Space / Meteors, Asteroids, & Comets

My father was a logistics officer in the Indian Air Force, and we moved every two years or so. At one point we lived in the south of the country in a house surrounded by mango groves. I’d climb the trees and pick the fruits—even before they were ripe. I just loved to bite into them. But the juice of raw mangoes can be pretty nasty. It’s corrosive and causes sores wherever it touches the skin. My mom would always say: “Don’t be impatient! Wait until those mangoes ripen!” The next day, the rash would show up on my face.

I learned a big lesson about patience when my mother died. I was 15 at the time, the oldest daughter, and I had to step into a motherly role with my younger sister. I also felt I had to take care of my dad. It was a big responsibility, and I had to learn to deal with the world from a completely different perspective. I realized I couldn’t always get things my way. I had to take other people into consideration.

You know, a lot of science is not exciting stuff. It’s a day-to-day thing that you have to do methodically and carefully until you get to the end product. My mother’s death made me look at the big picture—not the here and now. That was important to me down the road because impatience is just not how science works.

In India you pretty much have to decide out of high school what track you’re going to take. At age 17, you have to choose whether you’re going to be a doctor or an engineer or go for a liberal arts degree. That’s good if you know what you want to do. But if you don’t, you are forced into a discipline, and you have to follow that course. And if you flunk out, you might not get a second chance because there are age limits for admissions. It’s a one-shot deal.

I had always been interested in the sciences, but at that time I had just read The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. The book inspired in me a glorified image of an architect. That image was not based on reality, but I was in love with it, which is part of the danger implicit in having to make such a big decision at 17. I wanted to be an architect, and I shut out everything else from my radar screen.

I applied to architecture school and did not get admitted. What now? There are certain jobs—doctor, teacher, nurse—that are considered acceptable for a woman in India, jobs that allow her to raise a family at the same time. I started to look at options, but all I really had to do was open the door.

At that time, we were living in Chandigarh, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Just looking at these mountain ranges is inspirational. It makes you feel that there are forces that are much bigger than we human beings. It makes you want to understand them.

I started to think about majoring in geology. “What’s that?” some people asked. I’m serious. But I went to visit the geology department of nearby Panjab University. There weren’t many women. At the time, it seemed like a haven for guys who couldn’t get into engineering or physics or whatever it was that they really wanted to do. So they were all looking at me, wondering, “What kind of loser are you?” For a little while I wondered if I should try to enroll in something that would be more acceptable in my social environment, but I’m glad I followed my instincts. I just wanted to better understand the world in which I lived. I guess it all goes back to oxygen and carbon dioxide.