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My two months working and living in Delhi, India helped me discern a crucial part of my immigrant identity. Throughout my life, I have been raised with the cultures of both India and America in mind. Going into my summer internship, I felt that I belonged to both worlds and could handle living in India without too much trouble.

Boats rest at a stop within  Kerala’s scenic waters.

Upon my arrival, that illusion of belonging rapidly fell away. The sidewalks were packed to the brim with a conglomeration of people and shops. The streets were full of vehicles honking furiously and speeding past one another. The smells were pungent and the air thick and heavy with the blistering heat of the fiery sun. This was not at all what I remembered India to be like, and I saw that I had been heavily sheltered in my early upbringing and subsequent family visits to the country. I had stayed in comfortable homes, gone to the most scenic spots, and had never been exposed to the realities of everyday urban life. The rest of my summer went along with this notion of estrangement. Though I endeavored hard to adjust and came out of the internship satisfied with my overall contribution and growth, I could not shake the sense of alienation. There were always subtle but extremely telling signs of separation. For example, the other American interns, with their light hair and skin, often got long stares from passerby on the street. Meanwhile, I looked just like most of the natives in Delhi- dark haired and brown skinned. Surprisingly, I still got stared down when outside on my own. There was something off in my mannerisms- whether it be my gestures, expressions, or movements- that the locals could pick up on. They could somehow sense that I was not really from India.

Though I would miss my time in Delhi, I was somewhat relieved upon my return to the United States. I was expecting to seamlessly fall back into a world that I thought I certainly belonged in. I started my senior year of college with the usual routine of classes, extracurricular commitments, and sports games. Though I was happy and doing well, I felt oddly disconnected from my American friends. I now sharply discerned all the little influences of India in my daily life. There was the regular and painful longing for some good Indian cuisine (an elusive presence in the standard American college cafeteria). Next came the surprising disappointment in seeing American films without the extravagant dance numbers and melodic tunes that are staples of Indian cinema. Even the eerie emptiness of the large and open American roads irked me, as it was a world away from the narrow, crowded and vibrant frenzy of the Indian streets. These subtle nuances combined to create a strange but definite nostalgia for my country of birth. I saw that even in the United States, I did not belong with certainty- there still was and always will be a part of India deep within me.

A kitchen entrance at one of the SPYM juvenile centers.

These realizations have led me to conclude that the gap between India and the United States is profound, and I will never belong in either world with full certainty. Instead, I exist in the middle, as an immigrant: that is who I am, and I am at peace with it.

I am now six months out from my summer 2017 experience in Delhi, India. Upon return to the United States, I was immediately thrown into the usual packed schedule of modern college life. In class, I studied for hours to perform on my exams and finish up my degree. I came back to the activities I loved, volunteering every week at Ben Taub Hospital and getting back to the gym to prepare myself for the upcoming inter-mural soccer season. The job of leading a May medical brigade to rural Central America loomed on the horizon, and I met regularly with my co-presidents to start the planning process. To top it all off, there was the constant travel for medical school interviews, with each of the many trips giving me a brief and unique glimpse into a bright and exciting future for my next four years. The struggles and triumphs of my Indian summer soon unconsciously slipped into the recesses of my mind. My passionate efforts to aid juveniles struggling with drug abuse in the searing sun and ceaseless frenzy of Delhi seemed a world away.

A river scene from my summer travels through India.

Upon conclusion of another exhausting yet enjoyable semester, I returned home for winter break. I was immediately back in the hospital, not as a volunteer, but as a patient. Torn cruciate knee ligaments during inter-mural soccer meant that my break was going to be one of post-surgery inactivity. With ample time for mental reflection, I realized that during my six months back in the United States, I was very much in control and met with resounding success. A large part of this had to do with the fact that I fit into the environment around me. I knew how things operated in college, and more so, in the United States. I knew what people expected of me, knew how to manage and adapt to different situations, and felt comfortable with what I was asked to do.
This had not been the case in Delhi. Though I had ambition and passion, I often struggled due to the simple fact of not being in an environment I was used to. Whether it was because of the weather, the work style, or the social norms, I could not function or perform to my full capabilities. One of my main pre-trip training lessons revolved around the fact that in any area of the world, local citizens who truly know the environment around them are the ones best equipped to bring about true progress. This lesson certainly rang true in India: it would take months, perhaps years, before I could ever fully adapt to and understand Delhi. It went far beyond a simple appreciation of a foreign culture and way of life. It instead meant a full immersion into that culture- an entire new mindset when thinking and approaching most life interactions, decisions, and responsibilities. As a summer college intern, there was no way I could realistically make such a transition.

An artfully constructed garden from one of my trips through India.

Instead, I was there to make whatever impact I could within my limitations. That impact did not mean helping SPYM make an unforgettable, gargantuan step in the ongoing battle against juvenile drug abuse. The biggest triumphs and victories would instead occur far in the future, spearheaded by workers and advocates in India who best knew the needs and desires of the community around them. My job was to accomplish a much smaller task- extensive SOP revisions- that would help SPYM continue their mission long after my departure.

The essential lesson of my time in Delhi was acceptance and understanding. I accepted that in my limited role as an intern, I was not in any position to come back with a blockbuster tale of problem-solving. Instead, I had to find the drive to work within my limitations and do my smaller tasks well with the understanding that my seemingly miniscule efforts would advance a much larger objective down the line. Indeed, I got word a few weeks ago that SPYM took a big step towards implementing some of the protocols I had helped write! If kept up successfully over the coming years, this could lead to conditions and day to day life for the children at the centers significantly improving. Though nothing more than a small step within a larger picture, it was a worthy outcome that made my time in Delhi feel all that more memorable and meaningful.