What Delhi has taught me, is how to fully embrace my role of outsider. I’ve learned to laugh when I mess up and not be upset when the mystery menu item I chose was most definitely not what I was expecting. I’ve learned that standing for a nearly three hour long bus ride is not just a terrible thing that might have happened, but a funny experience and a story for back home.  I’ve learned that being a privileged outsider allows you to push boundaries. As Fulbrighters we can ask questions that few people get to ask. There’s a technique to asking of course— 1) genuine intentions (you really do want to know what the person you’re asking thinks 2) commitment to what could be an extended conversation, and 3) a dash of innocence and charm.  

Being an outsider has allowed me to have conversations about our honorable President-Elect, about colourism and Islamophobia, Pakistan and Kashmir, about which guests are always treated like Gods here and which are usually not (mainly African, Bihari and Northeastern migrants), about caste and class, liberation for women and sexuality, about demonetization and Indigenous peoples right to land. These conversations are not easy, and the best conversations I’ve had happened with friends, not strangers. It’s one of the many reasons why we have to make a conscious effort not just to hang out with each other. 

 Having my fellow Fulbright squad has been a godsend to say the least. At the risk of sounding cheesy, they are my life jacket, my concerned parents, my Chance the Rapper listening party on a bad day, my life-long friends. We've created spaces (mainly my living room) that transport me back to college, and conversations that make me feel at home. They’ve been amazing, but being present in this culture and place, embracing the role of outsider, it only really happens outside of these spaces, with newfound Indian friend