Hello, World.
How writers become coders.
“I’ll teach you how to code.”
My dad looked at twelve-year-old me expectantly. “Code?” I asked, stunned.
Poetry and language had always been my choice of study– I reveled in words and emotions. Though my dad, an entrepreneur running an IT business, had repeatedly tried to foster my interest in mathematics and science, I stuck resolutely to literature. The Divine Comedy consumed my thoughts, not Euclid’s division lemma. It was ridiculous. I could never learn how to code.
However, younger me also did not want to disappoint her father. “Fine.” I said.
Three years later, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen my dad as excited as he was then.
Either way, five minutes after agreeing, my dad plunked me down in front of the computer with two windows open: Visual Studio Code and Learn Python The Hard Way. I mentally resigned myself to a dreadful bore and following his careful instructions, opened up Command Prompt.
“Now all you have to do is write print (“Hello World”).” Dad grinned. I shrugged and began to type. He sucked in a breath. “In the text editor.”
“Done? Now go to Command Prompt and type run test.py .”
And there it was, Hello World in all its glory, appearing in the prompt like magic.
I audibly gasped.
My dad’s smile widened.
Over time, my fingers became more skilled, flying over the keyboard, crafting code the same way I crafted poems. Each syllable in a verse was each function in the program. Carefully put together to make a delicate, flowing whole. I learnt dactylic octameter alongside Django. Haphazardly scribbled haikus contested with MySQL for space in my notebook. I began talking to my dad more. We banged our heads against frustrating errors, laughed about how simple the solutions were. He told me about the coding world and I listened with absolute fascination.
Somewhere along the line, between hours spent coding a blog in Django and practically screaming “Eureka” everytime resolving an error, I developed an interest in business. Once again, my businessman father cultivated my interest– something that led me to win two national competitions in as many years.
It’s a cold January night. My dad and I are sitting in a warm blanket, typing away on our laptops. Last year, I published From A Young World– a collection of twenty poems. Right now I’m preparing my business document for CSIR Jigyasa. Another national competition for a hatrick.
My dad glances over my shoulder. I’ve far surpassed the languages and frameworks he knows. “Remember Hello World?” He chuckles.
I smile in response. Hello world, indeed.
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