Undergraduate / My Family was in huge debt; Common App [2]

"Look Everyone, Mr. Cheapskate is here" ; this was the usual jeer I got from my classmates as I entered the class. Maybe it was because of my torn pants, the hole in my shoes or the outdated backpack that I carried. I never knew. But Mr. Cheapskate was what I had become. I was brandished with this name soon after I joined boarding school as a fourth grader. They had labeled me Mr. Cheapskate based on my "impoverished family status". I did not have the audacity to shut up the babbling tongue of my friends. I was alone. There was no one to comfort me, to brace me.

My Family was in huge debt. Seeing my parents struggle empowered me to rise up from the derisive comments of my friends but this resolution diminished as quickly as it had formed. Everything gradually became blurred and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into what it really was: an illusion.

My mother used to say " Do not despair in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight against darkness." I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who was strong enough to fight with the darkness and find his way to the light. Secretly, I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.

Sewed tattered pant, rumpled shirt, carelessly done tie, backpack with few stitches on them, worn shoes that were way past their due; my usual uniform for school. And everyday, When I stepped into my classroom , the same drama began: Cheapskate!

To become poor was not our wish. It was a life-sentence. My personal hell.
No one in the class wanted to sit next to me. Everyone had their own reasons - I was poor. I smelled like rotten eggs. My parents never hurled any nasty comment at me. I had heard "Poor are the ones who act and think low" so instead, I felt sorry for my friends.

I never confronted them for debasing me. Not once did I reply back or made an effort to. It was not because I lacked the courage but, It was because I was strong enough to bear every humiliation and persevering enough to not let these conditions affect me.

Despite being poor, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never felt inferior. Even when there was hardly any money to run the household, my parents enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem dwindle. I was there to carry out my responsibility towards my parents like they had done towards me.

I realized. I could not run away from the daily humiliation because to run away meant to give up my parents , on my responsibility.
Eventually, every disparaging comment my so- called friends used raged a fire inside me. It burned so strong and emboldened me to halt the everyday bullying of my classmates and I cry out, "Shut up. That's enough."

Undergraduate / "impoverished family status"; Personal statement [6]

Look Everyone! Mr. Destitute is here. Oops! Poor boy.! My Friends used to cheer up in my presence. Maybe I was like a joker! Or, maybe I looked like a cartoon character! Or in what context , I never knew. I thought it was because I was their special friend- a destitute friend. "Destitute" became my surname after I joined boarding school in grade-4. My surname was based on my "impoverished family status". I did not have the boldness to shut up the babbling tongue of my friends. I was alone. There was no one, not even a single friend to comfort me, to brace me, to reinforce me.

My Family was in huge debt. My parents hardship and cumbersome always alerted me to booster and exhilarate up but, the abasement from friends surpass everything and subside my vigor of touching zenith . Everything gradually became invisible and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into just a one-page picture in my mind.

My mother always said " Do not desist and relinquish in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight with darkness. " Then, I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who is ready and vigorous to battle with darkness, to free himself from the everyday torture and depravity of friendly enemies. I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.

Sewed tattered pant and rumpled shirt, carelessly inserted tie in shirt column, obsolete bag, shoes-the one used during the rainy season; my usual dress for school. And everyday, When I step my legs in front of the classroom door, the same drama begins: Destitute!

To become poor was not a wish of my family neither it was a lottery for them. It was a compulsion.
No one in the class wanted to share the bench with me. Everyone has their own reason and their reasons was coherent-"I was poor and smell bad like a rotten egg ". My parents never told me and even myself, I never felt like a rotten egg, neither I felt poor. I had heard "Poor are those who thinks poor and act poor" and I felt sorry for my friends.

I never quarrel with them for mortification and debasement they showed towards me. Not even once I managed an effort to reply them back. It was not because I was enfeeble or debilitated but, It was because I was stalwart to bear every debasement and my tenacity was bold enough to appease every turbulent condition into tranquil.

Despite being impecunious, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never got a feeling of poorness. Even when there was not a rupee in my parent pocket, they enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem adulterate. I have to complete my responsibility towards my parents like they did towards me.

I realized. I cannot run away from friends daily humiliation because to run away means to forget my responsibility.
Eventually, every word my friends used to disparage me circulated throughout my mind like the fire of agony. My internal impetus aggrandized rapidly and bolster me to halt the everyday affliction from the door of the classroom; I outcry -"Shut up you poors!".

Writing Feedback / "My Only Friend" [7]

15th November, 2008. This date vividly strikes my mind each time I flashback my past. I lost her eternally. Chandani! My relentless voice was slackening down gradually with the drizzling rain, like the smoke slowly vanishing as moving up in the atmosphere. I was watching as if it was a cinema or a play. Helpless . Motionless . My Heart throbbed in its highest pulse ever. My eyes soaked in tears. But still, I was watching. And yet, Frozen- like an ice, a statue or a building. Solely, like a "living dead". Instantly, I summon an Internal impetus to help my static leg set in motion and rush towards her. She was still breathing. There was some hope left. I tautly hold her hands. She glimpsed at me and smile- a profound smile. An ocean of tears dripped down my cheeks like a Niagara Falls, persistently. She utters some words but indecipherable. I ensue each word but ultimately, she closed her eyes and adhere her lips.

Doctor! We rush her towards operation theater. Dozens of pictures played in my mind - picture of "us". We barely departed in past days despite different family background. Not only she had a great influence on me, but in fact, she is the epitome of my every success. From aloof, heedless, complacent and irresponsible characteristic person , I was changed to jovial, painstaking, candor and responsible -me-today- and all these credits goes to "her"- Chadani . In my life, I've loved, I've lost, I've missed, I've hurt, I've trusted, I've made mistakes but most of all I've learned and she is the teacher who taught me. Life for me was just nothing at all but, she defined it for me-" Life is like a box of chocolates. We never know what we are going to get neither we know what we are going to lose." She adorned every page of my life like a rainbow and taught me the real meaning of life- taught me how to smile in pain, how to success in failure, how to overcome with distress, how to light life in the middle of darkness. She is not only a friend to me. In fact, she is the instructor, mender and most of all, my only one friend-best friend- I will never ever have another again.