by Emma Hines
In a quiet hall on the fourth floor of Meta Glass, a residence hall for first years at Sweet Briar College, an alarm went off at four a.m. The alarm wasn’t the result of a careless swipe on a darkened phone screen by an overtired college student: it was time for Meenakshi Verma to make the long trek to Babcock, Sweet Briar’s theater and performing arts studio, for some zumba. Careful to not disturb her sleeping roommate, she tied up her waist-length, dark hair with a clip as red as her hair tips, and dressed in simple workout clothes. She accessorized with a pink lanyard that held her keys, which were what allowed her into Babcock despite the early hour, and a pair of white headphones. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the headphones went over her ears and the music started blasting.
Verma’s playlist consisted of an unusual and high-energy mix of both Indian and American pop songs that inevitably led to her swaying her hips, even when she was sitting at her desk trying to study. She liked songs with a good beat, as they were better to dance to and usually have more interesting music videos. Her photographic memory allowed her to watch a dance routine and replicate it easily; Verma was glued to the television as a child, but not to watch cartoons like her brother. “I watched television, but the thing was that I only watched music channels, and that’s it! We have thousands of music channels in India where they just play music videos and advertisements,” she explained.
There was difference when Verma danced alone and when she danced with others: when she danced alone, she was serious, concentrated. She focused on getting the moves just right, on matching the beat perfectly, and on working up a sweat. Of course, she loved to dance by herself, but when she danced with others (though usually not at four a.m.), she lit up in an entirely new way. Her friends saw this in action at the recent Founder’s Day formal dance held by Sweet Briar, which Verma attended.
Hours before the dance, Verma stood in her dorm room with a dozen different outfits draped over her bed. She and her friend, Bryanna Ortega, stood over them, debating about which Verma should wear to the dance. Ortega gingerly brushed her hand over a beautiful crimson sari that was dotted with white pearls; though Verma wanted to wear it, she was nervous.
Verma explained that her closet at Sweet Briar was much different from her closet back at home. In India, Verma had only worn a sari twice, both times for formal occasions. She wore her uniform to school, but mostly dressed as any modern girl would: jeans, leggings, crop tops, and sweaters made up most of her closet. But once she decided to come to America, she felt she needed to do a better job representing traditional Indian culture, which included dressing in a more traditional way. The red sari, which she had worn to her high school graduation, consisted of a simple red skirt, a gold top tailored specifically to Verma’s measurements by her mother, and the wrap component, which was what the word “sari” actually refers to. The sari was a sheer red material, trimmed with gold that matched the top, and was long enough to wrap around Verma’s body multiple times. Verma, though gushing about how beautiful the sari was, was hesitant, and asked Ortega if she should wear it to the formal or borrow a dress from someone else.
This hesitation, though over something relatively small, was indicative of the larger culture clash that Verma often found herself struggling with. An international student originally from Lucknow, an urban city in northern India, life at a small women’s liberal arts college in rural Virginia was difficult to navigate. Verma was used to a fast-paced life in a city of grand temples and skyscrapers, bustling with a population of nearly three million people. In comparison, Amherst, the town that surrounded Sweet Briar College, had a population of about two thousand. There were no temples or skyscrapers to be found in the Appalachian mountains; only quiet country lanes and quaint little houses. Though she knew that Sweet Briar was small and somewhat isolated, she looked forward to getting to know people more intimately in such a close-knit community. Her outgoing personality quickly helped her accomplish just that: she soon had many American friends who were more than happy to help her adjust to her new life.
Ortega ordered her to try the sari on. Verma sheepishly admitted that, both times she wore a sari, her mother helped her put it on; she had only a vague idea of how to properly wrap it. Fifteen minutes and one YouTube video later, she stood in the center of the room and did a twirl so Ortega could look at her from all angles. The fabric of the sari perfectly matched Verma’s red hair tips, which Ortega herself had helped dye only a few weeks prior. “Wear it!” Ortega exclaimed. Verma, laughing, consented.
On the dance floor that night, she looked stunning. The gold-trimmed edges of her sari, saved from dragging on the ground by her heels, barely brushed the floor whenever she did a twirl that flung her hair out behind her. Though she liked the American songs that were played (particularly “The Wobble,” a popular line dance her friends had taught her a few days before) she squealed with delight when one of the Indian songs she requested (“Dilbar,” her go-to) came on. Her friends formed a circle around her as she danced, her movements timed perfectly. So lost in the motions, she at first didn’t notice when the circle grew from just her friends to a whole group of spectators; it wasn’t until one person exclaimed, “Where did she learn those moves?” that Verma glanced up and grinned. Once she finished her routine, she laughed and smiled as people applauded, and for the rest of the night, happily promised people she’d help them when they approached her to say, “I want to learn how to dance like that!”
Four hours after rising before the rest of the campus, Verma was back in her dorm, getting ready for the day. After returning from Babcock, she took a quick, cold shower, and toweled her hair dry as she browsed her closet for a suitable outfit. Verma was fond of bright colors and bold patterns, which she usually paired with a pair of dangly earrings. Verma never left the room without carefully applying kajal—a special kind of makeup that looked like regular black eyeliner but actually held important spiritual connotations—to her eyes, which, when she was running late, meant that she sometimes had to sacrifice something else: breakfast. Though she attempted to keep a similar schedule at Sweet Briar as she had in India, Verma found it increasingly difficult to wake up as early as she used to. “I’ve become lazy!” she would often remark when she slept through her 4 a.m. zumba practice, or had to attend classes in her pajamas when she overslept. 4 a.m. zumba had been a part of her regular routine since she was in grade 10; though uncommon for girls her age, her irregular schedule was part of who she was. She’d expected to be able to easily keep the odd hours in America, and was frustrated to find otherwise. She felt that leaving India had changed her—and wasn’t yet sure if it was for the better.
Verma’s first time on a plane was when she flew to America—accompanied only by her suitcases—to attend Sweet Briar this August. During her junior year (though she would call it “grade eleven,” as there’s no such thing as “freshman,” “sophomore,” etc. in India) of high school, Verma decided she wanted to study abroad. She considered attending college in other countries, including places like Canada and Australia, but chose Sweet Briar because an older girl from her high school, Manya Singh, had gone there and really loved it. Singh, a friend of Verma’s, was a few years older, and ended up leaving Sweet Briar before Verma arrived. However, Singh was able to give Verma good advice. “Doing bio and choosing SBC for that is the best thing that you can do, Meenakshi,” Singh wrote to her. “Trust me, SBC is the best college available for environmental and bio studies. So many field trips, research, close bonding with professors, and hands-on experience in the environmental/bio field that SBC has. Truly amazing!” Verma was also encouraged to apply to Sweet Briar by her school counselor, and knew it was the place for her once she saw what the grounds looked like. “When I had a virtual tour of this college, I was like, oh my god, this is the college I’m going to!” she said.
A 2017 article by School Apply showed that India has the second-highest population of students who choose to attend college internationally. Reports by World Education News and Reviews found that, in the 2014/15 year, almost 300,000 Indian students enrolled in India’s top seven international college destinations, the most popular of which being the United States. While that sounds like a large number, it’s a very small fraction of the total Indian college student population. 2018 statistics provided by the Indian Ministry of Human Resource Development show that only about 25.4% of males and 23.5% of females enroll in higher education at all, the majority of which stay in India for the duration of their college years. Most Indian college students are from urban areas.
No official studies have been done on how the caste system, which is still very present in India, influences who studies abroad and when. On Quora, an online forum, Indian students who have studied abroad discussed their experiences under a thread titled, “Do students really leave India to study abroad because of the reservation system or is it just an excuse?” The controversy that was the main subject of the thread was whether or not the reservation system in India—which functions much like affirmative action does in the States, meaning that institutions must meet certain quotas of students from disadvantaged castes—caused people of higher castes to leave India in higher numbers. “Reservations are not the only reason for people leaving India!!! There are a host of other reasons as well,” one user wrote, but a couple of replies down, another user started his post with, “[The] bitter truth is yes people are leaving India due to reservation system.” Verma briefly discussed the caste system, but it wasn’t a factor in her decision to study abroad. She firmly believed that the reservation was fair and that it would increase the number of educated people from lower castes.
Though the percentage of Indian international students is relatively high compared to other countries, Verma is one of only a few hundred thousand to study abroad in a country with a student population of about 20 million. In her graduating class, Verma was the only student to decide to study abroad. “Many [students] do apply, they do get scholarships,” she said, “but they don’t commit to going abroad. I’m kind of a superstar at my high school right now!”
Verma excelled in her dance class, where the students were allowed to choose their own music and created their own choreography. Though the texbook work was dense, Verma loved the majority of the assignments because the class allowed her to focus on her favorite dance styles: “I like Western, I like lyrical hip-hop, and hip-hop,” she said, and demonstrated the differences between them. She counted the beats like a professional as she showed how the moves were exaggerated and drawn out in lyrical hip-hop, and, in contrast, how the movements in hip-hop were faster and sharper. Lyrical hip-hop, as implied by its name, also includes more lyrics than traditional hip-hop. Verma’s friends often couldn’t tell when Verma was dancing for fun and when she was practicing for class.
One of the main reasons why Verma decided to study abroad was because many Indian colleges focus heavily on STEM courses. Verma, though majoring in biology and on the pre-med track, knew she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to study dance as she did now if she’d chosen to attend college in India. “Sometimes I feel I am being selfish,” she said, about studying dance, though she was happy she decided to pursue it. Verma knew that a dance program was a major requirement for her when applying to and choosing between colleges: though she was accepted to one of the most prestigious government medical schools in India, she decided to attend Sweet Briar instead specifically because of the dance program.
Her decision to study abroad didn’t come without hard work and sacrifice. Grades nine and eleven in India are considered lax years, because those scores don’t go towards a student’s “All India” score, which is a national academic ranking system. Verma, however, had to work hard through all four years, to meet American college standards. She also had to take the SAT, which she said was on the same day as one of her board examinations, which are benchmark exams taken by Indian high school students. As a backup, she also had to prepare for the National Eligibility cum Entrance Test (NEET), which was a test required by Indian medical schools.
All of this Verma did as the youngest member of her class.She graduated high school at the age of sixteen: she skipped a grade at a young age, and studied twice as hard to keep pace with the rest of the class. “Sometimes I got teased because of my age,” she said, and mentioned that she occasionally experienced that at Sweet Briar as well. Despite this, Verma added, “I wish I’d gone into college at fifteen. I could be a sophomore by now!”
In her two months here, Verma has noted many differences between the Indian and American education system. One she discovered when she applied for the position of class secretary: in India, student government positions are determined by the teachers, not through a vote by the student body. Verma was startled to learn this, and said, “It’s so different from America! You guys publicize your stuff, like, ‘vote for this,’ and ‘vote for me!’ In India, it only depends—and this is probably the case for all Indian private high schools—on your academic career, extracurriculars, and your reputation in front of your teachers.” Despite the culture shock, Verma took it all in stride, and began to campaign in the American style: she talked to everyone who would listen about what she would do as class secretary. Her efforts paid off, and she was elected to the position in late August.
Having gone to a private high school in India, Verma’s experiences were much different than her American friends. Some differences were little: for example an “assembly” in America was a big meeting of the school to see a special presentation, happening only about once a month or so. In India, there was an assembly every morning that lasted half an hour, and was mandatory to attend. Verma’s favorite part was what she called the “general knowledge test,” which was a trivia challenge. Before she became a prefect, Verma loved to be one of the few people who answered questions, and after she became a prefect, she loved to be one of the few people who asked them. Other differences between the two systems, however, were more noticeable. The general atmosphere of the Indian education system—as well as much of Indian life in general—was much more formal than in America. Verma summed it up this way: “They’re opposites. It’s like north pole and south pole: they do everything opposite! You guys are more concentrated in developing yourself all-around, but most of the Indian education systems only concentrate on—they want you to have success academically. There are so many teachers, even, who ask you to not take part in competitions and stuff because it might affect your academics.”
When asked to comment on how dance was taught in India, Verma said that, at the colleges she was looking at, “It was not an option available at colleges along with being on the pre-medicine track and studying biology. There was, like, nothing. Dance was not even offered as a minor.”
Though practice for “Heathers” wasn’t the end of Verma’s day, as she still had lots of homework to complete afterwards, it was her last activity. Late one recent night, she and her friend, another first year student at Sweet Briar named Kristina Horchover, discussed how to style her hair. It was too thick and silky to tease in the usual way; she’d tried it at practice earlier that evening and returned with a rats nest. Her busy schedule, complicated by conflicts with Horchover’s, left them only half an hour to do her hair and makeup. They could do it within the time constraint, but the catch was that the half hour block was well before she had to go to rehearsal. The next day, Verma sat patiently in her desk chair as Horchover flat-ironed and unraveled about a dozen small braids, which turned her normally smooth black locks into a puffy, crimped cloud straight out of the 80s. She had just enough time to admire Horchover’s handiwork in the mirror before needing to attend her yoga class in bright red lipstick and full stage makeup.
This is one thing about her life that has remained the same in both India and America: her busy schedule. School in India is six days a week, and during grades ten and twelve, goes year-round. But, she said, “Since I was part of quizzes and extra classes and stuff like that, a Sunday was technically not a holiday for me.” When asked what extracurriculars she participated in during high school, Verma replied with a laugh, “I did almost every single thing. Honestly!” Some of the activities she mentioned, like cricket and badminton, weren’t popular in America, and others had counterparts that were similar but not quite the same. She spoke about organizing all the dance routines for performances during special events, mentioning that she “was the choreographer, the song chooser, every single thing!” However, those “special events” weren’t what an American might think of as a special event—instead of the performances being for pep rallies or shows, they were for holidays such as Teacher’s Day.
Verma said she had to “give credits to my family,” for her busy lifestyle, particularly when it came to her crazy sleeping schedule. She described to me days where she would study all night, sleeping only in short bursts, then go be active at school all day. Her mother and father, both professors, do the same (though her brother, she said, “is quite a lazy chap!”) She grew up in awe of their tenacity and commitment to work. Her mother, who taught English full time as well as ran their household without the help of a maid, Verma especially admired.
“She manages well, honestly,” she said. “She does a really good job managing the house and her personal life. She works really hard. That’s how I learned to work, because she is my idol.”
Occasionally, Verma succumbed to exhaustion: after sleeping for more than five or six hours (a normal night’s sleep in America!) she said, “Sometimes I am super lazy here!” This “laziness” was most common after a rough night at practice: most recently during tech week, when rehearsal for “Heathers” was extended by two hours. The weekend before opening night, Verma spent all Saturday at Babcock working on the choreography, with only small breaks for meals. She did her homework late at night and slept in the next day, exhausted. Concerned friends could do little more than make sure she ate at least twice a day: tentative suggestions that she should drop an activity here or there were met with adamant refusal. Verma knew her limits, and knew that pushing them would be worth it.
Her perseverance led to this: dressed in a fluffy cream skirt and an off-the-shoulder top that revealed neon pink straps, Verma stood onstage with a dozen other student actors and took a bow. The dress rehearsal for “Heathers” the night before opening night was a success, and the handful of people privy to the show clapped wildly. Verma was out of breath but glowing. About the whole experience, specifically her plans for the next show, she said, “I’ve been gaining confidence. I think I’ll go for a bigger role next time!”