The world was ending. Its demise was as glaring as the sun in the sky. It was an impending apocalypse, and we sought refuge in hiding. All my friends were casualties of time’s endless march. Everything I knew became useless, slipping away like grains of sand through young hands. Everything I tried to get it to stop was futile. My desperate attempts went in vain. That was it. It was the end. At least, that’s what it felt like for ten-year-old me when I was, for the thousandth time, ripped away from my life and thrust into yet another foreign land - this time, a country where I was once bestowed the gift of life, but only recall fleeting moments of, like whispers lost in the wind. Some people say that moving across the globe over and over again isn't that big of a deal. But, when you add that up with a family who barely earns enough to survive, overprotective parents, an awkward prepubescent girl, and another new language for her to master - this uneventful occasion becomes a barrier. And the magnitude of such a challenge becomes insurmountable. Especially when the girl's name is something as unique as Haiet (pronounced phonetically as "hate.") For me, each move represented not just a new home but a new battlefield in a quest for stability and success. Yet, it was precisely this relentless upheaval that taught me the value of grit—a quality that has become my cornerstone in overcoming obstacles and striving toward my goals. I remember, when I first moved, being bullied for my name, my way of speaking, my preferred language, and my 'oily' hair. I remember crying in my mother's arms, complaining of being treated differently for just being myself. I remember writing a poem about how "there should be no room at school for hate," thinking that would help, as well. You can imagine how that went. (hint hint - not well.) The poem didn't change anything at school. The teasing and the whispers continued, as relentless as the wind sweeping through the endless dunes of a desert. I felt small and isolated, as though each new place was another arena where I was forced to fight for acceptance, only to find myself struggling with new enemies in the form of sneers and judgments. But slowly, something within me began to shift. I realized that if I had to keep adapting to these new worlds, I had to start seeing them not as battlegrounds but as opportunities. Each move, each new school, each fresh start became a canvas where I could paint my own story. It was during one of these transitions that I discovered my love for storytelling. For me, it was a means to connect with others on my terms. I started writing stories and poems that reflected not just my struggles but also my hopes and dreams; an act of defiance against the harshness of my circumstances, a way to reclaim my voice from the shadows of ridicule. They represented not just the challenges I faced but also the strength I had built from my hardships. Now, as I look back on those endless moves and the battles I fought, I see them not as a series of unfortunate events but as the events that taught me 'grit.' In hindsight, the world wasn't ending. It was opening up, revealing new possibilities with each turn. Through it all, I learned that the true measure of strength isn't in never falling but in rising every time you do.

I saw someone perform a miracle once, firsthand. In a small, rural clinic in Pune, Maharashtra, I witnessed impossible circumstances surrounded by immense hope. A doctor, around the age of my mother, helped heal a little boy, just my age, who seemed helpless. With nothing more than her impeccable skill and precise techniques, she saved him from active tuberculosis. From behind that glass window, my jaw went slack, as I saw the boy’s parents cry in happiness. My heart felt full when I saw the little boy smile again, hope in his eyes. Hope that he would actually live to see another day. That was the first time I thought, "I want to be a doctor." I was only 8 then, in the hospital for my grandmother’s checkup, and allowed to be in the presence of that patient thanks to my aunt, who was a doctor, noticing my keen interest in the art of medicine. Ever since then, becoming a doctor has been my life's goal. I sometimes think it’s because I’m selfish. I want to see someone thank me the way I’ve seen patients and their family members thank numerous doctors. I want to see that happiness on their faces as they witness their progress. I want to feel the same profound satisfaction I experienced every single day while helping children at Nemours Pediatric Hospital during my internship. Each smile and every moment of relief reaffirm my dedication and the deep-seated desire to continue making a tangible difference in people’s lives. And that is my second reason. I want to be that person who helps. Ever since I was a child, I was always the student who hung back at lunch to help the teacher clean up or to get a Band-Aid for someone who fell at the playground. As I've grown older, that ever-present want to lend a helping hand has only strengthened. Whether it was volunteering at community health fairs, helping out in local outreach programs, or just being present whenever friends and family needed me, the theme of helping others has remained a constant in my life. In fact, those few hours of volunteering that other high school students viewed as burdens to be completed actually inspired me to work harder than ever. This inborn urge to help and lift others up has only been reinforced in my mind as a reason to pursue medicine. It is not just about the application of scientific knowledge or the performing of procedures, but about being that compassionate presence: a reliable source of support, a beacon of hope in stormy weather. The blend of medical expertise and heartfelt empathy in this profession makes it worth the effort. Hippocrates once said, "Wherever the art of Medicine is loved, there is also a love of Humanity." This message captures why I am so passionate about pursuing a career in medicine. It isn't just about the science or the skill; it is about the deep connection we make with the ones we care for. It's about the common bond of humanity, along with the magical power of healing. This love for the art and heart of medicine becomes my fuel, guiding me to be a doctor.

I saw someone perform a miracle once, firsthand. In a small, rural clinic in Pune, Maharashtra, I witnessed impossible circumstances surrounded by immense hope. A doctor, around the age of my mother, helped heal a little boy, just my age, who seemed helpless. With nothing more than her impeccable skill and precise techniques, she saved him from active tuberculosis. From behind that glass window, my jaw went slack as I saw the boy’s parents cry in happiness. My heart felt full when I saw the little boy smile again, hope in his eyes. Hope that he would actually live to see another day. That was the first time I thought, "I want to be a doctor." I was only 8 then, in the hospital for my grandmother’s checkup, and allowed to be in the presence of that patient thanks to my aunt, who was a doctor, noticing my keen interest in the art of medicine. Since then, becoming a doctor has been my life's goal. I sometimes think it’s because I’m selfish. I want to see someone thank me the way I’ve seen patients and their family members thank numerous doctors. I want to see that happiness on their faces as they witness their progress. I want to feel the same profound satisfaction I experienced every single day while helping children at Nemours Pediatric Hospital during my internship. Each smile and every moment of relief reaffirm my dedication and the deep-seated desire to continue making a tangible difference in people’s lives. And that is my second reason. I want to be that person who helps. Ever since I was a child, I was always the student who hung back at lunch to help the teacher clean up or to get a Band-Aid for someone who fell at the playground. As I've grown older, that ever-present want to lend a helping hand has only strengthened. Whether it was volunteering at community health fairs, helping out in local outreach programs, or just being present whenever friends and family needed me, the theme of helping others has remained a constant in my life. In fact, those few hours of volunteering that other high school students viewed as burdens to be completed actually inspired me to work harder than ever. This inborn urge to help and lift others up has only been reinforced in my mind as a reason to pursue medicine. It is not just about the application of scientific knowledge or the performing of procedures, but about being that compassionate presence: a reliable source of support, a beacon of hope in stormy weather. The blend of medical expertise and heartfelt empathy in this profession makes it worth the effort. Hippocrates once said, "Wherever the art of Medicine is loved, there is also a love of Humanity." This message captures why I am so passionate about pursuing a career in medicine. It isn't just about the science or the skill; it is about the deep connection we make with the ones we care for. It's about the common bond of humanity, along with the magical power of healing. This love for the art and heart of medicine becomes my fuel, guiding me to be a doctor.

The world was ending. Its demise was as glaring as the sun in the sky. It was an impending apocalypse, and we sought refuge in hiding. All my friends were casualties of time’s endless march. Everything I knew became useless, slipping away like grains of sand through young hands. Everything I tried to get it to stop was futile. My desperate attempts went in vain. That was it. It was the end. At least, that’s what it felt like for ten-year-old me when I was ripped away from my life and thrust into a foreign land - a country where I was once bestowed the gift of life, but only recall fleeting moments of, like whispers lost in the wind. That was the time when I moved to India for the first time. It was when I learned that life wasn't as easy as I once thought. India was a new experience for me. There were new people, new ideas, and new expectations of what I was meant to do. School, which had once been my playground of exploration, transformed into a battleground of rote memorization. My teachers had no interest in my grand ideas of leadership; they seemed more interested in teaching me to remember dates and formulas. Socially, things were no less daunting. My accent, spelling, and even my way of speaking were ridiculed. I felt like an intergalactic traveler lost in translation. It was in the midst of all that chaos that I encountered debate for the first time. At first, it was merely an after-school activity—a new hobby to take my mind off the overwhelming differences. But before I knew it, debate became my anchor. The art of argumentation provided a way to navigate the choppy waters of cultural and intellectual differences. It was through debate that I learned not only to express my thoughts but also to polish them: to see many sides of a problem and to state my beliefs with clarity. But, before I knew it, we returned to California for a few short months. My father's job loss made this return more of a detour before we were abruptly hurtled back into the chaos of India once more, this time amid the gnawing challenge of COVID-19. The pandemic had burst into a world that already felt unstable, like extras in some reality show that had gone wrong. Yet, amidst the chaos of it all, the debate remained the routine-my thread of continuity, in a time when everything else felt like it was on the negotiating table. When we eventually relocated to Florida, I faced yet another transition. Amid the new surroundings and fresh challenges, my commitment to debate became a beacon of stability. In Florida, I found my footing again, and my dedication to debate culminated in competing at nationals and placing top 30. At this pivotal moment, I understood the true value of debate. It was not just an activity or a distraction; it was my path to happiness and fulfillment, regardless of where I was. Debate had been my companion through every upheaval, helping me bridge the gaps between disparate worlds and discover my place within them. The skills I developed in debate became more than just a way to cope—they were a lifeline. They allowed me to bridge the gap between my past and present, to merge the fragments of my former self with the person I was becoming. Debate mirrored the larger struggle of adapting to a new culture, helping me to reconcile my identity with the new world around me.

In my medical journey as an Indian individual, I'm driven by a fervent passion to revolutionize healthcare. Having witnessed the harsh realities of healthcare disparities faced by marginalized communities like my own, I've vowed to be the change we desperately need. The numbers don't lie: African Americans, constituting 13% of the population, only represent 5% of practicing physicians. Indians, who represent 6% of the population, only represent 3% of practicing physicians. In contrast, Caucasians, who make up 60% of the population, represent over 80% of practicing physicians. This comparison is unacceptable. We cannot afford to overlook the imperative of racial diversity in healthcare. When healthcare providers mirror the diversity of their patients, magic happens. Patients feel heard, understood, and respected when their caregivers share their cultural backgrounds. Trust soars, communication flourishes, and ultimately, lives are saved. And that is why I want to become a doctor, to make a change and to save lives, because, without life, all this is for naught. Implicit biases within the system persist, perpetuating inequalities in care. Racial and ethnic minorities are often on the receiving end of subpar treatment due to these biases. It's a harsh reality we must confront head-on. Let's talk access. Racial minorities are disproportionately uninsured or underinsured, amplifying the chasm of healthcare disparities. Everyone deserves quality healthcare, regardless of their socioeconomic status or ethnic background. Unfortunately, with doctors being allowed to choose their patients at times, when there is racial injustice in the field, this proportion soars. We must fix this, and I believe that this scholarship can let me give it a go. And let's not ignore the elephant in the room—physician pay disparities. Black physicians, despite their equivalent training and experience, earn a staggering 16% less than their white counterparts. This isn't just a statistic; it's an injustice that demands rectification. As an Indian, I'm acutely aware of the power of representation. Seeing healthcare professionals who resemble us isn't just empowering; it's transformative. It's a reminder that diversity isn't just a buzzword—it's a catalyst for change. To make a change, we must take the first step, and I believe that I, as an immigrant, Indian female, can help break many binds of discrimination by going into medicine. We cannot afford to be complacent. It's time to dismantle the barriers, challenge the status quo, and pave the way for a healthcare system that's equitable, inclusive, and just. The time for action is now and I want to be one of the many who'd like to change it.

As 2023 comes to a close, there are several songs from Taylor Swift's 1989 (Taylor's Version) that embody the energy and emotions of the past year. Whether it be navigating through unexpected life changes, reflecting on past relationships, or embracing a newfound sense of confidence, these songs are perfect for encapsulating the themes of the past year. Let's break down the lyrics and explore why the tunes from Taylor's version of 1989 are fitting for the last 12 months. "Blank Space" is a lyrical masterclass in how our perceptions of life can be distorted by our insecurities and assumptions. The song tackles the irony of how our feelings can prevent us from fully accepting the reality of a situation. The lyrics show an emotionally vulnerable and self-aware side of Taylor Swift's songwriting, with lines like "I've got a list of ex-lovers" and "It's like I got my blank space back." "Style" is all about taking charge of your life and feeling confident in yourself. The lyrics show a fearless and independent attitude, with lines like "I'm so wild and free" and "We've got style for miles." This song gives a sense of empowerment and encourages you to embrace your style and own it. "New Romantics" summarizes the emotions I have felt this year, from happiness and excitement to sadness and anger. The song reflects my journey and growth as a person. "And every day is like a battle, but every night with us is like a dream" represents how you can be positive about anything that may happen in your life as long as you view the problems with optimism. Stop focusing on the insults, but rather on how the insults can help you build character. Finally, "Wildest Dreams" encapsulates the ups and downs of relationships, whether it's with your family or with your significant other. The lyrics describe the highs and lows and the complexities of loving someone and being with someone. Its message is that relationships are messy and full of surprises. The song portrays the beauty of being in love despite the uncertainty. Its message reminds me that relationships can be challenging but also fulfilling and worth it in the end. This album represents me and my year, in terms of its lyrics and rhythms, as each song resonates with a feeling or experience that I have had. I've found comfort and strength in the album, through the countless nights I spent listening to the songs on repeat. This album helped me feel just a little bit better and made me feel less alone than I did before.

The world was ending. Its demise was as glaring as the sun in the sky. It was an impending apocalypse, and we sought refuge in hiding. All my friends were casualties of time’s endless march. Everything I knew became useless, slipping away like grains of sand through young hands. Everything I tried to get it to stop was futile. My desperate attempts went in vain. That was it. It was the end. At least, that’s what it felt like for ten-year-old me when I was ripped away from my life and thrust into a foreign land - a country where I was bestowed the gift of life but only recall fleeting moments of like whispers lost in the wind. “All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players.” I had heard this phrase time and time again, never truly understanding the implications of it. But at that moment, the meaning finally lost its obscuring haze. I was not in control of destiny. I was not in charge, not the way I always thought I was. I was nothing more than a pawn in destiny’s game of chess - a mere page in the grand novel of life. I scoffed as I sat in the plane, watching the land disappear, moving towards the sea. It was as if I watched my past disappear as I moved toward the future. I remembered the pitiful glances my old friends gave me as they bid me farewell, sorrowful at my departure. I remembered the comforting hugs my cherished teachers gave me as I bade them a sorrowful goodbye. I stared out the window, remembering my past few visits to India and my vacations there. They were happy, as far as I remember. But, they were short. They usually lasted a week or two, rarely longer. I never imagined that I would have to live there, among the countless fights that were provoked by "loved ones," among the reminders of the lost, and among people who I barely knew, people who had the idea that it was okay for them to make decisions for me. It was terrifying. I felt like puking, and it wasn’t just because the person sitting on my left lacked basic hygiene. I just closed my eyes, hoping and praying this was a dream. But it wasn’t, because the second I opened my eyes again, we had landed in the country I once called home. Now, I know this seems like a meaningless tale. But it isn't. Because India was where I learned how to be me, give back to the community, and employ the best of my capabilities for the best of others. Through hard work and perseverance, I was finally accepted in India, not just as some foreign stranger who claimed to belong. That fight to make friends is one that I will never forget because it taught me how to adapt to new situations and be myself throughout. Through that fight, I found ways to help those who need it, making friends throughout. I started volunteering at TribesForGood, using my talents in speaking proficient English to teach kids in government schools who needed to learn it. It was an experience that taught me that what I went through was nothing - that people go through much worse. It taught me that life is what you make of it, not what you are bestowed. Now, although I am back in the USA, I still volunteer as much as I can (over 500 hours), and I will never stop because making a difference is worth it.

I remember sitting at my kitchen table when I was 8, listening to my father berating me for making yet another silly mistake. I hated it. I felt like my dad didn't ever do anything but yell at me for imperfect scores. My dad just said perfection isn't even perfect unless you beat everyone you know. I also remember when I was 12, my dad sat me down after he got my report card, ready to yell at me for not getting a 100 on my last English test. I remember wanting to yell back and argue with him for hating on me just because I got a 99. I was better than many others, but my dad always said, never to compare yourself to people worse than you and made me quiet. Then, I remember after I took my first SAT, my dad told me that I always make silly mistakes because I got a 1420. I remember arguing back, saying that I was in the 99th percentile. He simply said that doesn't matter - you expected above a 1500 and you didn't get it. It's shameful. It's not worth it for your future. I used to hate it. I always felt like yelling at him, fighting with him, just wanting to tell him that I was trying so hard. I'm so sorry I didn't get a perfect score but at least I tried! I couldn't control my anger at points and just wanted to quit everything. I wanted to say that I should quit everything else that keeps me busy if that's what you want. I should just stop. Then tell me how you feel. But, then I grew. I realized that all of those things that my dad said were the things that got me where I am today. I realized that if my dad didn't push me so much, I would not have a 4.0 unweighted GPA. I would not have a perfect score in my FAST tests, in my AP exams, and so many other things. I would not be where I am today. I would not be the student that all my teachers are proud of. I wouldn't be in the National Honor Society. I would just be average. He turned me into who I am today and I cannot be more grateful. My father's pushing, his anger, his disapproval - him not saying that he's proud of me - that's what pushed me to work so hard to make him proud of me. That's what made me reach my goals and dream so big because I knew I was not average and I could achieve things that average people could not achieve. It was all thanks to my father. I know for a fact that without him and his consistent pushing, I would not be where I am today. I love him for that and I will always be eternally grateful for him. For his support, and his pushing - both financially and emotionally - I will never be able to thank him enough.

I was only three years old when I was first introduced to Zendaya. I watched the first episode of her show the first time it aired on television. "Shake It Up" was my entire childhood. I refused to miss any episodes and watched the reruns of all of them numerous times. When eight-year-old me found out that another one of her shows was going to come out, I was exhilarated. I watched "K.C. Undercover" and I was hooked from the very first episode to the very last one in 2018. And as Zendaya grew, so did I. In 2019, she moved to Euphoria, and let's just say, I wasn't allowed to watch it until very recently. And in the break from the television shows starring Zendaya, I watched her Spiderman movies, Dune, and Zapped. They were all my childhood favorites. Once I was done enough, I moved on to Euphoria, of course, and once I started, I just couldn't stop. I loved and hated Rue because Zendaya made me love and hate her. It was amazing. All of Zendaya's works have had me gripped ever since I started watching them. Zendaya helped me grow up and exposed me to every part of the world - both good and bad. From dating advice when she played K.C., to what not to do as a teen when I watched Euphoria, it was all a huge part of my growing up. But what I love most about Zendaya is how she used her popularity for the good of other people. She started by simply representing the voice of blacks and other underrepresented communities. She uses her role in her shows and movies to represent herself and others she feels don't get represented enough, which I believe is something amazing. She has been showing support for the Black Lives Matter movement on her social media accounts for years. She took part in the George Floyd protests in June 2020 and temporarily lent her Instagram account to Patrisse Cullors to share anti-racism resources and media. She also financially contributes to communities and advocates for the underprivileged, which, although a lot of actors try to do, I believe Zendaya does just a little bit better. She participated in multiple campains, such as the Ice Cream for Breakfast, Toys For Tots, Friends for Change, Bookbag Drives, Operation Smile, Convoy of Hope, and Donate My Dress - to name a few. Her charity work is amazing and she gives back to the community in the best ways possible! She's relatable and successful, and she stands up for what she believes in and isn't afraid to speak her mind. Zendaya is known for her hard work and dedication to her craft. She has said that success does not come easily, and that it takes hard work, perseverance, and a willingness to learn from one's mistakes. Her success is a testament to the value of hard work and discipline. And she proves that every single day. And I take that from her. These values she carries: perseverance, confidence, and giving bakc to the community; these are the values that I have learned to carry thanks to Zendaya Coleman. And that is why I admire her.

I was on my phone one day, browsing TikTok as one does, and suddenly I came across this TikTok with over 16 million views, from @aymansbooks. The creator was talking about the book, pretending to be the protagonist of the series, Feyre. "Feyre is a huntress. She thinks nothing of slaughtering a wolf to capture its prey. But, like all mortals, she fears what lingers mercilessly beyond the forest. And she will learn that taking the life of a magical creature comes at a high price..." She was talking about "A Court of Thorns and Roses." The next second, the entire series was on my ideal bookshelf list, and @aymansbooks had a new follower. In the next few days, I saw more and more #BookTok recommendations, from "The Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller to "The Poppy War" by R.F. Kuang. Each book I saw made me want to buy them, and they inspired me to read more. I went to the library more often to just sit there and read all the books that the #BookTok community inspired me to read. I loved them! I read books like "Six of Crows" by Leigh Bardugo, which is known for its diverse cast of characters and intricate world-building. Its popularity on #BookTok may be attributed to the suspenseful plot and the camaraderie among the members of the criminal crew. I read "They Both Die at the End" by Adam Silvera, which is a thought-provoking and emotional story about living life to the fullest, this book could have gained traction on #BookTok for its impactful themes and heartbreaking narrative. And, in a completely different genre, I read "Educated" by Tara Westover, which is a memoir about a woman who escapes a strict and abusive household to pursue education and has likely become a #BookTok favorite for its inspiring and thought-provoking journey. These titles range from romance to drama to comedy, and each of the books makes you feel something different, and all of these titles are must-haves in my humble opinion. These titles have led me, and the #BookTok community to grow in terms of what we as readers read, and have helped us expand our understanding of the world and books in general. These titles represent a diverse range of genres and themes, reflecting the eclectic tastes and interests of the #BookTok community. The impact of these books on #BookTok could include fostering discussions around important social issues, building a sense of community among readers, and influencing reading preferences and trends.

The first time I volunteered was when I was 10. I knew what community service was before that, of course, but I hadn't ever participated in anything related to the community very often. The first opportunity in my volunteering journey was in India, where I taught underprivileged students English, Math, and Science. These kids were in my grade, the same age as I was, if not older. But I was teaching them the basics, which I had thought everyone already knew. It was an eye-opening experience. It taught me empathy. Engaging with individuals facing diverse challenges provided me with a firsthand understanding of the struggles many people endure. I've learned to appreciate each person's unique stories and experiences, and I learned how to foster a sense of connection and shared humanity. Embarking on a journey of volunteer service has been a profound and eye-opening experience for me. It helped me harness things about me that I never knew I could do. Through the countless hours dedicated to various causes, I've come to realize the transformative power of giving back to the community and how it has shaped my understanding of both the world and my character. Volunteer service is like a mirror for me. It reflected my strengths and helped shape my weaknesses. I got chances to work in soap factories, working with diverse teams and facing the unpredictable nature of community service projects. I got a chance to harness my leadership abilities, communication skills, and capacity to problem-solve under pressure. Simultaneously, it highlighted areas where I can refine my skills, fostering a commitment to continuous self-improvement. Of course, volunteering was also enjoyable for me at times, and an enlightening experience. An example I can provide is when I volunteered at a pediatric hospital with some of my closest friends. While we played with the kids and cleaned up after them, we learned so much and had so much fun. It was an amazing and enriching experience which I would not give up on for anything else. One of the most significant lessons from my volunteer experiences has been the recognition that small, consistent actions can lead to significant and lasting change. The impact of collective effort, no matter how modest, can ripple through communities, fostering positive transformations. This realization has instilled in me a sense of responsibility—a recognition that I, as an individual, possess the agency to contribute meaningfully to the betterment of society. It's a lesson that I believe we all should learn, and it taught me how to be the best version of myself. Volunteering changed my life.

The music fled my ears as I took a deep breath and stood on the stage. I stood tall, my back straight, my hips moving to the beat slowly. Then, the beat dropped. I smiled wide, turned around, and confidently looked at my audience, moving with the song's rhythm. It was the best feeling in the world. The bright lights shone on my face as I performed the moves I knew like the back of my hand. I had practiced for hours and hours, and it got me to where I was - in front of over a thousand people, showcasing my Indian heritage and culture through dance. Dance influenced me in ways that I cannot even describe. It taught me how to be myself and shaped me into who I am today. I started dancing when I was only three, with my mother as my teacher. She started me off with simple steps and taught me always to smile. And that's one of the first ways dance influenced me. All my teachers - throughout my life - have always said that I am the only person who always smiles - and that tremendous part of my personality, the positivity, comes from dance. The second thing dance taught me is confidence. When I stood in front of hundreds of people, whether it was to speak or to dance, I was always confident. Dance taught me that no matter what you do, do it confidently because that makes what you're doing a million times better. The third thing dance taught me is perseverance. Yes, you will fall. But if you get up, you can also succeed. That is how you can achieve perfection. If you practice and persevere, you will never go wrong because you will know not to make the mistakes you made before. You will know exactly how to grow, and without a doubt, you will do exactly what you want to. The last thing that dance taught me is passion. Be passionate, be honest to yourself, and you will bring beauty into whatever you do. Whether it's a simple mudra in Bharatnatyam or a backflip in contemporary, just be passionate and be yourself, and you will make whatever you do look beautiful, graceful, and relatable. For me, dance isn't just a hobby but a way of life. I learned to be myself - to be a person who I can be proud of because of my dance. I can stand proud because dance taught me to be proud. Dance influenced my life positively and taught me never to back down because no matter what you do, the worst mistake you can make is giving up. And that's why I will never give up dance.

"Tell me your darkest desire..." Mine is to spend all weekend watching my favorite Netflix series - "Lucifer." This series beckons you with a beguiling quote that encapsulates the essence of this enigmatic series: "The Devil made me do it." The Devil, portrayed with tremendous charm by Tom Ellis, takes you on twists and turns you could never imagine. He takes you on a journey where redemption and temptation stand hand in hand, with a thin string holding them apart. Picture this, Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself, decides to exchange his fiery dominion for the glittering expanse of Los Angeles. Lucifer, with celestial powers, is now a reluctant resident of the City of Angels, where he owns a sophisticated nightclub. But that's only his night job. By day, he's a detective, solving crimes and punishing those who deserve it. What adds a unique flavor to the show is Lucifer's razor-sharp sense of humor, making each interaction a delightful exchange of wit. But, the best part of the show is the storyline. The plot takes you on a journey that starts with desire and lust and ends with family and true love. The series weaves crime-solving elements with supernatural, unconventional genres that make it perfect for anybody. It has romance, family problems, comedy, wit, crime, and supernatural beings. What else do you need? This entire show is a tantalizing twist on traditional detective work, creating a narrative thread that keeps audiences spellbound. Lucifer's journey, despite his infernal origins, is marked by exceptional character development, evoking empathy and support from the audience. You start by hating him, but at the end of the show, I can promise that you'll feel at least a little bit of pity for him. The humor in "Lucifer" is a standout element for me, though. Lucifer Morningstar's one-liners and quick-witted comebacks are pure gold, and they add to the show a perfect balance of intensity and laughter. It transforms the viewing experience into a captivating rollercoaster that elicits both profound emotions and genuine amusement. Of course, that's not all. There's also beautiful music that complements every single scene impeccably. It's an enchanting soundtrack that accompanies the astounding scenes. It is not merely a backdrop but a crucial element that sets the mood for each scene, creating an immersive experience that lingers in the mind long after the binge-watching marathon ends. Murder scenes are always accompanied by somber moods because of the somber music that accompanies them, and comedy scenes are just the slightest bit funny with the little sound effects that the producers added to them. In essence, "Lucifer" is a show that beckons every one of us in at least one way. So embrace your desire to watch the show, clear your schedule, grab some snacks, and prepare for an enchanting binge-watch experience.

I don't know if I ever struggled with my mental health. If I'm being totally honest, I never really knew what it meant. No one was ever open about mental health issues with me and I never had anyone teach me what it meant when my emotions were all over the place, or if I was suddenly feeling this anxious pit in my stomach. It was always just taboo, in a way. My journey with mental health has been a challenging yet transformative odyssey, shaping not only my personal goals and relationships but also fundamentally altering my understanding of the world. My journey started when I volunteered in the therapy section of a pediatric hospital near me. It started when I began to see the different types of psychological issues that can exist. It started when I began to notice that just because someone doesn't look depressed doesn't mean that they aren't facing any issues, neurologically or otherwise. My first encounter with mental health struggles was an unexpected plunge into the depths of anxiety and depression during this volunteering experience. I talked to the patients at the hospital about their struggles and heard their innocent conversations as I interned at the hospital. The experiences I heard were isolating, marked by a profound sense of vulnerability and a stigma that often surrounds discussions about mental health. It was during this tumultuous period that my perception of the world began to shift. The journey through these mental health challenges forced me to confront the societal stigma attached to mental health issues from an insider's perspective. This realization became a catalyst for my advocacy work, prompting me to challenge stereotypes, promote open conversations, and contribute to the creation of a supportive environment for those grappling with similar struggles. It allowed me to confront my own vulnerabilities as well. A couple of weeks after this experience, I gave a speech regarding mental health understanding in the world in front of my entire school. It allowed me to open not only my mind but other's minds as well. In terms of my relationships, I got a chance to explore mental health with my close family and friends and forge unbreakable bonds with them as we explore ourselves with one another. Learning more about mental health allowed me to influence my relationships by deepening connections and fostering empathy, and altered my understanding of the world by prompting a commitment to dismantling stigma and fostering a more compassionate society. While the path has been challenging, the lessons learned have been invaluable, guiding me toward a more empathetic and purpose-driven existence.

I don't know if I ever struggled with my mental health. If I'm being totally honest, I never really knew what it meant. No one was ever open about mental health issues with me and I never had anyone teach me what it meant when my emotions were all over the place, or if I was suddenly feeling this anxious pit in my stomach. It was always just taboo, in a way. My journey with mental health has been a challenging yet transformative odyssey, shaping not only my personal goals and relationships but also fundamentally altering my understanding of the world. My journey started when I volunteered in the therapy section of a pediatric hospital near me. It started when I began to see the different types of psychological issues that can exist. It started when I began to notice that just because someone doesn't look depressed doesn't mean that they aren't facing any issues, neurologically or otherwise. My first encounter with mental health struggles was an unexpected plunge into the depths of anxiety and depression during this volunteering experience. I talked to the patients at the hospital about their struggles and heard their innocent, yet deep, conversations as I interned at the hospital. The experiences I heard were isolating, marked by a profound sense of vulnerability and a stigma that often surrounds discussions about mental health. It was during this tumultuous period that my perception of the world began to shift. The journey through these mental health challenges forced me to confront the societal stigma attached to mental health issues from an insider's perspective. This realization became a catalyst for my advocacy work, prompting me to challenge stereotypes, promote open conversations, and contribute to the creation of a supportive environment for those grappling with similar struggles. It allowed me to confront my own vulnerabilities as well. A couple of weeks after this experience, I gave a speech regarding mental health understanding in the world in front of my entire school. It allowed me to open not only my mind but other's minds as well. In terms of my relationships, I got a chance to explore mental health with my close family and friends and forge unbreakable bonds with them as we explore ourselves with one another. Learning more about mental health allowed me to influence my relationships by deepening connections and fostering empathy, and altered my understanding of the world by prompting a commitment to dismantling stigma and fostering a more compassionate society. While the path has been challenging, the lessons learned have been invaluable, guiding me toward a more empathetic and purpose-driven existence.

Imagine being twelve, your life in turmoil as one of the only people you ever loved was gone. That was me. I was in India with my parents. The next time I saw my grandmother was in the hospital when we all found out she had cancer. I barely understood what was going on, simply following doctors and nurses everywhere with my parents, only one thing on my mind. My grandma was not okay. I didn't understand the extent of the problem until a few months later, on March 19th, when my grandma was going through chemotherapy. It was the last time I saw my grandmother with pink cheeks. She was on a hospital bed, wires all around her, machinery surrounding her body, doctors poking and prodding her like she was an object. I didn't cry though. I came back to the United States a couple of days later, leaving my mom in India, being forced to return because of the fear of being held back a grade because of the circumstances and continuous absence. But my grandma was the only thing on my mind. I was her "muthukudam," which means a pot of pearls in Malayalam. I was her "kunju," her baby girl. She was my "ammama," my best friend outside of my parents. She was perfect. I prayed and prayed that nothing would happen to her. But my prayers went in vain. The next thing I knew, I was on a flight back to India, because her condition had worsened. The next time I saw her was also the last time I saw her. It was a couple of months later. She was so frail, so tiny on that giant hospital bed. She looked so weak. But her bright smile continued to light up the room like no other. I still can't help but smile when I think of it. I remember her warm hugs. The last warm hug I got from her was that day, and I remember it every single day. A few days later, without any warning, my grandmother passed away. I couldn't believe it at first. I just sat in the room, numb, while my mother cried in front of me. I just sat there. Suddenly, it all came crashing down. Everything made sense. I screamed, I cried, I yelled. I did everything. I refused to believe it was true. I refused to see her body for the last time. I couldn't admit that it actually happened. My grandmother was not just a matriarch; she was the embodiment of strength, resilience, and unwavering love. Her diagnosis became a turning point, propelling me into a journey marked by both heartbreak and a newfound sense of purpose. The countless hours spent in hospitals, witnessing the tireless efforts of healthcare professionals, ignited a spark within me. It was during those moments that I realized the impact a compassionate and skilled doctor can have on the lives of individuals and their families. The pain of loss brought into sharp focus the fragility of life and the importance of health. It was a stark reminder that our time on this earth is limited, and the moments we have with our loved ones are precious. In the face of such a profound loss, I found clarity about what truly matters most—our well-being and the well-being of those we hold dear. This realization became the driving force behind my decision to pursue a career in medicine. I wanted to transform the pain of loss into a catalyst for positive change. I wanted to fight against the diseases that had taken my grandmother and countless others prematurely. Becoming a doctor became not just a career choice but a personal mission—to alleviate suffering, provide comfort, and contribute to advancements in medical science. My grandmother's battle with cancer has taught me to cherish each moment, to prioritize health and compassion, and to channel grief into a relentless pursuit of a better, healthier world. As I forge ahead on the path to becoming a doctor, I carry her memory with me, transforming pain into purpose and loss into a commitment to fight for the well-being of others.I want to fight to help other people achieve what I could not. A few more moments with their grandparents, parents, loved ones, and just a little more love.

Success, to me, is an intricate tapestry woven from the threads of passion, perseverance, and personal growth. Success can have many different definitions based on your outlook on the word. It's not a one-size-fits-all journey but rather one that extends beyond traditional achievements. Success, from my point of view, is the commitment to pursuing my dreams, continuously learning, always improving, and overcoming challenges. When I was 7, I asked my parents a very innocent question: "Am I successful?" I had just learned the word "success," and my teacher told me that "success" means you have achieved everything you wanted. In my young mind, I was absolutely certain that I had achieved everything I needed. My dad responded in a way that I will never be able to forget. He told me, "Honey, you are always successful as long as you don't give up." Then, he became the true Indian parent and said, "But you have to have hundreds in every class." Of course, 7-year-old me just said, "Okay," and walked away. But, as I grow older and remember those times, I always think about how success isn't always about being perfect (although that's a huge plus). It's just about being me. Success involves mastering the intricacies of my craft, contributing innovative solutions to challenges within what I want to do, and inspiring positive change - trying to make a difference. That is what success is to me. This Redefining Victory Scholarship opportunity is a crucial stepping stone in my pursuit of success because it recognizes the diverse paths individuals take to achieve their goals, acknowledging that success isn't confined to any traditional academic routes. I don't have to be perfect in everything I do. I just need to be able to learn from my mistakes and shape my mind to adapt to different circumstances. This aligns perfectly with my belief in the power of unconventional journeys and the importance of embracing unique avenues for personal growth. Financial support plays a pivotal role in enabling success, and the $10,000 award from this scholarship would significantly contribute to easing the financial burdens associated with pursuing my educational and career aspirations, for me and my parents. It would provide the means to invest in resources, workshops, and opportunities that will enhance my skills and knowledge in medicine. It would let me achieve my dreams. I've been wanting to be a doctor since I was 5. When I was in kindergarten, other kids would play "House" or "Candy Land," but I would always be in a little corner with one of my friends, pretending that I was a doctor. It's always been my dream and this scholarship would be a perfect first step towards my dream. Moreover, being a recipient of the Redefining Victory Scholarship would not only validate my unconventional approach to success but also serve as a testament to the impact of diverse perspectives in shaping the future. It would amplify my voice, allowing me to share my journey and inspire others who may be on similar non-traditional paths.

It was a dark and stormy night. I had just gotten home from a bad day. I lost my debate tournament, and it was after I was so sure that I would win. But I didn't. It was horrible. Seeking solace in the realm of music, I clicked on a random K-pop playlist, hoping for an escape. Little did I know that this moment would mark the beginning of a profound connection with a group that would go on to redefine not only my musical preferences but also my outlook on life. Ever since I accidentally stumbled across the vibrant world of K-pop, my life has been punctuated by the rhythmic beats and mesmerizing performances of the sensational group - you know who they are - the one, the only: BTS. Their impact on my life and global culture was nothing short of transformative. They showed me that you only need music and the darkest day can be brighter than you would ever imagine. As I lay in my bed that day, the thunder crackling outside, I smiled because of them. The day that I thought would never get better became just a little bit more "Dope." I was hooked. The infectious energy and impeccable choreography resonated with me in a way that no other music had before. But, it wasn't just the music - even the lyrics made me a little bit happier. I've heard many people say that K-pop is shallow. I used to think the same thing. But, after that one night, I never thought the same way again. The music was bright, it was colorful, and it almost made me forget my grievances. It made me feel like I didn't need to worry about all the problems I was facing, but rather just be myself and everything would get better. It changed my outlook on how I should go about life. It also changed my wardrobe, but that's a whole different story. The more I listened to their songs, the more I began to realize that BTS's music wasn't just fun, but rather, each one was a beautiful story that addressed the complexities of life. Their lyrics talked about dreams, struggles, and self-discovery in a way that felt deeply personal. Each song became a companion, offering solace in moments of loneliness and providing motivation during times of self-doubt. But BTS's impact went beyond the confines of my AirPods. Their emotions of self-love, resilience, and embracing imperfections became a guiding philosophy for me. In a world that often demands conformity, BTS stood as a beacon of authenticity, encouraging me to embrace my individuality and pursue my passions unapologetically. So, that's who I am today. Not just a person who is part of the ARMY, but also a person who learned from BTS and grew with them with love for them (especially Jimin!)

I used to have 4 grandparents, but by the age of 13, I only had one. 2 of them had passed away from cancer. My grandma, the only person in the world who would take care of me when my mom yelled at me, my best friend, and the kindest, most wonderful person in the world was taken away from me because of cancer. I couldn't believe she had passed when I found out. I was too scared to even see her body after she died because I couldn't bring myself to believe it happened. It was one of the worst days of my life and it made me believe in making the best of every moment because you never know when one moment could be your last. It made me believe in being kind because you never know what they may be going through. It made me want to be a doctor because that was the first time I realized that helping people through medicine could prevent something like this from happening to another little girl or boy somewhere on this planet. Then, my grandpa was affected by cancer, and in one fell swoop, my mom was an orphan. It was like a light inside of her disappeared, like something that kept her pepped up was gone. My dad and I tried our best to keep her happy, but it took her years to heal. It was horrible. I had not only lost two grandparents, but also a little bit of my mom, which has only just begun returning. I saw my mom suffering, because she had no one to talk to, and I couldn't even imagine how bad that would feel for anyone who saw both their parents slowly die before their eyes, in so much pain. I wanted to prevent that suffering, but I couldn't. Doctors tried, but even they couldn't. The money it took to keep them alive for so long was so much that my family couldn't even fully afford it. It was horrible. And I want to become a doctor to prevent anything like this, specializing in either breast cancer or brain tumor removal, because those are the most life-threatening diseases that exist. I want to prevent anything so bad, so sad from happening to anyone on this planet because I know how it feels to lose someone, and how it feels to have someone you love disappear.