My List of “Ands”

The word “and” best characterizes my life. I have Indian-American cultural roots and I am a spirited New Yorker. I am a neuroscience enthusiast and a fervent journalist. A news junkie and an Adirondacks backpacker. A bold leader and a thoughtful team player. I am this and that, never one or the other.

Upon entering college this past fall, I was exposed to the “ands” that others cared passionately about — “ands” I never could have even imagined. My residential proctor enlightened me about her previous job as a traveling church singer and published writer during an advising meeting. My roommate and I ate mouthwatering waffles at Zinneken’s while she vividly described her athletic journey as a track and field hurdler in Canada and as an international sprint competitor in Kenya. My fellow health policy team member bewildered me with his keen infatuation for tomato soup and his simultaneous deep distaste for ketchup as we enjoyed a meal in Annenberg.

These newfound “ands” kept encouraging me to pause and reflect. For years, I had been satisfied and grown comfortable with which traits I attributed to myself. After stepping foot in Cambridge, however, I found myself yearning for new perspectives to inspire me to accumulate more “ands.”

In September, I auditioned for the Harvard Bhangra team on a whim, looking for a way to stay active while exploring a new technique of Indian dance. After two hours of navigating the various arm, leg, and facial movements, I truly attained an appreciation for the dance and its intricacies. Since then, sharing smiles and joy with my team members at our twice-a-week practices has been a hallmark of my Harvard experience. Through Bhangra, I discovered the value of genuine love within a group of individuals and how a tight-knit community enables more fulfilling successes all around. I began recognizing that the experiences I was tacking on to my “ands” facilitated a greater sense of both self and collective purpose.

Soon, however, I came to the difficult realization that not all “ands” originate from heartwarming circumstances.

My life took a drastic turn in November. I found out that my grandfather in India had lost complete respiratory function in his right lung and only had 60 percent function remaining in his left lung. The warm grin I had long seen on FaceTimes rapidly faded away as my grandfather spiraled into unconsciousness, unable to recognize his own grandchildren. Within mere weeks, he passed away.

Helplessness overwhelmed me.

Separated by 3,000 miles from my parents who had traveled to India on emergency grounds, I was left to secure individual strength alone while my academic and extracurricular commitments forged onward. Resiliency entered my toolkit of “ands.” During those arduous weeks, I spent meaningful time with friends, provided virtual support to my younger brother, and recognized that it was okay to ask for help.

I had always assumed that Harvard students were warriors who never struggled. Warriors who came to college from the ranks of valedictorians, world-class musicians, and Olympics-bound athletes with an indisputable upward trajectory.

From both personal and outside experience, I have come to find that this absolutely is not the case — and that is exactly how it should be.

Vulnerability is an essential component of growth. By allowing ourselves as Harvard students to take a pause and reflect on our losses, we procure the agency to better alleviate the struggles of others during their times of difficulty.

The painful weeks after losing my grandfather imparted to me the strength to be courageous both in times of internal battles and to never cease lending a helping hand to others. During the last two weeks of the fall semester, the “freshman plague,” more commonly known as the flu, invaded campus. My friends began succumbing in a domino-like fashion. In response, I headed to CVS and assembled packages with self-care products, chocolate, and cards that I filled with positive affirmations for a quick recovery. After some of my classmates began isolating themselves in their dorms to avoid spreading their illnesses, I emulated a part-time food delivery service, picking up meals at Annenberg and dropping them off at the doors of their dorms as they recovered in isolation.

These moments of help were simple, yet quite meaningful to me. The “and” of embodying an individual of confidence, loyalty, and unwavering support became the “and” I am the proudest of.

During my first semester living and breathing in the ever-evolving, vibrant, and diverse Harvard community, I am grateful to have tacked on so many more “ands” to my list. I am now a lover of Belgian waffles and a dining hall conversationalist. I am a confident Bhangra team dancer and a care package maker. Above all, I am a woman of resilience and I am an individual who people can always firmly trust and depend on.

I have come to believe that to be a person of “ands” involves galvanizing the communities and individuals around you to embrace challenges with an open heart and sincere love. Let us cherish the “ands” in the people around us, and let us strive to never be content with only the “ands” we carry now.

Alvira Tyagi ’25, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Pennypacker Hall. Her column “Reckonings & Revelations” appears on alternate Mondays.

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