Tiny Precious Moments
On thriving & humility; Archives from my first month in Cambridge
I completed one month as a student at the University of Cambridge. It feels like an eternity. It feels like a moment. Perhaps what captures my feelings is the saying “The days are long but the years are short.”
So, I look back at some of the tiny precious moments from this special month of my life.
“How are you feeling about the transition, Sanskriti? It must be rough to come from India to the UK while also grappling with the intense academic life of Cambridge!”, enquires my kind professor.
“I will be honest! It is true that this is a difficult and demanding transition. But it has felt very rewarding and worthwhile! Much to my surprise, I took to it like duck to water. Maybe it was the universe being kind or perhaps my determined everyday efforts, either ways I have found a soothing rhythm in this chaotic journey.” I say in a reflective tone.
“That’s not something I get to hear very often. I am so happy for you. And, needless to say, do reach out if you get stuck.”
We both smile at each other recognising how precious this tiny moment is.
“How are you coping with this crazy new life, Sanskriti?” says a friendly classmate.
“I will be honest. I am not coping. Instead, I am thriving!” I shock myself as I utter these words.
Another classmate sitting next to us turns to me and says, “It really shows! You look so happy and confident all the time. It is inspiring. I always look forward to your well thought out and robust insights in the classroom discussions.”
I smile with gratitude and thank her.
I am learning to receive compliments well, ditching the old companions of awkwardness and dismissal. I am learning to own my moment of recognition and prosperity, ditching the old companions of self-sabotaging humility. I am learning to own my highs as much as I dwelled over my lows.
I go through a terribly exhausting and overwhelming first week in the classroom. It is intense and I struggle to keep up with the course work. I wonder if I am doing well enough. I feel dissatisfied with myself.
“This is what happens students! We select the most talented, hard working over achievers and bring them to Cambridge. And then expect even greater things out of them. Your elusive search for perfection and your obsession with success will be greatly tested here. Imposter syndrome might visit you often. Stay wise!” My professors words suddenly bring everything into perspective, like a key that unlocked blocked doors.
The next week is much better. I plan strategically. I study smartly. I pursue extra-curricular opportunities enthusiastically. “It isn’t perfect but I am getting there”, I say to myself daily.
I bid goodbye to my old enemy of perfectionism and say hello to the ever reliable friend of consistent progress and pragmatic expectation setting. I repeat like a prayer, “I will try. I will fail. I will mess up. I will get better. I will grow.”
“I got selected for two major programs - A fellowship on AI Safety and a program on Impactful Leadership” I tell my friend during our catch-up video call.
“You are killing it!”, she jumps out of her seat. “One month in and you’re excelling in areas of your choice already. This is what making the most of the Cambridge experience is all about. You are just the person meant for this”
“I don’t know how it is happening. God’s abundant grace! It is all going so well. Touch wood. Something feels so right. I feel it in my bones” I tell her as I fight every nerve in my body reminding me of my internalised conditioning of “nazar lag jaegi” (it will get jinxed")
“It is all going great and it will get even better from here. Your days of thriving are finally here after years of patient perseverance! Nazar na laga (may it not get jinxed)”
We both smile at each other recognising how precious this tiny moment is.
I sit in my Supervisor’s room ready to discuss my research plans with her. My nervousness is palpable.
“Let’s forget work for a moment. How are you feeling, Sanskriti?”, she says kindly.
“I am great. But, I miss my novels back home!” I suddenly blurt out while looking at her stunning bookshelf and immediately regret it.
“Ah! So we are both readers. How lovely! What kind of books do you like?”
“Hopeful. Heartwarming. Slice of Life.” After a moment’s pause I continue, “I enjoy academic and non-fiction books too. But those aren’t the ones I miss right now. I also miss my dog a lot. Everything else has been fine because of video calls.” I wonder what I am saying and why am I saying it. I want to run away from this personal moment in a professional set up. I feel exposed.
She smiles at me warmly. She pulls out a book from her bag and hands it over to me. “My husband wrote this book about our rescue dog. She is wonderful! I feel like you will like it and it will help you in this phase of life.”
“Are you sure?”, I say shocked by the magic of this moment which feels unreal even as I live it.
She nods reassuringly. “And, let me show you a bookshelf outside from which you are most welcome to borrow books.” She gets up and cues me to follow. I don’t feel so lost any more.
The next few minutes go well. She does well to put me at ease. I present my confident self to her as I speak about topics I am passionate and curious about. Every moment I feel grateful that this brilliant professor is my supervisor. Her guidance and nudging questions help me direct my next steps.
She was the one I wrote about in my Statement of Purpose while applying to Cambridge. I always wanted to work with her, inspired by her accomplishments and credibility. Little did I know that she will stump me with her generosity and warmth.
I come back home with a novel that feels like a hug. I place it on my bedside. I don’t feel I miss much tonight. I am content exactly where I am. Nothing is amiss.
“I love to see you in sarees on event days, Sanskriti! How do you manage with the rain and the early mornings? But, you make these spaces so inclusive by representing your culture with such grace and self-assuredness! You inspire me to wear my national dress. Some day soon!”, my thoughtful classmate from Africa says to me.
“It gets challenging sometimes. But, I love wearing sarees. And yes, representation matters. Also, most of these are from my Maa and Nani (grandma). So, in a way I feel like I bring them here with me. I stand on their tall shoulders as I make my way to Cambridge. I will make space for many like us, I hope. I don’t want to fit in here by becoming like others. I want to belong here by being accepted for who I am.”
She gently holds my hand and smiles affectionately.
I walk on the Waterloo bridge as I visit London for the first time in my life. I am headed towards the Indian High Commission for a Welcome Receptions for Indian students in the UK. I trace my memorable day where a dear friend showed me around her city, took me home for “ghar ka khana” (home cooked meal) and helped me navigate a new world with support.
I see the sun setting behind river Thames. I walk. I cry. I let the cold wind embrace my happy tears.
“Is this really my life? How did I get so lucky?”, I say it out aloud as I continue walking.
I pause in the middle of the bridge and stand on the side. I trace the gorgeous horizon, from the London Eye to the setting sun, and channel my inner Shahrukh Khan. “I feel like you’ve embraced me, dearest London. I don’t know what this mystical connection is like! But, I shall be back soon. I shall belong to you some day, Inshallah!”
“Do you miss home as Diwali nears, Beta?” asks Maa.
“I will be honest, Maa!”, I say and she nods from the other side during our hour long weekend video call.
“I love you all and Diwali is my favourite festival. But there’s something about celebrating it away from home that’s oddly beautiful! I don’t miss home because maybe I am happily consumed in building a home here.”
Maa smiles and sheds a tear. “Shukar hai rab ka! (Thank God) That is exactly what I needed to hear. To see you happy in your life there makes this distance so easy. I dreaded celebrating Diwali without you. Now, the celebration is double. It is festive, indeed!”
Home is here in this moment in time when I accepted that I don’t miss home. Diwali came early this year. Our worlds are lit up.
We both smile at each other recognising how precious this tiny moment is.
I come from a culture where humility is glorified to the point that we are used to shrinking ourselves down to non-existence. We will talk about everything but struggle to own our truths, especially if they are positive. We fear jinxing it.
So, this essay is me owning my truth and fearlessly sharing these tiny precious moments of my life. You can’t always stay happy or continue thriving. It may change any moment for me. But, with writing and sharing I get to absorb it, acknowledge it and meaningfully cherish it while it lasts.
I engage with life deeply, sometimes much against sane advices. In the past I have drowned myself in the debilitating sorrows of winters unabashedly. So, I shall immerse myself now in the flourishing joy of spring fearlessly.
I leave you, dear reader, with Mary Oliver’s beautiful words -
“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it…..Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”
Beautiful!
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives!!!
This is beautiful! All the best!