Before starting the Fellowship, one of my most pressing questions was about what my day-to-day routine would look like. After being accepted, I asked a few alumni what a typical day was like, and they all gave the same answer: “It depends.” As someone who loves planning, I found that answer unsatisfying. I couldn’t explain to family and friends what my new job would involve because, honestly, I didn’t know. Not knowing where I’d live, who my friends would be, or what my routine would become made this even more daunting.
Now, as I prepare to leave Jamshedpur after ten months, it’s hard to remember that feeling. I’m leaving with the fulfillment of having completed meaningful work, along with lifelong friendships and memories I’ll carry with me for a long time.
This blog is my attempt to capture one version of a “day in the life” of an AIF Fellow. Every fellowship experience is different, so yours will almost certainly look nothing like mine. (Unless you’re placed in Jamshedpur—in which case, please reach out so I can point you toward the city’s best kathi rolls, crispy palak chaat, and Biscoff cheesecake.)
Like everyone, I went through different phases during the year: ambitious early-morning gym routines that didn’t last, stretches of cooking every night, and others where my stove collected dust. Some days were predictable, while field visits brought constant surprises. So rather than the typical day, consider this a typical day in my life in Jamshedpur—inspired, perhaps, by watching one too many “day in my life” Instagram reels.
I wake up to bright sunlight streaming through my window. In eastern India, the sun rises surprisingly early, so if I forget to close my curtains, the 5 a.m. light becomes my alarm clock. I shuffle into the kitchen, still half asleep, and grab the breakfast that has carried me through most of the fellowship: overnight protein oats. It saves time, keeps the apartment cooler during the summer, and fuels me for hours. Alongside it is my daily non-negotiable—a glass of Nescafé Ice Roast. Instant iced coffee may be one of the greatest inventions of all time, and I was disproportionately excited to discover that my rental refrigerator had a freezer compartment for ice.
On mornings when I resist the temptation to hit snooze, I have over an hour to get ready—a dramatic change from the 15-minute scramble that defined my mornings back in the U.S. I’ve come to appreciate slower starts. Before my fixed auto-rickshaw driver arrives, I usually spend a few quiet minutes journaling or working on an embroidery project.
The ten-minute ride to the office is short but full of familiar sights. We weave past vegetable vendors arranging their produce, chai stalls already bustling with customers, butchers preparing the day’s meat and fish, and roadside eateries serving crispy dosas and steaming cups of chai. There’s an organized rhythm to the neighborhood that I’ve grown to love. Despite the traffic, crowds, and honking, everything somehow flows smoothly.
At the office, I’m greeted by smiling colleagues, and our mornings begin the same way: chai, coffee, nashta, and a debrief of everything that happened since we left the day before. More often than not, the snacks become my second breakfast.
Most of my work days are spent editing educational videos on home-based newborn care skills for Sahiyas, the community health workers who support mothers and newborns across Jharkhand. The videos are designed to provide practical, on-demand skill refreshers that can be accessed on their phones whenever needed. Between editing, script revisions, meetings, and conversations with colleagues, no two workdays feel exactly alike.
Around 1:30 p.m., we head to the canteen for lunch—a familiar rotation of dal, chawal, and subzi. On cooler days, a few of us squeeze in a couple rounds of badminton behind the canteen before reluctantly returning to our desks, slightly sleepier after a generous serving of rice.
I leave the office around 5:30 and head to the gym, which has become my “third place” in Jamshedpur – the space I spend the most time outside of home and work. Beyond giving me a routine, it’s been rewarding to watch myself get stronger over the past several months and realize I’m lifting heavier weights than before. The ride
home offers a different version of the city. As dusk settles, street vendors light their coal stoves to grill chicken skewers, cooks toss giant woks of hakka noodles over open flames, and steam billows from momo stalls. Piles of watermelon, lychee, and other seasonal fruits glow under warm lights, and I’m tempted to ask my auto driver to stop so I can buy a snack.
By the time I get home around 7:30, I’m tired but satisfied. Around 10 p.m., there’s a familiar knock on my door—my next-door neighbors inviting me over for dinner. We sit cross-legged on the bed in their living room, sharing curd rice and subzi while watching The Middle, an American sitcom. The episodes inevitably spark conversations about family life, cultural differences, or some odd American custom I’ve never thought twice about, leading to plenty of laughter.
Before bed, I usually call my family back home or spend a few minutes journaling about the day. It’s a quiet ritual that reminds me how much life can change in the span of a year. The routine that once felt completely unfamiliar has become ordinary, and that’s probably what I’ll miss most. While every fellow’s experience is different, I hope this glimpse into mine offers reassurance that, eventually, the uncertainty gives way to a place that feels like home.
