Week 1: Kindred Spirits, Kittens, and Kheer
Thirty-six hours of transit.
A fleeting layover among Frankfurt’s piles of chocolates and local beer.
A 4:00 AM arrival under an unfamiliar sky.
The journey from the quiet fields of my hometown in Iowa to the vibrant heart of Telangana was a long suspension between two worlds.
Stepping onto the ICRISAT campus in the pre-dawn quiet, I watched the sprawling grounds reveal themselves beneath a canopy of stars. By the time I woke in my flat hours later, that quiet darkness had given way to an incredible teeming vibrancy. Walking around campus initially, I found myself surrounded by an amazing variety of plants I had never encountered before, all wondrously different from the much less tropical town of Johnston, Iowa.
That sense of discovery carried directly into my first morning at the office. The exhaustion of jetlag was quickly eclipsed by a much more prevalent nervous eagerness. Arriving early, I finally met my supervisor. I had spent weeks poring over her research, knowing her academic caliber, yet I was moreso inspired by her graciousness. As she walked me through the offices, the quiet reverence her colleagues held for her was palpable.
In our early conversations, a subtle and true understanding settled between us: this summer wouldn’t just be an exercise in rigorous research for me, but it would also be a holistic immersion into another way of living.
It was truly an invitation to view my own life through a vastly different, and deeply appreciative lens.
While my ongoing research is compelling, it is the human connections that are making this experience truly transformative.
I met my fellow intern, Vennela, and the bond was effortless. Between tasks, we traded stories of our families, traced the lines of our distinct yet shared backgrounds, and mapped out our hopes for the internship, career, and beyond. Having arrived a week earlier, she naturally became my guide. Our breaks turned into long walks across the campus, our conversations meandering as much as we did, eventually even devolving into impromptu peacock search once when we heard their chirps (we didn’t find them this week but we’ll see them the next!)
During one of these walks, she paused in the middle of a garden. As I stood admiring the delicate beauty of the Singaporean graveyard flowers, she quietly bent down, plucked it, and gently pinned it into my hair. It was a small dignified gesture, but in that moment, I felt profoundly seen and welcomed. While we snapped a selfie together, I couldn’t help but think of my favorite literary character, Anne of Green Gables, discovering her first true friend while away from home.
“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It’s splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.” — Anne Shirley
In the coming days, I would learn more about her not just as a colleague, but also as a friend and even Akka, or big sister. That same quiet tenderness seems woven into the very fabric of the campus ecosystem. Just outside our office door lives Cici, a fragile, older kitten with scrunched-up fur and a lingering eye infection. She greets the day and any visitors with a rumbling mix of purrs and growls. Initially feeling saddened by her state, I tried offering her pieces of idli, or soft steamed rice cakes.
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I soon learned, however, that she was actually already well loved. One of the institute’s esteemed department heads visits every single day to feed and check on her, a quiet ritual he has kept for over ten years. Witnessing a figurehead of such academic accomplishment dedicate a decade to the care of a nearly blind and fragile creature was deeply moving.
Passing Cici now, I am reminded of the intrinsic value of life, even in its smallest forms.
This communal warmth is something I experience daily in the canteen. My colleagues have patiently taught me the tactile art of folding a fresh roti to perfectly scoop up vibrant chutneys and rich curries, sometimes finishing the meal with bowls of sweet rice pudding known as kheer. The generosity here is effortless; those commuting often bring portions of their home-cooked meals simply to share. By late afternoon, we transition to the sacred daily ritual of the tea break.
We gather to sip spiced chai and get the chance to gossip and laugh against a backdrop of chirping birds. It is a slow mundane routine I have fiercely come to cherish.
Beyond the quiet rhythms of campus life, I learned that the fieldwork that enables the lab and statistical research also carries a thrilling momentum. Later in the week, I climbed onto the back of a moped for the first time and felt the warm wind rushing past as we sped toward the cultivation fields. Stepping directly onto the tilled soil, we spoke with local agricultural workers who were meticulously planting seeds in specialized fertilizers for a new trial.
The entire lifecycle of cultivation research was traced here: from the careful planting and harvesting, to the rigorous work inside the labs, and finally, to the iterative statistical analysis required to optimize crops for both maximum yield and vital nutritional value.
As the week wound down, that fast-paced momentum gave way to the stillness of the weekend. Now, it is Sunday. I am sitting on my balcony with a fresh cup of tea (some chai teabags), the evening air settling softly around me.
Reflecting on the sheer density of this first week — the people, the flavors, the quiet moments of connection, and the rigorous fieldwork — I am overwhelmed with gratitude.
If this is only the beginning, I cannot wait to see what the coming months will yield.
