Please critique on my CommonApp essay. Here's the full topic - Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story. ( 650 words max)
Essay :
I stood there and watched in horror as the slimy long centipede kept approaching me steadily. My tiny little feet were rooted to the ground, too frail to make even the faintest of movement. I was about to cry out loud in terror, when my mom came out of nowhere to bash the head of the centipede with a long stick.
From rescuing me from poisonous centipedes to constantly finding ways to bring out the best in me - my mom is my hero in every sense. There is an inimitable similarity between the two of us. From our affinity for literature to our deep-rooted predilection for Tagore music - we share the same interests and hobbies.This uniformity is not surprising given the amount of time I got to spend with her ever since my birth. My mother's label of "home-maker" meant that she had all the time in the world to look after me. For me, growing up was all about following my mother's footsteps. Her actions were like carefully crafted magic tricks which enthralled me and which I would try to replicate in every step of my life. There was something edifying in everything she did, but the most important lesson she taught me was to put the need of others before my own. Growing up,I would see helpless people knocking on our door almost every other day, but never did I witness them returning empty-handed. Whether it was through offering shelter, food, or even in the form of taking a dying soul to the hospital at midnight - my mother would always stand by the side of others. Her altruism played a huge role in my life, for it instigated me to involve in community service at an early age. Contrary to those of most other kids, my Sundays would consist of routine excursions with mom to the nearby mosques and slums to distribute food and clothing among the underprivileged.
There are probably a million ways in which my mom has inspired me, but her relentless pursuit in instilling a sense of patriotism in me is something I would rate above anything else. As a child, I used to have a strong abomination towards my own nationality. I detested the drab and murky land of Bangladesh and the seemingly endless list of problems associated with it. My resentment towards the Bengali way of living prompted me to adopt a non-Bengali lifestyle - one that would include watching "Sesame Street" instead of "Sisimpur" or eating Macaroni and Cheese instead of the Bengali staple of "maach-bhaat". My mother would never disapprove of this lifestyle directly, but she had her own crafty ways of taking me back to my roots. Quite often she would recount to me gripping tales of Bangladesh's Liberation War of 1971, tales that gave vivid descriptions of the way millions like my grandfather sacrificed their lives for the sake of the country. Instead of buying me expensive toys for my birthdays, she would buy me books about the rich history and culture of Bangladesh. They were much more than just books to me, for they were my doors to a whole new world - a world where I knew how to love "the land of red and green" and adore its beauty and unique traditions. From the kid with an extreme abhorrence towards his own nationality to the jingoistic Bangladeshi who would even take it to the streets to protest against social injustice in the country - I underwent an astounding transformation that was only possible due to mom.
My mother is the center of my universe. She is the one who is central to my identity and who makes me who I am. She is my harshest critic and my most fervent and loyal adherent. My lifelong journey for her approval shaped all my interests, habits and traits. As I am typing this in my sunny living-room in New York, she is probably sleeping in her bedroom in Dhaka. Despite the overwhelming distance of thousands of miles that separates us, my urgency to make her proud propels me forward like an unbridled horse racing towards the finish line.
In addition to pointing out the grammatical errors, please provide feedback on the overall content and writing style of my essay as well. Also, I have exceeded the word limit by a few words. So please offer me some suggestions on cutting down the number of words. Thanks in advance :)
Essay :
I stood there and watched in horror as the slimy long centipede kept approaching me steadily. My tiny little feet were rooted to the ground, too frail to make even the faintest of movement. I was about to cry out loud in terror, when my mom came out of nowhere to bash the head of the centipede with a long stick.
From rescuing me from poisonous centipedes to constantly finding ways to bring out the best in me - my mom is my hero in every sense. There is an inimitable similarity between the two of us. From our affinity for literature to our deep-rooted predilection for Tagore music - we share the same interests and hobbies.This uniformity is not surprising given the amount of time I got to spend with her ever since my birth. My mother's label of "home-maker" meant that she had all the time in the world to look after me. For me, growing up was all about following my mother's footsteps. Her actions were like carefully crafted magic tricks which enthralled me and which I would try to replicate in every step of my life. There was something edifying in everything she did, but the most important lesson she taught me was to put the need of others before my own. Growing up,I would see helpless people knocking on our door almost every other day, but never did I witness them returning empty-handed. Whether it was through offering shelter, food, or even in the form of taking a dying soul to the hospital at midnight - my mother would always stand by the side of others. Her altruism played a huge role in my life, for it instigated me to involve in community service at an early age. Contrary to those of most other kids, my Sundays would consist of routine excursions with mom to the nearby mosques and slums to distribute food and clothing among the underprivileged.
There are probably a million ways in which my mom has inspired me, but her relentless pursuit in instilling a sense of patriotism in me is something I would rate above anything else. As a child, I used to have a strong abomination towards my own nationality. I detested the drab and murky land of Bangladesh and the seemingly endless list of problems associated with it. My resentment towards the Bengali way of living prompted me to adopt a non-Bengali lifestyle - one that would include watching "Sesame Street" instead of "Sisimpur" or eating Macaroni and Cheese instead of the Bengali staple of "maach-bhaat". My mother would never disapprove of this lifestyle directly, but she had her own crafty ways of taking me back to my roots. Quite often she would recount to me gripping tales of Bangladesh's Liberation War of 1971, tales that gave vivid descriptions of the way millions like my grandfather sacrificed their lives for the sake of the country. Instead of buying me expensive toys for my birthdays, she would buy me books about the rich history and culture of Bangladesh. They were much more than just books to me, for they were my doors to a whole new world - a world where I knew how to love "the land of red and green" and adore its beauty and unique traditions. From the kid with an extreme abhorrence towards his own nationality to the jingoistic Bangladeshi who would even take it to the streets to protest against social injustice in the country - I underwent an astounding transformation that was only possible due to mom.
My mother is the center of my universe. She is the one who is central to my identity and who makes me who I am. She is my harshest critic and my most fervent and loyal adherent. My lifelong journey for her approval shaped all my interests, habits and traits. As I am typing this in my sunny living-room in New York, she is probably sleeping in her bedroom in Dhaka. Despite the overwhelming distance of thousands of miles that separates us, my urgency to make her proud propels me forward like an unbridled horse racing towards the finish line.
In addition to pointing out the grammatical errors, please provide feedback on the overall content and writing style of my essay as well. Also, I have exceeded the word limit by a few words. So please offer me some suggestions on cutting down the number of words. Thanks in advance :)