For the past four months people have asked me what I’m doing post-grad, what job I have, or how many interviews I’ve set up. I rarely receive a ‘normal’ look when I tell them I’ll be living in India. I usually get a strange half-grin with wandering eyes, their minds instantly picturing me sweating profusely in a 110 degree room, drowning in curry, engrossed by horrible body odor, feeding naked children, and then making some joke about arranged marriages. But to be fair, I’ve had the same pictures in my own head from time to time.

“So what are you actually doing in India?” My answer has become so routine that it almost feels like fantasy. I know what I’m doing, but they’re just words. Until I get there, it will remain that way.  I’ll be working for a textile company, Bagru Textiles. I’ll be in Rajasthan, about an hour from Jaipur in the town of Bagru. I speak zero Hindi. I don’t know much about Indian culture. I’m not even sure if I like Indian food. What do I know about running a business? I was a poly-sci major – I know as much about business as the menstrual cycle. So yes, I am pretty much walking in blind. Any other questions?

People stare with trepidation. They stare with fear, almost scared that I won’t even survive. Indeed, I’ve looked at myself with the same bold glare, asking myself, “what. in. the. world. are you doing?”

But that’s when I get this feeling of shear excitement. I can do this. What’s stopping me?

So what if I don’t speak the local language? One doesn’t need words to communicate. Food is food; I’ll be okay. Running a business? Sure, why not? I’ve learned from incredible professors, I’ve read famous texts, and recently received a wonderful liberal arts degree. I wrote a thesis, made presentations, worked with brilliant and hard-working students, foreign students, drunk, hungover and high ones too. I’ll get along just fine. And while many would say I’m in over my head, that Joyce and Shakespeare can’t prepare me for what is to come, I have to turn a blind eye.

There’s this strange confidence I have that I’d be lost without. Once I start thinking “I can’t this, I can’t that,” I shouldn’t even board that plane.  I’ve essentially attempted to transform every negative thought into something constructive – at least tried.  I’m not trying to change the world – I’m just trying to plant a seed. And one day, maybe, that seed will grow into a garden, and that garden will change a community – and maybe, that community will somehow change the world.

Honestly, I don’t blame people who look at me funny when I tell them I’m going to India. They genuinely hope I do well and stay healthy. My friends and family have been incredibly supportive, and it’s just the beginning. Am I being naive? Perhaps, but there is a fine line between ignorance and pragmatism, between dreams and drive.

Part of me wants to tell them they could do it too. It’s incredible how much doubt people have in themselves. I want to change that. I realized this not too long ago:

Last saturday I spent a relaxing weekend on Cape Cod with my family. Before I left for India I desperately wanted to run a marathon. I’d run many halfs, but not the full 26.2 miles. It was just something I had to do before I got on that plane.

There weren’t any formal races in the Cape, so I decided I’d do it on my own. My brother, with zero hesitation, said he’d pace me for the final 15 miles. So I laced up the shoes and hit the pavement. My mom and dad biked alongside me, handing me water as needed.

I’m telling you this because something happened at about mile 23. With 3.2 miles (5k) left I wanted to quit. My two-ish weeks of training hadn’t been enough – my legs felt like bricks, my achilles was popping in and out, and it felt like the cartilage in my knees had disappeared along with all my energy.

But I didn’t stop. I kept running, not because of the fans, (there were none) the prize ceremony, (there was none) or the free race t-shirt (wish there was one). I ran because something inside me wanted to push harder, challenge myself, and learn something new.

I know my experience in India will be full of mile 23’s: times where part of me says ‘no’, situations where I want to leave, quit, and fly home. There will be hard times, sure. But after all the unexpected, I know I’ll come out a better person; more importantly, I hope to leave a footprint behind that makes Bagru a stronger community, build a transformative, entrepreneurial business, and push toward a path of sustainable development.

This is an opportunity. It’s a chance to learn, to teach, and to create something meaningful. The journey starts now.