I have never been a big believer in good luck, or bad omens for that matter, but going to India for my third time, now as a Banyan Impact Fellow, I couldn’t help but recognize my luck with auspicious timing. Having come in India for the first time roughly five years prior, I remember my host father in Mumbai emphasizing just how auspicious it was to be arriving at the start of the Ganpati festival, 11 days of worshiping Lord Ganesh, the destroyer of obstacles. Similarly, for our 2024-2025 Banyan Impact Fellowship cohort, touching down in New Delhi on the day of Dussehra, the completion of the Navratri festival and the celebration of Goddess Durga’s destruction of evil, seems to have had a significance that we are yet to see the full sight of…
Shifting to stay above my office in South Delhi, after our week-long Fellowship orientation, I was again met with significant luck and the ease of a new beginning. (This was, of course, after losing my purse, taking three cabs to a non-existent ATM, and almost not finding the site of said host accommodation, at all.)
My first day at work, I remember being riddled with anxiety and nervous excitement… I had had all of these assumptions about creating routines, falling into the office flow, but after a flurry of introductions (meeting the Vice Presidents and Directors across all three floors of our office and Org. Headquarters), my advisor Mohua told me the exciting news that the very next day, we wouldn’t be coming into the office. Instead, we’d be joining our organization’s fieldwork teams in a region-wide Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) workshop in the heart of the city.
Working with teams across the verticals of ACCESS Development’s work in farming, micro-enterprises, handicrafts and handlooms, we would enjoy three days of reflection while learning how to measure impact. All of this just before I begin my ten-month journey of supporting their livelihood programs and developing an assessment tool of our own. Talk about arriving at just the right time!
I entered the ballroom of Bikaner House that first day to see white walls with gold accents, three massive chandeliers, and open spaces with tables and floor seating. After settling into a spot next to a couple of other younger colleagues, we begin introductions. Sitting amongst people traveling from Himachal Pradesh, Rajasthan, Gujarat, and even just our headquarters office in Delhi, I’m blown away by the scope and scale of our projects. Meeting many different people in many different roles I am quickly introduced to Vidya, a Project Manager working in Odisha on an Farmers Producer Organization (FPO) project. She is roughly my age and was born and brought up in Kerala, a southern state with different dialects and regional cuisines. Bonded over our love for staple South Indian breakfast foods, I remember her giving me a kind smile, as she quietly explained some of the main aims she’s addressing in her project.
After our break for lunch, we returned to the ballroom and were told “Ek ghera banaen.” Unsure of what to do, I instinctively leaned toward Vidya just as she leaned toward me, and we both whispered, “Ghera?” at exactly the same time. The silence that followed hung in the air for a beat before we looked at each other, locked eyes and then erupted in laughter. Something uncontrollable. As everyone had already begun to “Make a circle,” we both could not seem to stifle our laughs. With Vidya growing up in a region where Hindi wasn’t widely spoken and my own grasp of the language somewhat limited, it felt rather hilarious that two of the few people in the room who didn’t understand the instructions had leaned in to ask the other for clarification. It was such a small moment, but the shared confusion created a camaraderie that set the tone for the rest of the day.
As we began the next drill, “The Power Walk,” we stayed together, first locking arms as everyone in the room was told to walk like a young girl going to school in Nua Patna, and then putting a hand on the other’s shoulder as we stumbled, “walking like an old man crossing the road in Guwahati.” Looking around the room, there was a playful energy as each prompt was met with confusion, with many unsure how to walk or portray a stereotype. Yet, everyone eventually found a way to embody some aspect of each identity. I couldn’t help but feel grateful to have Vidya there with me. The drill, aimed at exploring assumptions about identity, would have been difficult and even awkward for me as an outsider. Having someone like Vidya to guide me through the drill (once even kneeling as a child while she acted as a mother with three schoolchildren in Barmed) was invaluable.
After the silliness died down, we returned to our seats and were then asked to volunteer. Eight or nine people. I looked over at Vidya sitting to my right, and she was hesitant, I could tell, but on the third call for “one more girl,” she got up and joined the other volunteers at the front of the room.
These drills and the insights they divulged were yet one more gift in my luck of good timing. Having a session such as this exposing so much of what I will be doing gave me context and a reality check that I didn’t know I needed.
Standing shoulder to shoulder, almost as if behind an imaginary starting line, the facilitator Annubah handed each individual a piece of paper describing the life and identity of a character in which they would represent.
“I want you to reflect on this role and try to imagine the life of this person, who they are and what kind of challenges they face.” Annubah said. “I will read out different prompts and if you feel you hear a statement that applies to your character, take a step forward.”
“I have enough money to meet my basic needs all year around.” Vidya steps forward, along with a handful of others. “I regularly have time to relax and visit with my friends.” and again, another step forward. As the drill continues, we see the participants begin to skew, the intersecting identities of their character’s pulling each person in different directions. Although Vidya makes it far, it’s clear that there’s no one character that will reach the activity’s perceived finish line.
Passing around the microphone, we as an audience then made observations, trying to assume different aspects of the lives of the participants’. There was much debate about what the income gender religion and caste, but initial assumptions about these experiences were eventually shattered as identities were revealed.
Vidya, for example, acted as “a 45-year-old, female CEO working in Delhi,” while the man next to her and almost a full three yards back acted as “a mute person working in a school for the deaf in Chennai,” with a family to care for. Anubah, again reiterated, as she had said at the start, that there were no right answers. It is our job to acknowledge what we do not know as we see the similarities as well as differences, and the presence of multiple knowledges, truths, and oppressions that could exist in different contexts.
Listening to my new coworkers, we again analyzed understanding mobility and the privilege of being able to move comfortably between cities and different regions for jobs, work, education, etc.. Discussions regarding the never-ending implications of how the food someone eats, the area where they come from, their surname/last name, and native place can all have far-reaching effects on their lived experience and access to opportunity. And in each of these contexts, the understandings of gender, marital status, ownership, property, anatomy, familial relations, and agency—how quickly each of these specific experiences can changes based on the context of where we are…
Hearing the discussions of these portrayals revealed the extent of the Indian experience and just how little I really understand about… any of it. I had studied Indian development policy – the role of gender, caste, and capitalism. I had been to India for extensive periods of times, living with host families and studying Hindi …and yet sitting in the high-ceiling ballroom of Bikaner Palace, I felt I could live 100 more lives and still not even scratch the surface of understanding the seemingly infinite lived experiences of India.
Overwhelmed with a sense of inadequacy feeling that how could I, an outsider ever add meaningful value to a landscape so layered and nuanced? Scanning the room to see the smaller discussions and debates that had broken out my perspective began to shift when my eyes again landed on Vidya. She’d be heading back to Odisha soon—perhaps never crossing my path again (though I’m holding out hope for another M&E training in May!). Still, as I scanned the room further and saw the intensity of our team’s interactions, I realized there were countless “Vidyas” here—people with immense knowledge, experience, and wisdom. My eyes finally settle on my program team. My supervisor Mohua and our two project managers Puneet and Rishab all in a deep discussion. The three people who will be my closest coworkers over the course of this Fellowship. As I learn to walk there will be others with whom I can place my hand on for guidance and I can’t lock arms with. People who know how to walk the walk and who will help me find my own way of walking too.
A couple weeks later when on a vicious house hunt in Delhi, I had the privilege of discovering an apartment in a prime location with beautiful terrace, amenities, and a landlord that was willing to let me move in on the morning of Diwali (another incredibly auspicious day). Although I didn’t technically get the keys until the day after… Have it be fate, god or just dumb luck, I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for the opportunities that have arisen for me, the good luck of their timing and the teachings they afford.
