{"id":6262,"date":"2026-08-21T14:37:41","date_gmt":"2026-08-21T14:37:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/?p=6262"},"modified":"2026-08-21T14:37:42","modified_gmt":"2026-08-21T14:37:42","slug":"what-stays-after-a-phd","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/?p=6262","title":{"rendered":"What Stays After a PhD"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Hello, I am Prashant Kodali. I completed my PhD at IIIT Hyderabad nearly a year ago, advised by Prof. Manish Shrivastava<\/a> and Prof. PK<\/a>. My thesis<\/a> was broadly about code-mixed and multilingual natural language processing, and I am now continuing my research journey as a Postdoctoral Researcher at Microsoft Research India<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is a tradition of graduating students writing about their time at Precog<\/a>. I have read many of these blogs over the years, occasionally wondering what I would write when my turn came. Now that it has, I find that I do not particularly want to reconstruct my PhD as a sequence of semesters, projects, papers, and milestones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every PhD follows its own path, shaped by choices, circumstances, luck, and many factors outside the student\u2019s control. A chronological account can make the journey appear far more deliberate and orderly than it felt while living through it. More importantly, that is simply not how I remember mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I look back, what stays with me most clearly are a few conversations, some unlikely opportunities, periods of uncertainty, and the people who gradually changed how I thought about research and work. Some of these memories may appear inconsequential to an external reader. To me, they are the landmarks through which I understand the journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is therefore not the PhD as it appears on my CV. It is the PhD as I remember it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is written through a deliberately Precog-centred lens. Many others\u2014family, friends, collaborators, faculty members, and fellow researchers\u2014were part of the journey and influenced it deeply. That is perhaps another story for another day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And a fair warning: this is a long read,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finding my way into research<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

My motivation for pursuing a PhD was relatively simple. I was very keen to leave my job and find my way into academia. I enjoyed teaching, and I liked the idea\u2014or perhaps a romanticised version of it\u2014of having questions in front of me that would make me want to return to work the next day.[1][2]<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Research-wise, I knew broadly that I wanted to work in natural language processing. What exactly within NLP interested me was still open. Frankly, I had not thought far enough ahead to have a carefully constructed research agenda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Around that time, Prof. Manish and Prof. PK had been discussing the possibility of working together on code-mixing. Prof. Manish and his students had a long history of research in the area, while Precog\u2019s work with large volumes of election-related social media data had also surfaced substantial amounts of code-mixed language. They were looking for a student to work at the intersection of these interests, and I happened to arrive at roughly the same time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On my first day on campus, I met Prof. Manish, spoke with him briefly, and then went with him to meet Prof. PK. I began working with Precog without ever formally applying or interviewing to join the group, which was unusual. This became increasingly amusing to me over the years because I would later participate in interviews for many students and researchers who wanted to join the lab. I occasionally wonder how the 2019 version of me would have performed in one of those interviews. My hunch is: a \u201cStrong Reject.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In hindsight, having a concrete research problem waiting for me was extremely helpful. Had I entered NLP with the full range of possible directions in front of me, I am fairly certain that I would have spent a long time simply deciding where to begin. An abundance of choices can be exciting, but it can also be daunting when one does not yet understand the field well enough to choose among them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of my earliest memories of speaking with my co-advisors was a conversation about how the three of us would work together. The message, as I remember it, was: “Prof. Manish has his style. Prof. PK has his style. By the end, you will have your own way of doing things.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The expectation was not that I would follow a recipe or learn to work exactly like either of them. Each person brought something different to the table\u2014at least both of them did; I was still figuring out what I brought\u2014and we had to find a way of working that made use of those differences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was considerable research freedom embedded in that statement, something that students working with Precog or Prof. Manish would probably recognise. That freedom was valuable, but it also came with the responsibility of deciding what to do with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another major influence on my research journey was Prof. Monojit Choudhury<\/a>. Prof. Monojit, along with Kalika Bali<\/a>, Sunayana Sitaram<\/a>, and others, had pioneered much of the work on code-mixing that I was reading when I began my PhD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One morning, I received a Slack message from Prof. PK saying that he had contacted Prof. Monojit and that we should present our work to him for feedback. There was something surreal about discussing my unfinished work with someone whose papers I had been reading to understand the field. Prof. Monojit subsequently became a constant source of advice. His ability to place a small research problem within the larger landscape of an area\u2014and to make sense of the mess I often presented\u2014remains a skill I would like to carry forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The conversations I remember<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

I do not recall one specific piece of technical advice that suddenly resolved a research problem or transformed the course of my PhD. There were countless discussions about experiments, framing, analysis, writing, and what to try next, but these are not the conversations that come to mind first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What I remember are the larger discussions\u2014with Prof. Manish, Prof. PK, and Prof. Monojit at different stages\u2014about what we wanted from research, what made a question worth pursuing, how professional choices interacted with personal life, and everything we believed was wrong with research and the systems surrounding it. These conversations were often long and meandering, and they did not always lead to an immediate decision. Their value sometimes became apparent only much later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One such conversation happened relatively early in my PhD. An important part of my work was not moving as expected, and while explaining the situation to Prof. Manish and Prof. PK, I had a fairly detailed account of why I was stuck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prof. PK\u2019s response was, in essence: I think your mindset should be: \u201cI will keep moving forward. It is up to others whether they want to come along.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The underlying situation did not change immediately, nor did the response suggest that research could be done independently of other people. What I took from it was simpler: irrespective of what others did, I still had to decide what I could do next. It was reassuring because it brought back a degree of control, even when the larger situation remained uncertain. At the same time, it placed the responsibility for finding the next step back with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another advantage of being part of a group such as Precog was that there were always people further along in the PhD journey. Their experiences provided occasional opportunities to look beyond the immediate experiment or deadline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember attending Rishabh\u2019s<\/a> PhD defence during my third or fourth semester. Watching someone defend naturally made me consider the eventual shape of my own journey. Soon afterwards, Prof. PK asked me how I thought my PhD and its timeline would unfold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am fairly certain that the answer I gave him bears little resemblance to the PhD I eventually completed. It was probably an approximation based on what I believed a reasonable timeline should look like. Nevertheless, the question remained. Defences, paper reviews, semester reviews, and occasional conversations created moments in which I had to step back from the immediate work and consider how the individual pieces might eventually fit together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The answers were rarely accurate. Periodically asking the question was still useful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI survived\u201d<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

One of the most challenging periods of my PhD came after I became a father. Days of surviving on three or four hours of broken sleep left me with very little energy, and sustained reading, writing, analysis, or making difficult research decisions became especially hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, I worried that the PhD would extend and about all the uncertainties associated with that possibility. During one conversation with Prof. PK, I was reflecting on the previous six months and saying that I should have managed my time better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shared an experience from around the time he had become a father. In one of his own review meetings, his first slide had simply said: “I survived.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was comforting to know that the struggle was not unique to me and that someone I regarded as extremely productive had also experienced a period in which survival itself was a reasonable update. I became at least slightly easier on myself. At that point, that helped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have since repeated this story to almost every new father who has spoken to me about how challenging work and life can become after fatherhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEligible? Apply?\u201d<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Another important moment came during a period in which I did not feel particularly productive, at least in terms of visible research output.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When nominations for the Microsoft Research India PhD Award opened, Prof. PK sent me a short email containing exactly two words: “Eligible? Apply?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To be honest, I did not take the possibility particularly seriously. The award felt out of reach, and applying seemed likely to be a waste of time for something I was not going to receive anyway. I applied, and I was fortunate enough to receive it<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The award did not directly determine everything that followed, but it began a series of interactions and opportunities that eventually contributed to my joining Microsoft Research India as a Postdoctoral researcher. It was my first meaningful opening into that ecosystem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A small intervention\u2014seeing an opportunity and asking me to apply\u2014ended up mattering considerably. It also represented something I have come to value greatly: being fortunate enough to have people who look out for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such people may notice an opportunity you have overlooked, encourage you to apply for something you consider beyond your reach, introduce you to someone, ask you to present your work, or support you through a period that is not going particularly well. I was fortunate to have several such people during my PhD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The people and the lab<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

When I joined Precog, the group had a substantial PhD cohort\u2014including Hitkul<\/a>, Shivangi<\/a>, Ritwik<\/a>, Nidhi<\/a>, and Neha<\/a>\u2014working across different research areas. There was usually someone who could help with at least part of a problem, whether by suggesting relevant literature, drawing on a similar experience, or pointing me towards the right person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The undergraduate students also helped set a remarkably high bar. I was often amazed by how independently they pursued ambitious research while managing a demanding course load. The people around us shape what we consider possible and, in turn, what we expect from ourselves. Anmol Goel<\/a> was an especially important part of this journey: we began working together when he was an undergraduate research assistant, and he later became a co-author on most of the papers in my thesis and, more importantly, a close friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I became one of the longer-serving members of the group, Prof. PK would occasionally suggest that students speak with me. These conversations were usually not about technical details, but about uncertainty, rejection, stalled projects, and whether a difficult phase was normal. I rarely had solutions, but I could sometimes share a similar experience, help them think through the problem, or direct them to someone better equipped to help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Spending several years in the lab also gave me a clearer view of how differently students respond to freedom, pressure, criticism, and opportunity. Some need direct answers; others need a question, more space, a deadline, or reassurance. It made me appreciate that much of advising\u2014and much of a lab\u2019s culture\u2014is shaped through these ordinary but consequential decisions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What stays<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Looking back, I can identify a sequence of moments in which questions or interventions mattered: the conversation that reminded me to focus on what I could still do when work was stalled; the question after Rishabh\u2019s defence that made me consider the eventual shape of my PhD; \u201cI survived\u201d at a time when I needed to hear that struggling after becoming a parent was not a personal failure; and \u201cEligible? Apply?\u201d for an opportunity I would otherwise have dismissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

None of these moments, by itself, explains the outcome of my PhD or what followed it. Many people were involved, including both my advisors, Prof. Monojit, collaborators, lab members, friends, and family. There was also a great deal of work, uncertainty, circumstance, and luck. These interventions stayed with me because each arrived at a moment when a relatively small change in perspective or action mattered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They also bring me back to one of the earliest conversations about advising: “Prof. Manish has his style. Prof. PK has his style. Eventually, you will have your own.” I do not yet know what my own style will be. Should I someday have the opportunity\u2014and honour\u2014of advising a PhD student, I know some of the things I would want to carry forward. I would want students to develop a sense of ownership without feeling that they must navigate every difficulty alone. I would want to ask questions that help them periodically look beyond the experiment immediately in front of them and to remember that many of the hardest parts of a PhD are not technical. I would want to notice opportunities they may not yet consider themselves ready for and encourage them to try anyway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Most importantly, I would want them to know that someone has their back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was fortunate to experience that support throughout my PhD. Prof. Manish was part of the journey from the earliest conversations about working on code-mixing and remained a pillar of unconditional support throughout it. Working with Prof. Manish and Prof. PK exposed me to two different ways of thinking about research and advising. Prof. Monojit was another crucial source of perspective and support. Formal labels do not always adequately describe the people who make a long research journey possible; much of their contribution lies in being available for conversations and helping someone continue through periods that never appear in the final thesis. A PhD may ultimately be awarded to one person, but the journey is rarely sustained by that person alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The papers, deadlines, progress reports, and thesis provide a record of what I did during the PhD. They are not the complete record of what the PhD did to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What remains are the conversations, the people, the questions, and the ways of thinking that will continue to shape whatever comes next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those are the things that stay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Footnotes<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

[1]<\/strong> I made the industry-academia transition at the not-so-young age of 28, after spending six years working on the signaling, telecommunications, and fare-collection systems of Chennai Metro Rail Limited<\/a>. My long-time partner and I had married only about eight months earlier. Clearly, quitting a stable job and beginning a PhD was the easiest and most sensible option available to us, with no pressure whatsoever. I mention this because the stage of life at which one begins a PhD, the responsibilities one carries, and the alternatives one leaves behind shape the experience considerably.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2]<\/strong> Even my admission to the PhD programme was somewhat accidental. I wrote the entrance examination largely to test the waters and boarded a train back to Chennai without waiting for the results, convinced that I would make a serious attempt in the next cycle. Midway through the journey, I learned that I had been shortlisted for an interview. I got off the train, returned to Hyderabad, attended the interview, and, for reasons that remain somewhat mysterious to me, received an offer. A few months later, after six years in industry, I was sitting in classrooms surrounded by the youthful energy of undergraduates.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hello, I am Prashant Kodali. I completed my PhD at IIIT Hyderabad nearly a year ago, advised by Prof. Manish Shrivastava and Prof. PK. My thesis was broadly about code-mixed and multilingual natural language processing, and I am now continuing my research journey as a Postdoctoral Researcher at Microsoft Research India. There is a tradition of graduating students writing about their time at Precog. I have read many of these blogs over the years, occasionally wondering what I would write when my turn came. Now that it has, I find that I do not particularly want to reconstruct my PhD as a sequence of semesters, projects, papers, and milestones. Every PhD follows its own path, shaped by choices, circumstances, luck, and many factors outside the student\u2019s control. A chronological account can make the journey appear far more deliberate and orderly than it felt while living through it. More importantly, that is simply not how I remember mine. When I look back, what stays with me most clearly are a few conversations, some unlikely opportunities, periods of uncertainty, and the people who gradually changed how I thought about research and work. Some of these memories may appear inconsequential to an external reader. To me, they are the landmarks through which I understand the journey. This is therefore not the PhD as it appears on my CV. It is the PhD as I remember it. This is written through a deliberately Precog-centred lens. Many others\u2014family, friends, collaborators, faculty members, and fellow researchers\u2014were part of the journey and influenced it deeply. That is perhaps another story for another day. And a fair warning: this is a long read, Finding my way into research My motivation for pursuing a PhD was relatively simple. I was very keen to leave my job and find my way into academia. I enjoyed teaching, and I liked the idea\u2014or perhaps a romanticised version of it\u2014of having questions in front of me that would make me want to return to work the next day.[1][2] Research-wise, I knew broadly that I wanted to work in natural language processing. What exactly within NLP interested me was still open. Frankly, I had not thought far enough ahead to have a carefully constructed research agenda. Around that time, Prof. Manish and Prof. PK had been discussing the possibility of working together on code-mixing. Prof. Manish and his students had a long history of research in the area, while Precog\u2019s work with large volumes of election-related social media data had also surfaced substantial amounts of code-mixed language. They were looking for a student to work at the intersection of these interests, and I happened to arrive at roughly the same time. On my first day on campus, I met Prof. Manish, spoke with him briefly, and then went with him to meet Prof. PK. I began working with Precog without ever formally applying or interviewing to join the group, which was unusual. This became increasingly amusing to me over the years because I would later participate in interviews for many students and researchers who wanted to join the lab. I occasionally wonder how the 2019 version of me would have performed in one of those interviews. My hunch is: a \u201cStrong Reject.\u201d In hindsight, having a concrete research problem waiting for me was extremely helpful. Had I entered NLP with the full range of possible directions in front of me, I am fairly certain that I would have spent a long time simply deciding where to begin. An abundance of choices can be exciting, but it can also be daunting when one does not yet understand the field well enough to choose among them. One of my earliest memories of speaking with my co-advisors was a conversation about how the three of us would work together. The message, as I remember it, was: “Prof. Manish has his style. Prof. PK has his style. By the end, you will have your own way of doing things.” The expectation was not that I would follow a recipe or learn to work exactly like either of them. Each person brought something different to the table\u2014at least both of them did; I was still figuring out what I brought\u2014and we had to find a way of working that made use of those differences. There was considerable research freedom embedded in that statement, something that students working with Precog or Prof. Manish would probably recognise. That freedom was valuable, but it also came with the responsibility of deciding what to do with it. Another major influence on my research journey was Prof. Monojit Choudhury. Prof. Monojit, along with Kalika Bali, Sunayana Sitaram, and others, had pioneered much of the work on code-mixing that I was reading when I began my PhD. One morning, I received a Slack message from Prof. PK saying that he had contacted Prof. Monojit and that we should present our work to him for feedback. There was something surreal about discussing my unfinished work with someone whose papers I had been reading to understand the field. Prof. Monojit subsequently became a constant source of advice. His ability to place a small research problem within the larger landscape of an area\u2014and to make sense of the mess I often presented\u2014remains a skill I would like to carry forward. The conversations I remember I do not recall one specific piece of technical advice that suddenly resolved a research problem or transformed the course of my PhD. There were countless discussions about experiments, framing, analysis, writing, and what to try next, but these are not the conversations that come to mind first. What I remember are the larger discussions\u2014with Prof. Manish, Prof. PK, and Prof. Monojit at different stages\u2014about what we wanted from research, what made a question worth pursuing, how professional choices interacted with personal life, and everything we believed was wrong with research and the systems surrounding it. These conversations were often long and meandering, and they did not always lead to an immediate decision. Their value sometimes became apparent only much later. One such conversation happened relatively early in my PhD. An important part of my work was not moving as expected, and while explaining the situation to Prof. Manish and Prof. PK, I had a fairly detailed account of why I was stuck. Prof. PK\u2019s response was, in essence: I think your mindset should be: \u201cI will keep moving forward. It is up to others whether they want to come along.\u201d The underlying situation did not change immediately, nor did the response suggest that research could be done independently of other people. What I took from it was simpler: irrespective of what others did, I still had to decide what I could do next. It was reassuring because it brought back a degree of control, even when the larger situation remained uncertain. At the same time, it placed the responsibility for finding the next step back with me. Another advantage of being part of a group such as Precog was that there were always people further along in the PhD journey. Their experiences provided occasional opportunities to look beyond the immediate experiment or deadline. I remember attending Rishabh\u2019s PhD defence during my third or fourth semester. Watching someone defend naturally made me consider the eventual shape of my own journey. Soon afterwards, Prof. PK asked me how I thought my PhD and its timeline would unfold. I am fairly certain that the answer I gave him bears little resemblance to the PhD I eventually completed. It was probably an approximation based on what I believed a reasonable timeline should look like. Nevertheless, the question remained. Defences, paper reviews, semester reviews, and occasional conversations created moments in which I had to step back from the immediate work and consider how the individual pieces might eventually fit together. The answers were rarely accurate. Periodically asking the question was still useful. \u201cI survived\u201d One of the most challenging periods of my PhD came after I became a father. Days of surviving on three or four hours of broken sleep left me with very little energy, and sustained reading, writing, analysis, or making difficult research decisions became especially hard. At the same time, I worried that the PhD would extend and about all the uncertainties associated with that possibility. During one conversation with Prof. PK, I was reflecting on the previous six months and saying that I should have managed my time better. He shared an experience from around the time he had become a father. In one of his own review meetings, his first slide had simply said: “I survived.” It was comforting to know that the struggle was not unique to me and that someone I regarded as extremely productive had also experienced a period in which survival itself was a reasonable update. I became at least slightly easier on myself. At that point, that helped. I have since repeated this story to almost every new father who has spoken to me about how challenging work and life can become after fatherhood. \u201cEligible? Apply?\u201d Another important moment came during a period in which I did not feel particularly productive, at least in terms of visible research output. When nominations for the Microsoft Research India PhD Award opened, Prof. PK sent me a short email containing exactly two words: “Eligible? Apply?” To be honest, I did not take the possibility particularly seriously. The award felt out of reach, and applying seemed likely to be a waste of time for something I was not going to receive anyway. I applied, and I was fortunate enough to receive it. The award did not directly determine everything that followed, but it began a series of interactions and opportunities that eventually contributed to my joining Microsoft Research India as a Postdoctoral researcher. It was my first meaningful opening into that ecosystem. A small intervention\u2014seeing an opportunity and asking me to apply\u2014ended up mattering considerably. It also represented something I have come to value greatly: being fortunate enough to have people who look out for you. Such people may notice an opportunity you have overlooked, encourage you to apply for something you consider beyond your reach, introduce you to someone, ask you to present your work, or support you through a period that is not going particularly well. I was fortunate to have several such people during my PhD. The people and the lab When I joined Precog, the group had a substantial PhD cohort\u2014including Hitkul, Shivangi, Ritwik, Nidhi, and Neha\u2014working across different research areas. There was usually someone who could help with at least part of a problem, whether by suggesting relevant literature, drawing on a similar experience, or pointing me towards the right person. The undergraduate students also helped set a remarkably high bar. I was often amazed by how independently they pursued ambitious research while managing a demanding course load. The people around us shape what we consider possible and, in turn, what we expect from ourselves. Anmol Goel was an especially important part of this journey: we began working together when he was an undergraduate research assistant, and he later became a co-author on most of the papers in my thesis and, more importantly, a close friend. As I became one of the longer-serving members of the group, Prof. PK would occasionally suggest that students speak with me. These conversations were usually not about technical details, but about uncertainty, rejection, stalled projects, and whether a difficult phase was normal. I rarely had solutions, but I could sometimes share a similar experience, help them think through the problem, or direct them to someone better equipped to help. Spending several years in the lab also gave me a clearer view of how differently students respond to freedom, pressure, criticism, and opportunity. Some need direct answers; others need a question, more space, a deadline, or reassurance. It made me appreciate that much of advising\u2014and much of a lab\u2019s culture\u2014is shaped through these ordinary but consequential decisions. What stays Looking back, I…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":280117,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,1528,1527,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6262","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-experiences","category-iiith","category-studentgiri","category-students"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6262","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/280117"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6262"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6262\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6263,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6262\/revisions\/6263"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6262"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6262"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/precog.iiit.ac.in\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6262"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}