Minerva Fellowship Part II


You can’t stop time. No matter what you do, it’s always there—hidden and forgotten—rarely noticed in day-to-day life. This isn’t about minutes or alarm clocks, appointments or curfews. It’s about the constantly flowing time, inescapable and ineluctable, a nonlinear reality that you embrace or refute. And in the end, it’s up to you.

My time in India has been precious and delicate, while also neglected and insignificant. The Minerva Fellowship program has a progressive and laudable approach: freedom, trust, and independence. There are no check-ins, progress reports, or evaluation sheets. I was sent on a flight to India with a handshake and “be safe, we’ll see you in nine months.” And, with those parting words, for the first moment in my life, my time became my largest adversary, and biggest tool for productivity.

I’ll never forget when Professor Hal Fried, one of the great minds behind the fellowship program, was discussing some past fellows’ experiences abroad. Many have done great things. Others, while certainly enjoyed incredible experiences, struggled with what to do much with their time. In Hal’s words, “x person basically lived in a tree for nine months.” The point Hal was trying to make, that I now understand, was that you’re on your own: completely, utterly, alone.

I have no supervisor, no boss, no daily responsibilities and no professors. There’s nothing stopping me from living in a tree, becoming a spiritual Guru, or starting my own orphanage. I can do whatever I want, when I want, and how I want. It’s a recipe for the most beautiful of disasters, for unrealized creativity—even boredom.

I didn’t realize the magnitude of this freedom until about halfway through my fellowship. I’ve always been a creature of discipline. When I left Union last spring, I had a clear set of goals, outlining what I was going to achieve and how I would do it. I had a list of people I was supposed to meet and where I could meet them.

I’d noted how much time I should be working, how much time I should spend in Bagru, how much time I should travel, and how much time I should spend reading, learning Hindi, and blogging. I had lists on lists, still saved on my computer to this very day. At times during the first few months I scanned over these lists. Have I met x person yet? Have I achieved x goal? Have spent enough time on x project? In the end, none of it mattered. I’m the only judge of how I spend my time; I’m a tough critic.

I sincerely think part of this habit to self-review stems from my education. For my entire life I’ve been judged, assessed, and graded on different sets of criteria. GPA’s, resumes, transcripts and feedback forms were once everyday realities – now, they’re distant memories. If you think anyone in India has asked me about my internship experiences or subject of my thesis, you’d be a fool.

I came to a point a few months ago when I asked myself the most difficult question:

What am I doing?

I wasn’t reflecting on the absurdity of my life here; I wasn’t thinking about the cultural differences, the food, the spirituality, or the stares I get eating lunch every day. I’ve moved past all that, accepting myself as an American-Indian HinJew.

Instead, it was a question about how I’ve been spending my time. In a recent conversation with my fellow Fellow in Uganda, Joe Hinderstein, he said, “I can wake up everyday and teach children English, sexual education or geography because I’m ‘supposed’ to. But, is that how I really want to spend my time?” There’s no right answer to that question. If Joe goes on a run or takes a nap instead of teaching English, that’s okay. He’s trying the best he can, looking at the big picture. And Joe’s right: we can’t only focus on the “now,” but rather look at the if, then, and how.

Most people advise me to “live in the moment.” While the cliché has its merits, at some point we have to look at time thought alternative lenses. What has the past taught us, what do I want in my future, and how am I using the present to get there? Time is layered; we can’t always ‘be’ in the moment, so let’s use it instead. Let’s think about it. Let’s build another step, ascending the ladder to the future.

I want to come home after this fellowship knowing that I spent my time wisely. That I had a balance of joy, hurt, comfort, and pain. When it comes the Minerva fellowship, there are three groups that my time belongs to:

  • Union College. (as a representative of the college, I am responsible to spend my time in accordance with the fellowship values).
  • ‘Selfless’ time: spending your time for others’ benefit.
  • ‘Personal’ time. Using my time to grow and learn, as well as travel and for my own leisure.

When I broke down these categories, I asked myself difficult questions about how I was spending my time, whom it was benefiting, and how I wanted to spend the remainder of my fellowship. These questions eventually opened the door to a whirlwind experience: My Minerva Fellowship, Part II: Studio Bagru.