A month ago, the thought of moving from Delhi to a small city in Gujarat was enough to give me chills. I’d never been away from Delhi for more than a week, and yet here I was, preparing to leave behind the only place I’d ever called home. The day I flew to Gujarat, I felt like my stomach had turned into a knot of nerves, almost as if my intestines were ready to crawl out.
The first days were a blur, starting with an overwhelming Orientation that ended before I could fully process it. I arrived in Bharuch on a weekend, exhausted and still absorbing everything from the week prior. I spent those first two days almost bed-rotting, buried in my hotel room, with little energy to explore or even think about what lay ahead. Looking back now, I barely recall my first day at my host organization. All I can recollect is meeting my supervisor, the founder, and being introduced to the organization’s mission and projects. But somehow, the day seemed to vanish before it even started. I remember feeling oddly deflated, not because of the people or the work—both my supervisor and the organization were warm and welcoming, but because everything felt so fleeting, like I hadn’t quite touched down yet.
The second day, however, was different. I was scheduled for my first field visit to Vidhyasathi, one of the organization’s educational initiatives. Mr. Janak Mori, Vidhyasathi’s project coordinator, picked me up from my hotel on his old Hero Honda. I think it’s safe to say he’s become my first real friend here, a talkative, warm-hearted soul who radiates a kind of dad energy, the complete opposite of me, a reserved, quiet introvert. We rode about 60 kilometers together, winding through two blocks of Bharuch where most of the population is tribal. The schools we visited, the Vidhyasathi teachers, and the students all left a strong impression on me that day, one I’ll save for another blog.
At the front gate of one of the schools, I noticed a majestic banyan tree. Its roots and branches stretched far and wide, grounding and sheltering everything beneath it—a beautiful, striking reminder of the values of the Banyan Impact Fellowship and my reasons for being here. In that quiet, sun-dappled moment, I felt reassured. The journey was just beginning, and though I still had so much to learn, I felt ready.
On our way back, in the evening, Mr Janak took me house hunting and also gave me a tour of central Bharuch, I remember sitting on that Hero Honda behind him, trying to absorb every knowledge he shared about the city, trying to balance on the bike and also trying to jot down everything on my notes app. We passed the Golden Bridge, and suddenly the sprawling Narmada River came into view—its vastness and serenity took my breath away. I was stunned by the sight of this long stretch of water, glistening under the fading light of the evening. It seemed almost unreal that such a pristine river could run through an industrial hub, coexisting peacefully alongside chemical plants and factories. It was, without a doubt, the highlight of my day. And so, my second day ended on this unexpectedly beautiful note. They say first days are meant to be special, but sometimes the magic doesn’t happen right away. For me, I’m happy to lift that burden off my first day, knowing that there’s so much more to come, with moments just like this waiting to surprise me along the way.
