The clock shows 7:59 a.m. I’m sitting on the bedside of my small hostel room, staring at my phone screen. The website says “manuscript is with reviewers” under the status section.
I think to myself: it has been eight months since I first submitted my manuscript. I still remember the day I clicked submit, thinking — like every young mind — that my work might impact the field. A few weeks later came the first rejection. My instant reaction was, What? How? I even thought, maybe a frustrated postdoc or PhD reviewed it. No worries, I told myself, I can submit it somewhere else. Then came another rejection. This time I thought, maybe they probably didn’t realize the importance of the work. So I modified the manuscript and re-submitted it to other scientific journal. Then another. Rejection after rejection, followed by yet another resubmission with modifications. Although I have published papers before, but this would be the first one where I did everything from 0 to 100% — from designing to carrying out every experiment. I really want this paper to get….
Suddenly, the clock hits 8:00 a.m. with a ting, pulling me back to the present. Time is telling me to move and leave for the lab. I pick up my bag, lock the room, and step out but still thinking about it.
I take my cycle out of the parking area, still lost in my thoughts. I don’t even notice a colleague saying hi. I climb onto the seat and start pedaling. The ride from my hostel to the Biosciences department usually takes five minutes. The path is always the same: a narrow road curving gently along the mountain, with a lake on the right where geese swim and quack loudly to announce the start of a new day.
On most mornings, the view, the environment, and even the quacking sound feels calming. But today, none of it reaches me. My mind is too crowded to notice any of it. Crowded with the thoughts and questions. I think about the time I came to IIT and started my PhD, four years back. I joined without any prior research experience. People asked why I was skipping a master’s and jumping straight into a PhD. I didn’t listen to anyone. I just knew it that I could do this, but now I am wondering maybe I should have listened to those people. Maybe they were right about the importance of experience. Maybe I don’t belong here. Maybe the project I designed for my PhD is not relevant. Maybe I didn’t put in enough work on the manuscript. There are lot of maybes now, and each one feels heavier than the last.
I reach the department building, park the cycle, and mark my biometric attendance. Take the keys from security, and start unlocking the lab. It’s dark inside. While unlocking the door, I catch my reflection in the glass. For a moment, I see myself from four years ago — opening the lab for the very first time — eyes full of hope and dreams of becoming a scientist.
But today, that dream feels far away. I push all the thoughts aside and looked at my plan for today’s work. First task is virus infection in the cells. I completely forgot I had seeded the cells yesterday. I take a deep breath and get to work.
In the afternoon, I am in the departmental common facility, getting the samples out of incubator. Suddenly, I hear a tinggggg 🔔 and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I remove my gloves and take the phone out.
I look at the lock screen and see a Gmail notification.For a moment, I freeze.
The email is from the editor.
I stare at the notification for a few seconds. In those few seconds, my mind starts showing me every email from editors, every reviewer comment, every response I wrote, and every change I made to the manuscript.
I push all the thoughts aside and open the email.
It reads: “Congratulations, your manuscript has been accepted in our journal.”
After reading the message, I just stand there, looking at the phone screen and reading that line again and again. My eyes shimmered with tears. All the doubts, questions, and thoughts that filled my mind this morning slowly fade away, leaving me with a feeling I cannot put into words.
Soon it is going to be two years since that day, and I still remember everything that followed after that email. Messages of congratulations poured in from colleagues, seniors, and friends. My PI was happy too — so happy that he even gave me a hug when I told him about the manuscript acceptance.
That email from the editor gave me something far bigger than an acceptance message. It gave me confidence that I could also do research. That I could also publish in scientific journals. That I could also lead a project on my own. I may not know how much impact my work had on the research world, but it definitely impacted me.
Until then, I was only trying to become a scientist.
That day, I finally felt like one.
(I still have the screenshot of that email with me.)
I will leave you with a takeaway message from my story. There will be times when you doubt yourself, question your decisions, and wonder if you belong where you are. That’s normal. Don’t let it stop you. Keep putting in the work. And above all, keep on doubting yourself — because it’s in those doubts that we grow the most. Bye!
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