As the Fellowship comes to a close, I have found myself reflecting on all the people in my life that have gotten me through these past ten months. Family members, friends from home, colleagues, my fellow fellows—it warms my heart to think about the network around me that helped make life in rural Gujarat less daunting in the initial months, and more colorful in those that followed.
The initial weeks in Dediapada seemed to drag on endlessly. The transition was harsh, and I often found myself with a lot of time and not much to fill it. Connecting with people became the easiest way to bridge that gap. I carefully navigated timezones to call my friends from home, deciphering their life and career updates as my ceiling fan operated on full blast. I checked in with my parents and siblings, fielding their endless questions about what town looked like, where I bought my groceries, and how the mundane, everyday parts of life here actually operated—sending back photos as proof, as if to say, look, this is real, this is where I am now. And it was always grounding to hear from other fellows, comparing the fun new shapes our lives were taking in different corners of the country.
The foundation of many of these connections was none other than WhatsApp. Through photos, videos, voice memos, and the occasional poll (for important group decisions), I managed to stay connected to the people I love most, from thousands of miles away. Of course, I was also building a new life here. New places and routines, new people who’d come to mean a lot to me by the end. But there is a particular comfort in staying close to those who already knew me, whether that meant years of history or just a shared understanding of what this experience was actually like.
Some friends downloaded WhatsApp for the first time and created profiles just to stay in touch with me, others reactivated accounts that had long sat unused. It made me grateful for the kinds of connections that are worth maintaining, even across distance, even when it takes a little extra effort. Then there were my colleagues, people I saw every single day, in person, and yet being connected with them on WhatsApp added something different. It felt like a small extension of the friendships we were already building, full of jokes and check-ins that didn’t need to wait for the next workday. I hope to keep talking to them, keep sharing these jokes, long after I leave Dediapada.
It’s strange to look back and realize how big of a role an app played in keeping me connected. I sometimes wonder what this experience would have looked like without it. Whether the distance would have felt heavier, whether I would have felt more alone in those earlier weeks than I let myself admit. I’m grateful I didn’t have to find out. WhatsApp was the thread that kept me tethered to everyone I love while I was somewhere completely new, and it made the distance feel survivable and ordinary.
As I get ready to leave Dediapada, I find myself oddly sentimental about an app, but I think what I’m really sentimental about is everything it carried for me. The voice notes from my parents. The friends who showed up in a new format just to stay close. The colleagues who became so much more. The fellows who understood, because they were living it too. There is something about having someone bear witness to your life when you’re somewhere new that makes the place feel more real, almost like it grants your existence there a kind of credibility. Sharing small details about the weather or a strange interaction at the fruit stand, whatever it was that day, made it feel less like I was just passing through, and more like I was actually living it.
At the time of writing this blog, I am preparing to leave Dediapada in just a few days, somehow trying to cram everything I brought with me and everything I’ve collected over ten months into two suitcases. I cannot believe how quickly the time has passed. It’s a strange feeling, knowing this chapter is closing, but I mostly just feel grateful for all that I have experienced in this short time—the good, the bad, and even the small, ordinary moments that never made it into a blog post. In the end, it seems that this was never really a love letter to an app, but a love letter to everyone on the other end of it, who made the distance disappear one message at a time.
I will miss everything about my time here in Dediapada, and in India, dearly.
