The prompt is: Stanford students are widely known to possess a sense of intellectual vitality. Tell us about an idea or an experience you have had that you find intellectually engaging.
I never met my grandfather. I never got the chance to call him dada, as Indian grandchildren call their grandfathers. When I was younger, I never knew why I only had one grandfather. It was a subject that was evaded at all costs. It wasn't until I was older that I began to question what little I knew of him.
My mom told me the abridged version. My grandfather had been running a successful business in Uganda during Idi Amin's military takeover. Idi Amin ordered all Indians to leave the country, and my grandfather sent my mom and grandmother ahead to India. He was supposed to follow, but they never saw him again.
But that story wasn't enough for me. I needed to know more. And that's what brought me to develop one of my most meaningful passions. I started translating his journal; an unusual book, leather-bound and exuding old-world charm; and written in Gujarati. The job was difficult, because handwriting is subjective and not computer-print perfect.
It was a slow, painstaking work. I would take a letter at a time, and reference it to a list of Gujarati letters. After identifying which letter it was, I would phonetically transcribe the sound the letter made in English. I would then sound out the word, and figure out what it meant.
As time passed, I slowly learned to recognize what each letter looked like and what sound it made. I began to uncover pieces of my grandfather's thoughts. I learned that he secretly wanted to be a doctor, but was forced to study business. I have always wanted to be a doctor, and through that yellowing paper, I forged a connection with him.
It was therapeutic for me. But it also made me realize a love of linguistics. It was intellectually stimulating as well as emotionally curative for me. Looking back, I can realize that while my ultimate goal was to learn about my grandfather, I also learned about myself. I discovered a love of language, because it allowed me to connect with my grandfather, though I never met him. I discovered a love for a challenge. I honed an ability that I never would have had otherwise.
I never met my grandfather. I never got the chance to call him dada, as Indian grandchildren call their grandfathers. When I was younger, I never knew why I only had one grandfather. It was a subject that was evaded at all costs. It wasn't until I was older that I began to question what little I knew of him.
My mom told me the abridged version. My grandfather had been running a successful business in Uganda during Idi Amin's military takeover. Idi Amin ordered all Indians to leave the country, and my grandfather sent my mom and grandmother ahead to India. He was supposed to follow, but they never saw him again.
But that story wasn't enough for me. I needed to know more. And that's what brought me to develop one of my most meaningful passions. I started translating his journal; an unusual book, leather-bound and exuding old-world charm; and written in Gujarati. The job was difficult, because handwriting is subjective and not computer-print perfect.
It was a slow, painstaking work. I would take a letter at a time, and reference it to a list of Gujarati letters. After identifying which letter it was, I would phonetically transcribe the sound the letter made in English. I would then sound out the word, and figure out what it meant.
As time passed, I slowly learned to recognize what each letter looked like and what sound it made. I began to uncover pieces of my grandfather's thoughts. I learned that he secretly wanted to be a doctor, but was forced to study business. I have always wanted to be a doctor, and through that yellowing paper, I forged a connection with him.
It was therapeutic for me. But it also made me realize a love of linguistics. It was intellectually stimulating as well as emotionally curative for me. Looking back, I can realize that while my ultimate goal was to learn about my grandfather, I also learned about myself. I discovered a love of language, because it allowed me to connect with my grandfather, though I never met him. I discovered a love for a challenge. I honed an ability that I never would have had otherwise.
