When you search Dediapada, Gujarat into Google, the first thing you’d find are images of waterfalls, dense forests, and the great Narmada River, a westward-flowing waterway believed in Hindu mythology to have originated from the body of Lord Shiva. A quick scroll would present you with several different options for hiking and endless advice on locating hidden waterfalls, but aside from nature-related activities, information on the town is generally sparse.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious—and a little apprehensive— about what life in rural Gujarat might look like. In the days before leaving Portland, I stocked up on all kinds of supplies: water purification tablets, travel-sized flashlights, and even a small first-aid kit. I had no idea what to expect. During orientation in Delhi, I listened as other Fellows shared their excitement about being placed in bustling cities with endless attractions, and wondered how, or if, my experience would compare. When it came time to leave, I felt both uncertain and eager.
The first thing I noticed about Dediapada was how much it reminded me of home. The town sits in the southwestern part of Gujarat’s Narmada district, a region defined by its natural beauty. From the roof of my apartment, I could see endless stretches of green—rice paddies, fields of pigeon pea (toor dal, as the locals would say), and corn—some of the many crops cultivated by farmers in the area. In my first few days living here, I was struck by how similar two places nearly 8,000 miles apart could be. Walking to the office in a raincoat amid the waning weeks of monsoon season reminded me of trudging to elementary school during a gloomy Portland autumn. The earthy smell after a downpour, a mix of wet soil and leaves, was all too familiar.
It wasn’t that I was searching for Portland in Dediapada; rather, I found myself noticing small echoes of home everywhere. I’ve come to realize that home isn’t a place you leave behind, it’s something you carry with you, quietly shaping the way you see the world around you and allowing familiar comforts to appear in the most unexpected places.
The most significant similarity I’ve found between Portland and Dediapada is the sense of community. I think of the man who always offers vegetables to my supervisor and I on our walk home from work, stuffing them into our bags and refusing to let us go without accepting a few. I think of my coworkers, who cheer me on at garba despite my several missteps and clear lack of rhythm. I also think of the shopkeeper who greets me with a smile every morning as I turn into the alley that leads to our office. There is a quiet, reassuring quality to this town that gives it the same warmth and familiarly I associate with home. Both places move at their own unhurried pace. Mirrored human rhythms, just in a different cultural and geographic context.
There is something special here. I won’t claim that Dediapada and Portland are the same, but glimpses of similarity do exist, and in noticing them, I’ve discovered more about myself and what community truly means to me. Being so far from home has taught me to recognize, cherish, and even seek out those small threads of connection that make life feel more whole.
As I settle into my new role, in a new town among new colleagues, I find myself grounded by a poem from Rabindranath Tagore’s 1916 collection Fruit Gathering, a work that I happened upon in a bookstore just before leaving for India:
“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain but for the heart to conquer it.”
With these words in mind, I look forward to the next nine months.
References
The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Narmada River”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 8 Jun. 2025, https://www.britannica.com/place/Narmada-River.
