PhD wasn’t something I defined myself. My professors had proposed the problem, secured
funding for it, and I accepted the offer to work on it. The project was focused on quantifying the electrical signature of plant
roots.
In a way, this is how the academic system works at least in Europe—it’s very structured. A project exists, funding is secured,
and researchers are brought in to help solve the problem and complete the project. That’s how most PhDs work in Europe. Unlike in
places like IITs or IISc in India or some elite rich universities like Yale or Harvard, where students often spend the first couple
of years figuring out what they want to do, the PhD structure in Europe is more defined from the start.
The PhD problem was well-defined, which meant I could focus my energy on solving it without wandering aimlessly. Having such a
structured PhD also gave me time to pursue other interests. For example, during my PhD, I finally learned to play the violin—something
I had wanted to do for years but never had the time to even buy one. I wouldn’t call myself an expert now either, but I learned for
about a year. At least in this lifetime, I had the chance to play a violin, and that was possible because my PhD project saved me time
by being so focused.
In my opinion, professors are experienced enough to propose meaningful problems, and if they believe a problem is worth solving, it
likely is. Our role, then, is to contribute to solving that problem, finish the project, and earn the degree. This doesn’t mean you
lack independence in a well-defined project. These projects often operate within a larger framework, giving you the freedom to explore
related ideas.
For instance, within my PhD’s broader framework of quantifying the electrical signature of roots, I worked on a smaller project to
show that electrical anisotropy could be used as a root phenotyping parameter. While this idea was presented at conferences, it never got published. But that didn’t matter much to me at the time because it was an opportunity to explore something new within the boundaries of the larger project.
It’s a misconception that well-defined projects restrict creativity. In fact, I believe they’re better because they save time and
allow for focused progress. When I look back now, at 35 as I am writing this blog, I truly understand the value of time. Anything
that helps save time should be taken seriously.
Now coming back to the PhD work, If I had to pick my most significant contribution during my PhD, it would be developing
finite element meshes in 3D for complex plant root systems. This was no small feat and was appreciated by my peers. Apart from
that, my PhD work led to two first-author publications, with 80% of the paper writing being my own contribution, and the rest
polished by my thesis supervisor.
This felt different from my master’s degree, where I also had three publications (two as the first author and one as the second).
However, during my master’s, my writing was significantly revised by my thesis supervisor—more than 50% of it. Back then, I might
have been generating results and figures, but I wasn’t structuring the papers myself. It felt like I was providing inputs, and they assembled the work into a coherent paper.
This experience gave me a broader perspective on publications in academia. While some places still
value publication numbers above all else, I believe it’s the quality and originality of the contribution that matter more. But
that’s a discussion for another blog.
Returning to my PhD, I worked extensively on simulating plant root water uptake. One of my tasks involved adapting a finite
element software originally designed for medical imaging of heart and lung systems. This tool, developed in the UK, was repurposed
for our experiments with maize root systems in a risotron setup. Creating finite element meshes for these complex geometries was
challenging but rewarding.
Once I completed meshing a single root system, I scaled up my work. I automated tasks to simulate thousands of plants and their
interactions. Automation was a significant skill I developed during my PhD. Before this, I would run one software, manually plot
each result, and feel content. But during my PhD, I had to scale up these processes. By my fourth year, a single plant simulation
that used to feel monumental had become just a DOT in a scatterplot of thousands of simulations.
This was also the time—around 2018—when I was introduced to Python. Although Python had been around for a while, it was new to me.
I quickly grew fond of it and transitioned away from my old buddy MATLAB. From then on, Python became my primary tool for simulations
and data processing.
In 2020, I defended my PhD thesis. This was during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time that brought its own set of challenges.
When I defended my PhD in October 2020, the world had changed—it was the time of COVID. It was the first time I experienced
lockdowns, restrictions, and the global impact of a pandemic. People were suffering everywhere, and the world felt like it had transformed overnight.
Somehow, I managed to finish my PhD and return to India during this turbulent time. Looking back, it was surreal. But we made it through, and life moved on.
Conclusions
My academic journey has been diverse and enriching, teaching me resilience, adaptability, and critical thinking. Although initially drawn to science out of pure curiosity, I came to appreciate its practical applications in solving real-world problems.
In academia and industry alike, success often hinges on practical problem-solving. Embracing opportunities, maintaining flexibility, and valuing time have guided my path. Moving forward, I remain committed to continual growth and meaningful contributions through thoughtful, focused work.