Anugrahaprada “Anu” Mukundan: A (w)hole new world
This piece was written in the fall of 2025 by GRAD 5144 (Communicating Science) student Anugrahaprada Mukundan as part of an assignment to write a personal narrative about her research.
It was a cold fall night. I was back in the comfort and coziness of my apartment, after yet another day of despair (or so it felt). I fixed myself a quick dinner, logged in to Netflix on my laptop, and continued watching the next episode in the first season of the Demon Slayer anime series.
Tanjiro was sweating and heaving, standing in front of a huge boulder with his sword having slipped from his hand. His teacher, Master Urokodaki, had told him that to qualify for the Final Selection process of joining the Demon Slayer Corps, he had to cut the boulder in half. Tanjiro had been at it for months, but in vain. Thoughts of his now demon sister, Nezuko, flowed through his mind. To turn her back into a human, he had to become a Demon Slayer. And he could not become one until he could make it to the Final Selection. He was out of breath. His energy was depleting with each passing second, but he could not give up. He had to do this, for Nezuko, for his dead family, for humankind. He picked up his sword, assumed his stance, and started swinging, attempting to slice the boulder. He kept going at it, again, and again, and again. Until finally, lo and behold, Tanjiro had divided the boulder, and the outro began playing. . .
Earlier in the year
It was a crisp but sunny evening, announcing the arrival of fall. I was exhilarated to have completed the first milestone of the Ph.D. program. I could finally start working on my dissertation research. My first task: sample preparation for transmission electron microscopy (TEM) - the slicing, chopping, and marinating ingredients before grilling them to make “barbecue.” Only I had to work with chunks of a hard metal, a tungsten alloy, instead of tender meat and vegetables.
It took me a while, but I managed to get through slicing and chopping my alloy chunks into small, workable pieces. Now came the marinating part: polishing the pieces by hand on a sandpaper-like sheet with teeny tiny diamond particles, until each piece became as thin as a strand of hair (about 70 microns). This process was fairly straightforward and ended up becoming a good source for an arm workout.
Eventually, I would have to make a small hole in the thin piece of metal to make each piece so transparent that a beam of electrons could penetrate through it, just as a ray of light passes through glass. This is a crucial step because the TEM will not show what’s inside the metal if the sample is not electron transparent. I use a fancy instrument called an ion mill to make the hole, which carefully removes metal from a specific area (usually the center of the sample) by shooting a beam of ions. I took a freshly thinned piece of my tungsten alloy, loaded it in the ion mill, and let it do its magic. Three. . .four. . .five hours passed by but no sign of the hole, so I came back another day to continue. A total of 10-11 hours passed by, yet no hole.
Something did not feel right. Perhaps it’s still a little too thick, I thought, and decided to start over with thinning another piece. It became a sparring contest between me and the mighty tungsten alloy. I had vastly underestimated my opponent: You’re a tough nut to crack, buddy!
Days turned into weeks, and not a single specimen. No specimen meant no TEM, which meant no data, which meant no dissertation. My patience was waning, my confidence was draining, and I fell into a rabbit hole of self-doubt and overthinking. What made me think I could do a Ph.D.? Am I ever going to finish this degree? Is this a sign to pack my bags and move back home? My brain was brimming with an endless stream of such questions, pushing me to the verge of giving up.
A ray of hope fell upon me that fall night when Tanjiro sliced the boulder. That teenage boy’s grit and determination inspired me. His perseverance, his optimism, and his never-say-never attitude fueled me to keep trying and to face my challenges, just as Tanjiro did throughout his journey in the following episodes. Success did not come easily; I felt like I was getting close at times, yet I was still far. A new semester had started. I started over multiple times, only to yield no result. I took notes from the highs and lows of Tanjiro’s journey and remembered the dying words of Tanjiro’s senior, Kyojuro Rengoku: “Set your heart ablaze.” I did not quit trying.
Months later, after countless attempts at thinning and ion milling, there it was: My first TEM sample was ready to be inspected! A teeny tiny hole in a small piece of metal became my reason for immense joy. I can finally see myself graduating! Looking at the sample under the TEM and spotting different features hidden in the tungsten alloy was extremely satisfying. Sorting through the data and organizing and discussing them with my professor has become a stimulating process I always look forward to.
It has been more than a year since I first started making samples, and what an emotional rollercoaster it has been! It is astounding how something seemingly insignificant or silly like an anime can connect to one's life, how moments in a fictitious world can empower and inspire people to unlock their full potential. I know that life will continue giving me lemons, but I think I now know how to make lemonade. I have my armor on, my shields up, and my sword held tight, and to my next challenge, I say, “Water breathing, eleventh form, Dead Calm...”
