This year felt like a long walk through three rooms, sometimes all in the same day. The first room was the lab bench, with a calendar that looks calm only from a distance. The second was the writing desk, where one honest paragraph could take longer than an experiment. The third was quieter, the room where stories, languages, and memories sit, and where I try to understand who I am becoming. If I had to name 2025 in one line, it would be this: I learned to find progress in the little steps, too.

January began with a giant leap that still feels unreal to type. I was going to join UT Southwestern Medical Center as a postdoctoral researcher. This was going to be a major change for a village boy who never imagined his way to one of the top medical centers in the world. New people, new pace, new expectations, and a new kind of silence that comes when you are about to step into the unknown.

How was I feeling? Not afraid. Nervous, yes. Excited, yes. Also, deeply aware of how much strength comes from being loved well.

In the first week of January, home became a warm, crowded cocoon. The extended family came to see me off. The kind of care that arrives in food, blessings, and small instructions disguised as concern. I was fed like a person being sent on a long journey, because in a way I was. Uncertainty makes everyone overthink. I was thinking, my family was overthinking, and somehow love was doing what it always does, making the hard thing feel possible. Mama, Mausi, Bua, Fufa, Uncles, Cousins… the love I received was enough to offset the uncertainty of the foreign land.

The last couple of days in Delhi were a blur in the best way. Between errands, last-minute packing, and farewells squeezed into small pockets of time, I kept realizing how quietly rich a life becomes when it is held by people across seasons. Friends from school, college, and university, along with colleagues, staff, and lab members, showed up to see me off. Their presence added a special vigor to the goodbye, the kind you carry for a long time without needing to talk about it.

On the way to the airport, I felt the emotional ache of leaving my motherland. Janani janmabhumishcha swargadapi gariyasi. A fun fact I learned later: the brain loves predictability so much that even a good change can feel heavy at first. That thought made me gentler with myself, and oddly, more grateful to everyone who helped make the unknown feel less lonely.

“ऐ वतन वतन मेरे आबाद रहे तू
मैं जहाँ रहूँ जहाँ में याद रहे तू” 🇮🇳 pic.twitter.com/CqD3oW8na4

— Tryambak Srivastava, PhD (@imtryam) January 9, 2025

On entering the US, I was lucky to be introduced to friends who became family. That is one of the most underrated forms of fortune: people who make a new place feel less new.

I was here for my postdoc, and the work was an extension of my PhD curiosity, exploring nuclear receptors such as the androgen receptor and glucocorticoid receptor in triple-negative breast cancer. Science felt familiar, but the work culture felt different. Honest, fast-paced, and effortlessly smart. It took me some time to adapt, not because I could not work hard, but because I had to learn a new rhythm of clarity, speed, and independence.

This was also a major shock for someone who lived across the hostel for almost twenty years. Hostel life teaches you community by default. You share corridors, chai, and even clothes for emergencies 😉😉. Suddenly, the corridor is gone. You have to build community intentionally. I wrote about hostel life because it still feels like a part of my emotional education, not only my academic one.

In parallel, I kept returning to something I care about deeply: making science legible. Not simplified, not diluted, just explained with respect. One example was the blog I wrote on gene expression calculation using the Vandesompele method. Happy to share the free template with anyone using it. Fun fact, for the non-lab readers: in qRT-PCR, one strong reference gene is not always reliable. The Vandesompele approach uses multiple reference genes and takes a geometric mean, which is a fancy way of saying: do not trust a single anchor when you can build a stable bridge.

And yes, the food. I was most worried about food in a foreign land, and life surprised me. I ate remarkably well this year. My gallery is full of plates that deserve their own dedicated storage, but I will resist spamming the feed with these delicacies. I will share a few photos, just enough to show that my original fear has been replaced by gratitude and mild disbelief.

Meanwhile, I explored the local beauty of Dallas. There is something healing about learning a city slowly, finding your grocery store, your walk, your comfort corners. It turns a foreign place into a lived place.

When you live away from home, you miss language, food, culture, and festivals in a way that surprises you. The longing comes in waves, often on days you did not expect. One such wave came during Holi. And then came the twist: Holi in Dallas was, in our honest opinion, better than Holi in Delhi. Not because it was bigger, but because it was held together by people who were trying hard to recreate home for each other. That effort makes everything brighter.

This year also had moments that felt like meeting the heroes on my wall. We were excited to meet Prof. Yamanaka and Feng Zhang when they delivered talks at UTSW. I felt the simple joy of thanking people whose work shaped modern science in ways most of us now take for granted.

What a day at @UTSWMedCenter! Had an incredible experience of attending talks by two giants in modern genomic engineering and regenerative medicine, @zhangf and Shinya Yamanaka. Both are among the heroes on my wall. 🧬🌟 pic.twitter.com/L6nIgtNOuf

— Tryambak Srivastava, PhD (@imtryam) April 10, 2025

Lab work continued, and so did the craving for homemade food. The Bihari in me missed litti chokha in a very specific way, the earthy comfort of it, the kind that instantly makes you feel grounded. The plot twist was Dallas. It serves litti chokha and handi meat so good that it could compete with many Patna shops, and I say that with full seriousness and a little surprise.

On a more “policy” note, I know many people think about sanctions and funding cuts in science. I know it too. In fact, our cabinet met, deliberated, and reached a resolution. The only catch is that this cabinet was a group of hungry scientists. Evidence is provided in the photo.

And yes, we recreated that iconic photograph of PM Modi ji in front of the White House.

Recreating an iconic moment of @narendramodi ji at the @WhiteHouse. Homage to an archival frame that captured the early aspirations of India’s leadership. 🇮🇳 🇺🇸 pic.twitter.com/WmIMitvXKG

— Tryambak Srivastava, PhD (@imtryam) May 29, 2025

A personal note, I want to say without making it dramatic: friendship has been my quiet superpower this year. Rahul and I started our humble journey from RIE Bhubaneswar. We saw ups and downs together. We never imagined we would witness this chapter together, too. There is a special comfort in being known by someone who has seen your earlier versions and still roots for you.

Experiment-wise, I learned specialized skills, including injecting cancer cells into mice. Wet lab work intensified, and so did our parties. I am slowly learning that celebration is not a distraction from work. It is often what keeps work sustainable.

By October, we missed festive events back home, so Dallas offered its own version of India. We celebrated, danced to garba tunes, and did pooja path with the kind of sincerity that only distance can intensify.

After counting days, the time finally came to visit Bharat. Returning home is a merger of many moments layered together: shopping lists, flight schedules, meetings, and the childlike thrill of knowing you will hear your matribhasha without searching for it.

Delhi greeted me with warmth. Thank you to Deep, Riya, Swati, and Deepak for hosting me so well. My palate needed desi food, and I started munching right from the start. It was also an honor to be hosted by Subhradip Sir and Ruby Ma’am, who handed over my PhD degree. Thanks to them, this long journey came to fruition.

Even after reaching Bharat, home was still a few flights away. I had to visit Chennai for paperwork, and I was hosted by Megha and Chander. It was gladdening to meet little Taksh and see how talented he is. Children have a way of making you hopeful without trying.

Finally, home 🏡. Meeting family after months felt like refilling a battery I did not know was running low ❤️‍🩹. What could have been a better coincidence than my homecoming aligning with Dadi’s birthday? We celebrated with family and friends, and it reminded me that joy does not need grand arrangements. It needs people.

“Mad Moh tyagane aaya hoon, Pad-dhuli maangane aaya hoon.” Dinkar Ji

The next days moved gently, meeting friends, attending pooja, and mela. Chhath pooja, for us, is beyond a festival; it is a devotion made visible. Celebrating it with family felt special this time as the whole extended family gathered to cherish it together.

I am blessed to receive an abundance of love and affection from family and friends.

All good things come to an end. So did my hair. Months of careful pampering disappeared in one salon session.

Returning to Dallas, my belly had a hard time adjusting again. Homesickness is real, and sometimes it shows up in your stomach before it shows up in your words. One unexpected outcome: I now love South Indian food even more. Life is funny like that.

After returning to Dallas, the parties continued, but with added rigor. Work had to regain its structure, and I had to regain my rhythm. Coming back after a home trip always feels like restarting a machine that runs beautifully only when you are patient with it. I cherish the company of two people who make my personal and professional life pleasant.

This year also brought a moment of pure pride in the family. My sister defended her PhD and had her convocation. Watching her complete that challenge despite personal and professional hurdles was deeply moving. It reminded me that strength is often quiet, and persistence is often invisible until the finish line. Congratulations!

Professionally, I published two first-author papers, and a couple of projects moved forward as communications. I learned new in vivo techniques, forged collaborations, and continued growing into the kind of scientist I want to become.

I am trying to say this without sounding like a victory speech, because the truth is simpler. I am grateful. I worked hard. I was helped a lot. I learned that progress is not always a headline. Sometimes it is showing up again, asking a better question, and treating people well while you do it.

If 2025 taught me one philosophy that I want to carry forward, it is this: you do not need your life to be perfectly balanced to be meaningful. Some seasons are heavy on work, some are heavy on family, some are heavy on longing, and all of them still count as life.

I began the year leaving home with a lump in my throat and blessings in my bag. I end the year with a wider world, steadier hands, deeper friendships, and an even stronger appreciation for where I come from. In 2026, I aim to continue doing what worked in 2025: staying curious, staying grounded, writing more, laughing often, and remaining grateful to the people who make unfamiliar places feel like home.

© Tryambak Srivastava
January 04, 2025
Dallas, TX, USA