Undergraduate / 'mathematical thirs' - Common App Early Application to Yale [9]

It all began when I was ten. The lure of math competitions got to me, and I participated in and won the prestigious Aryabhatta math competition and finished runner up in equally renowned Ramanujan competition. The run up to the events lasted all year and mock tests replaced daily assembly sessions. Most people would be cursing themselves for getting into such a position, but I couldn't have been happier. That one year spent rubbing my eyes in between solving math problems at 6 in the morning changed my life forever.

To most, any mention of mathematics may evoke memories of long nights involving excessive hair pulling and paper tearing, but to me, it signifies the beginning of my tryst with a lifelong companion.

Fundamentally, mathematics is the white on the rice of numbers. It makes sense then, that a passion for mathematics be born out of a penchant for numbers.

Numbers have forever defined me.1 describes the way I think. 2 indicates the number of hours I spend travelling in a day. The elusive 8 is the number of hours of sleep I'm supposed to get. 666 isn't the number of the Devil to me, it is the approximate number of hours I have spent in my enrichment class, learning the complexities of Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics that are beyond the scope of the school curriculum. Come to think of it, numbers form an integral part of every process. Let's consider indefinite integrals. Integrate a polynomial and you end up with another polynomial. However, throw in a set of numbers as limits, and we have a definite value, suitable for practical use. And what would one do without zero, the Higgs boson of mathematics? The world, as we know it, wouldn't exist. The consequences are paradoxical and infinite.

When not on the competitive grid, or marvelling at the infinite splendor of numbers, I engage in other activities to satiate my mathematical thirst. A recent venture in this direction is a math help website that I started, to help students world over. This idea bore fruit when my math teacher at school assigned me to help a boy with his studies. Looking back now, I am glad that my efforts have helped people in their academic endeavors.

Be it as a wobbly 10 year old or a robust young adult, mathematics has been the definitive aspect of my being, one that has stood strong in the face of video games and Manchester United. It all boils down to this then: Why do I like math? The reason is as perceptible as the subject is labyrinthine. Math is abstract, yet absolute. It is man-made, yet the entire universe is modeled around it. I call it the 'perfect science'.

Undergraduate / 'significance of my walk' - Yale Supplement Essay [2]

This is the essay for the Yale Supplement question which asks students to write something about them which isn't otherwise obvious from the application process.

With my dusty shoes sinking into the sand and my heavily tanned skin oozing sweat, I trudge along my daily route across the sandy stretches of Dubai, to catch a cab to my enrichment class. Walking ahead, I climb onto the footbridge. A hundred thoughts pop up in my overly congested mind as I stare at passers-by hurrying along. "That guy is talking to his boss". "That man is grimacing at his out dated iPod playlist". "That woman is staring at me suspiciously". And I turn my gaze away. I like observing people. One's habits are intertwined with one's sub conscience. No wonder detectives secretly tail their marks for days before closing in on them directly.

The footbridge conquered, it's time for the basement walk through the mall parking. I stare at the cars parked around me and imagine a life driving each one of those. In one, I would be a delivery boy, in another, an obedient worker in a quaint office, and in yet another, the CEO of a multinational corporation. It's funny how we are so fastidious about hierarchy in the workplace, yet when it comes to our cars, we always park them together. It is fascinating to note that irrespective of who we are, our cars form a homogeneous society, refusing to submit to protocol. If these peaceable motorized transporters could talk, I think they would second my words.

I'm out of the mall premises now. People are rushing past by the hundreds around me. The mad rush is a reminder of the anxious world that we live in. People are impatient and social interaction is crumbling. Yes, crumbling is the word. The tomfoolery of social media interaction has not substituted actual human conversation. It has just succeeded in creating a generation of increasingly introverted and socially awkward people who are hesitant to meet others. I salute those who buck the trend by using their internet accounts as subordinates to their real life discourses.

Nearing the end of my commute, I see the rows of cream colored cabs in the horizon and am struck with a realization. Each day, the worker in me converses with the traveller in me who relays the message to the observer and this connection builds up the person that I am. As I enter the nearest taxicab, I think of that significance of my walk, which will lead me into the hallowed portal of Phelps Gate. This will pave new avenues for me to continue my perambulation in the colder climes of New Haven, observing the world with each passing step.

Undergraduate / 'Life experience rather than pedagogy' - Common App Essay - Influence of Person Yale [3]

I have decided to use the Numbers essay on my Yale Supplement and the following essay on the common app. Do review it. :)

Randy Pausch died of cancer in 2008. In 2007, he delivered his last lecture, in which he brought teddy bears to the podium, pretended to be the Mad Hatter, and shared his boyhood dream of being Captain Kirk.

I gave the first interview of my life in the 12th grade, for the post of President - Editorial Board, at school. As I entered the interview room, seven of the school's sternest faces stared at me in unison, ready to tear my soul apart like shredded paper. Now, the good part: as I was beckoned to my chair, my mind went blank and I had precious few seconds to compose myself before my interviewers began bombarding me with questions. Not knowing what to do, I closed my eyes and there sat Randy Pausch, grinning at me from his heavenly pedestal. It appeared as if he was saying something. Sadly, my mind was on mute. Then, through the confusion, I remembered Randy's words from his last lecture, "Brick walls are there for a reason, they let us prove how badly we want things." People often realize/point out turning points in their lives, much after they have occurred, but precious few realize them while they are happening. When I opened my eyes, Randy Pausch was replaced by a bemused interviewer, but I knew I had changed. I had not turned any wiser, but I had discovered the single most important lesson of my life: Never give up. The interview had shifted in meaning; it was now the brick wall that I had to hammer down. With the force strong in me, I proceeded to demolish the questions put forth to me, with Randy's quick wit and spontaneity in my breast pocket.

I have learnt the most important lessons of life from experience rather than pedagogy. As Randy advocated in his speech, "Most of what we learn, we learn indirectly." I have learnt the fundamentals of cooperation and team spirit in my time at the Editorial Board. I believe there is no better way to bond than to run around the school with your teammates, getting work done. This experience has also taught me another of Randy's valuable lessons, "Be good at something: it makes you valuable to the team." Without Randy's words of wisdom, I would not have discovered my worth to the Editorial Board as a writer and would have laid my talent to waste.

Randy Pausch's speech has led me to an important conclusion: To make the world fall in place, you must shift the blocks yourself. The man changed my life with 90 minutes of his time. To describe singularly what I have learnt from Randy, I would use the Latin phrase "Credo quia absurdum - I believe because it is absurd".