David Sathuluri, Climate Justice Advocate, New York
Most of my childhood was spent in a small village between Guntur and Chilakaluripet, Andhra Pradesh. From sixth to tenth grade, I lived in a hostel while studying at AMG High School in Chilakaluripet. Those early years were incredibly tough—I missed my parents terribly, cried often, and felt isolated. Without access to a phone, I couldn’t even hear their voices on the hardest days. On weekends, I would dream of running away, but I didn’t know where to go. It was the presence of my sister, and later, the kindness of a few teachers and friends, that helped me survive that period. Over time, I built friendships that still endure today.
After high school, I moved 500 kilometers away for higher secondary education on a scholarship. Those two years changed me—teaching me the value of companionship, trust, and community. But it was when I moved to Delhi for college that I truly discovered the depth of what community means. It wasn’t just about shared spaces or languages—it was about shared care. In Delhi, I met people who taught me that community is what stands by you when the world gets heavy.
I grew up Christian, but most of my closest friends have been Hindu or Muslim. Back in school, I remember a Muslim teacher who taught me Hindi. She was tough on me, especially when I underperformed—but her care was undeniable. She would give me chocolates and explain why Hindi mattered, especially if I planned to leave my home state for higher studies. Her encouragement helped me manage conversations when I got to Delhi. Her affection has always stayed with me.
One Hindu friend, in particular, became a brother to me. When I first arrived in Delhi—lost, unsure, and struggling with Hindi and English—he guided me. We even started a college club together, one that got us recognized by our principal. Later, he played a pivotal role in helping me choose a path forward in life, a path that eventually led me to the United States. Without him, I wouldn’t be here today.
To those who feel divided by religion today, I would say this: our differences are part of what make India beautiful. But they should never be walls. If we open ourselves up, we’ll compassion. I’ve been shaped, helped, and healed by people across faiths. If I had stayed within those artificially drawn walls, I would have missed out on so much.
I dream of an India where Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, and all communities coexist without the walls of hate and bigotry. Where anyone can walk freely into places of worship, be it a mosque, temple, or church, without fear or hesitation. Where communal violence is a forgotten phrase, and where we see each other as human first. An India where children grow up learning that love, kindness, and our shared humanity come before all else. That’s the India I believe in.