Before landing in Hubli at the end of August, I had been to India twice. The first time, in 2003, I came as a Hindi student turned part time anthropologist. I lived for six months in Varanasi, practicing my Hindi and doing research on the dichotomy between water pollution and purity of the Ganges. After I obtained an MA in Anthropology of Development from SOAS, I came back last summer, in 2009, for three months doing research on development projects as a UNICEF India KCCI Intern in Maharashtra.

When I went back to Italy, I knew I wanted to return to India for a longer time to work in development. Then the Deshpande Foundation Sandbox Fellowship caught my eye as I was browsing opportunities on Idealist. Living for one year in India, in a small town such as Hubli-Dharwad, working with a local NGO sounded exactly like what I wanted. From my previous experiences, I knew it was going to be one of those challenges that crucially shape you and teach you a lot. This is exactly what I am doing right now, almost three months into the fellowship; the experience has been a lot of work and learning, a whirlwind of feelings, thoughts and reflections, the chance to experience extremely different environments and meet with a variety of people, not to mention the building of relationships and friendships with the locals and the other fellows.

Weeks are long and quite exhausting: we work Saturdays, which definitely makes a big difference in terms of stress compared to a five day work week. Also, we are out and about quite often. I travel by bus to my office everyday and then between Hubli and Dharwad a few times a week . These journeys are rarely relaxing, buses are packed at peak hours (picture a bus with open doors and people hanging out of them) and the omnipresent honking leaves me temporarily deaf every time.  In fact some of the buses have such powerful horns that I have to get off and wait for another bus or else I will lose my hearing altogether. Even though the bus ride seems to be never ending at times, it’s an unexpected joy because it allows me plenty of time to practice of my favorite pastime: people-watching.

Among us fellows, we spend a lot of time discussing how different India is from home, which is absolutely true, but for certain things I think India is not all that different from what we are used to.

Take the bus for example: it feels the same to me as any other bus commute I’ve been experiencing in Italy or London. The bus population is basically the same: school children, college students revising their notebooks, men and women going to work, probably in an office, men and women going to the market, travelers coming from some other town loaded with bags, construction workers with paint stains on their clothes, doctors and nurses going to work in one of the big hospitals on the main road. It is true, here people tend to go to work and school later than in the West, they dress differently, some of them don’t have shoes and keep spitting paan outside the window. If the bus is too crowded and you have to stand you can just leave your bag or your child to a complete stranger, those lucky ones who are sitting, who will keep it for you until you, or they, get off.

On the buses running between Hubli and Dharwad I find the same atmosphere and energy I always found among people going to work everywhere in the world: sleepy in the morning, tired in the evening. Some people are prone to argue for the smallest thing, some are all smiles and kindness, ready to leave their seat to anyone who needs it more than they do. Some bus riders blatantly daydream, usually the young boys and girls. Small children cry and mothers reprimand them, try to make them stop using a variety of means from smiles to a warning. Some are deep in thought or recollection, or worry, some gossip or exchange furtive glances back and forth, some keep staring at a math books hoping that it will help for their exams. Others talk on their mobile phones uninterruptedly, some, like me, stare out of the window and enjoy the breeze and the different nuances of the monsoon sky.

I am sure many people will hate it but being on the bus is powerfully fascinating to me. I think it is one of those small things, like getting to know people in your neighborhood by name, that makes you feel at home, no matter where you are. And this ‘feeling at home’ vibe, so unexpected and so pleasant each time it occurs, is exactly what I was hoping to experience while picturing how my life here would have been.