February 21, 2025

24rth and Cross

Now settled into the day-to-day life here, I’ve recently decided to become a morning person. This is a big adjustment, believe you me. I am a notorious ray of negativity, early in the morning. But waking up to the sunshine on my face, gazing across tree canopies toward the striking blue roof of a nearby building, has become a quiet recharge a spark for my mind almost every morning.

Of course, this romanticized beauty is also accompanied by the symphony of blaring car horns, often louder than my alarm, but that’s beside the point. The promise of sunshine each day is a gift, one that I like to show my gratitude for with a morning walk. Whether it’s to grab a coffee or simply to soak in the rhythms of the Banashankari neighborhood, I’ve come to cherish this ritual. Sticking to the side streets both for safety and the sake of my still sleepy mind I’ve discovered a new kind of haven for free thought and movement.

Today, I was in such need of this decompression time that I chose to walk 24th and Cross east in the morning and west later in the evening, tracking the sun from rise to set. One walk led me to coffee and a godsend: good Wi-Fi. The other led me to the gym and the market for fresh fruit. Experiencing these streets in different lights took me back to the hundreds of walks in the quiet green of Ravenna or at least the quiet that exists beyond 47th Street.
With the broad leafed American chestnuts with the power to dent your car replaced with the not-so-native blossoming canopies, the pounding house music and die tournaments swapped for the sounds of fathers and sons playing street cricket under the watchful eyes of grandfathers while mothers freshly adorn their doorsteps with rangoli designs. It’s a different kind of movement, a different kind of pulse.
24th and Cross has become a symbol of my experience here. As discussed with friends over palak paneer this evening, a run through these streets feels less like an efficient method of exercise and more like a mental workout—an obstacle course of sorts, received with stares of confusion.

The faces questioning why I take life at this pace mirror my own recent questioning of my utmost prioritization of efficiency. It’s a reminder that not everything has to be maximized or minimized otherwise, we may blow past the journey and miss true understanding. A reassurance reaffirmed by Dr. Deborah that same day: that change is good, not a threat. That life and work don’t have to simply be a means to an end but a winding path we adapt to, even when like we’ve seen there’s a massive botomless hole in the middle of it.

These walks have become my deep breath a moment of calm after a bustling day spent stretching my mind in every direction. Balancing classes, future pressures, and anxiety with more recent foundation requirements. A reminder to stay present as familiarity encroaches, threatening the appreciation of the specialness and introspection this time away allows. A space and time apart from the external influences of Western culture, family, friends, group dynamics, and expectations that can dilute individuality.

So, as we approach the eighth week 52 days out of 72 completed, I will try to keep this mentality in the back of my mind, reminding myself that not everything needs to be rushed, optimized, or planned. Some things are best experienced at their own pace.

By,
Grace