Wonder what I’m looking at. Probably not the camera.. I never cared much for picture time. Maybe Grandma in the kitchen, or my cousin Kabir playing with those little fat, plastic, primary-color hand tools. The yellow screw driver was my teething item of choice, mmm, yum. Definitely not looking at the camera, nothing interesting to learn from that thing.
This little expression is still quite standard for me most days: moderately intrigued observation. See, my family moved to a new state for every year of elementary school, both east and west coasts. The perpetual new kid must be observant and aware: quick to pick up on playground etiquette, and a good judge of character (snack sharers vs. snack stealers).
Despite the nomadic lifestyle of my parents, I had the best, most loving and nurturing home-place with my maternal grandparents in Nashville to return to each holiday and summer. Their house is nestled right between Vanderbilt University, Belmont University, and Music Row. Our neighborhood is largely an eclectic, progressive mix of professors, students, and musicians from all over the states and the world. I wouldn’t mind raising my own family here at some point… they’d actually get to see the leaves change in fall!
As a kid, I would wake up early with my Grandpa at 5 am each summer day to go to our farm, located 20 minutes outside of town in Ashland City. Picking traditional indian vegetables like bitter gourd, called karela and not for the faint of palette, special types of squash and radish that I’ll probably be eating this summer in Bathinda. If I grew hungry I would chomp into a plump tomato or snap a finger of okra right off the plant. I learned to love the land, digging my fingers into the soil and riding home with mulch in my hair. I wasn’t even bothered by the occasional tick behind my ear.
Grandpa and I would arrive home in time for Grandma’s incredible breakfast of chai tea, pancakes stuffed with berries from the farm, and a nutritious veggie omlette.
My Grandma has become one of my best friends. She taught me to read at the age of 3 and put me into school early, which is why I’m a year young for my grade. With frequent trips to the library and algebra lessons she kept me busy and inspired a real thirst for knowledge. She taught me to always be kind to others, thankful to have a strong, healthy body and a loving family to learn from.
My grandparents keep me humble and grounded. They provide my sister and I with an atmosphere of warmth, stability, and positive energy when there is sometimes an absence of this in our lives.
Nashville is my safe haven, my escape from the stresses of school and often times, from home. Imagine if instead of seasons, the weather alternated sporadically between a mild springtime day and raging tumultuous thunderstorms, occasionally accompanied by tornadoes. The stormy weather often comes at very inconvenient times, and any sunshine seems so ironic post-storm, as if nothing ever happened, and you want to just become bitter about the whole thing.
It would be easy, to blame the cyclical bad weather for your flooded home and your ravaged cropland, and to let the weather bog you down. A month of clear skies would hardly be anything to smile about because there is still wreckage all around, even if you try to cover it up.
As in any time of crisis, the survivors are either made stronger, or weaker as a result of the trauma they experience. As the older sibling, I only had the first option. Though I had some serious periods of difficulty trying to cope with the storms, I soon realized that someone in this crazy town needed to set an example for the sake of my sister Amira.
Similar to many siblings, my sister and I became much closer as we grew older. When I left for university she was only in elementary school, but she is now a freshman at my high school and I am only a year away from graduation. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Instead of bickering and taunting from down the hall, we Facebook chat about studies and online shopping.
Leaving home in San Diego to come to Santa Clara was bittersweet. I was so relieved and excited to finally be free and out of the storm’s reach, but I was also terrified by the thought of leaving my little sister alone to fend for herself. Although I had to learn to cope with the instability on my own, she’s the baby of the family and is much more emotionally sensitive to difficult situations. I urge her to be independent and always do her best as Grandma and Grandpa taught us.
It’s important to me to set challenging goals and to achieve them for my own ambition, but to show my sister that she can never allow herself to be limited by unfavorable circumstances. She inspires and motivates me to push myself beyond my limits and outside of my comfort zone. I find myself here often, and I’ve learned to love it. This is a huge part of why I was drawn to this fellowship. It’s similar to what I imagine skydiving to be like: with a little pep talk and nudge from an instructor, you leap out of the safety of the plane and what happens next could either be called flying, or falling. I prefer flying.
The lotus flower is revered in Buddhist lore because of the way it grows and blooms. Lotus plants are rooted in muck and mud, yet they produce some of nature’s most glorious flowers.
I know it’s possible to rise out of suffering and flourish… and I want to enable others to do the same. I want to give people the tools of empowerment, the mechanisms and models to rise out of poverty––to thrive, and let their livelihoods bloom.