This project centers on my childhood memories of visiting my grandparents. I loved fruits, and that love truly blossomed during trips to their farm. There, I could climb trees and pluck whatever fruit caught my fancy. Growing up bilingual meant that languages often clashed in my little head—I would think in one language and respond in another. As children, we learn the basics like the alphabet, numbers, and the names of fruits and vegetables. I assumed these names were universal, but that assumption would eventually lead to a surprising revelation.

One sunny day, during one of my school breaks, we visited my mother’s hometown. We received a call from my grandmother, who excitedly told us about a lovely batch of papayas ripening on the farm. Now, the catch here was that my grandmother didn’t speak a word of English. In our native language, Hindi, ‘papaya’ translates to papita. (I loved all kinds of fruits, but something about the texture of papaya never quite sat right with me.

When we arrived at my grandmother’s place, she proudly presented a plate filled with papayas. I was baffled. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I had been promised a new fruit, and here I was, served papaya! My five-year-old self felt utterly betrayed and threw a dramatic fit that lasted for days. I insisted I had been scammed by the adults in the family—that I wasn’t getting what had been promised. I sulked, pouted, and acted like the spoiled child I was.

This memory is incredibly dear to me because, as a child, it felt like an earth-shattering event. Back then, navigating life was a bit tricky because I couldn’t seamlessly switch between languages like I can now. It’s a bittersweet reminder of my younger self and the charming little struggles of my childhood.