Hey guys! I'd greatly appreciate it if my common app essay can be edited for clarity, organization, and really any apparent errors. Thanks a ton!
Every time my grandfather heard the howling of monkeys, he ran out with his slingshot to drive the parasitic primates away. At first, I was confused why he was taking such extreme measures, but I eventually learned the monkeys were wasting the fruits my grandfather spent months cultivating.
I was fourteen the first time I noticed my grandfather's odd behavior. Carefully he would place a pebble between the rubber slit of his crude contraption, pull back, and release. The distinct crackling of the branches, as the rock pierced through the rough foliage, sent chills down my spine. With each pebble, the rustling of the trees grew louder as more and more monkeys realized the encroaching danger. Suddenly a deafening shriek caught my ear. Did I just hear the final breath of a fellow primate? That was most likely not the case; however, I could not shake the possibility of an unlucky monkey taking a pebble to the forehead. As the astonishment gradually wore off, I regained the ability to think. The first thought being why is my grandfather, one of the most gentle men I know, performing such barbaric acts?
Confused and horrified, I begged him to stop. "Don't worry" he said, "I'm not aiming at them, I'm just trying to scare them away." I continued to pester him explaining that this was a blatant act of animal cruelty, yet my remarks were having no effect as his onslaught of pebbles kept raining down. My grandfather's mind was elsewhere, probably demonizing the monkeys for wasting his precious mango and jackfruits. Eventually I mustered up the courage to snatch away his slingshot, sentencing his assault to a complete halt. I had postponed the one-sided war for now. Indifferently, my grandfather stated "it's alright, I can make another," as he walked away to forage for some new slingshot materials. My grandfather was giving me a choice: either let him drive away the monkeys, or let the primates continue wasting the fruits of his labor.
For days I wrestled with this dilemma to no avail. I couldn't let the monkeys waste such valuable food, yet the severity of the punishment was too extreme. At the brink of desperation, a solution arrived through a spurt of insight when viewing the Vesak festival, a three day celebration of the Buddha's birth, enlightenment, and death. As I watched the gold enveloped elephants march around the Ashokaramaya Temple, fireworks rocketed out from the center. The deafening sounds triggered my memory, as I realized that I could use bang snaps-small novelty fireworks that I have played with in America-to drive away the monkeys. Bang snaps, though incapable of physical harm, produce a ridiculous amount of noise.
The familiar sound of howling monkeys was my cue to run to the corner store and purchase a box of bang snaps. I witnessed, once again, my grandfather place the small pouch of explosive between the rubber slit, pull back, and release. However, this time I stood certain that no "furry little devil" would be harmed. The booming sounds began to frighten the monkeys and within minutes they all dispersed. This left a smile, etched cheek to cheek, on my grandfather's face. I had saved his precious fruits.
The monkeys had tested the bond between me, my grandfather, and my culture. They forced me to compare my values-ones that have been influenced by American ideals-to the values of my heritage. By using an American experience to solve a Sri Lankan problem, I demonstrated that the differing societies binding me together can associate and come to fruition. Ultimately I improved my understanding of my culture while also growing closer to my grandfather. In hindsight, maybe the monkeys weren't so bad after all.
Every time my grandfather heard the howling of monkeys, he ran out with his slingshot to drive the parasitic primates away. At first, I was confused why he was taking such extreme measures, but I eventually learned the monkeys were wasting the fruits my grandfather spent months cultivating.
I was fourteen the first time I noticed my grandfather's odd behavior. Carefully he would place a pebble between the rubber slit of his crude contraption, pull back, and release. The distinct crackling of the branches, as the rock pierced through the rough foliage, sent chills down my spine. With each pebble, the rustling of the trees grew louder as more and more monkeys realized the encroaching danger. Suddenly a deafening shriek caught my ear. Did I just hear the final breath of a fellow primate? That was most likely not the case; however, I could not shake the possibility of an unlucky monkey taking a pebble to the forehead. As the astonishment gradually wore off, I regained the ability to think. The first thought being why is my grandfather, one of the most gentle men I know, performing such barbaric acts?
Confused and horrified, I begged him to stop. "Don't worry" he said, "I'm not aiming at them, I'm just trying to scare them away." I continued to pester him explaining that this was a blatant act of animal cruelty, yet my remarks were having no effect as his onslaught of pebbles kept raining down. My grandfather's mind was elsewhere, probably demonizing the monkeys for wasting his precious mango and jackfruits. Eventually I mustered up the courage to snatch away his slingshot, sentencing his assault to a complete halt. I had postponed the one-sided war for now. Indifferently, my grandfather stated "it's alright, I can make another," as he walked away to forage for some new slingshot materials. My grandfather was giving me a choice: either let him drive away the monkeys, or let the primates continue wasting the fruits of his labor.
For days I wrestled with this dilemma to no avail. I couldn't let the monkeys waste such valuable food, yet the severity of the punishment was too extreme. At the brink of desperation, a solution arrived through a spurt of insight when viewing the Vesak festival, a three day celebration of the Buddha's birth, enlightenment, and death. As I watched the gold enveloped elephants march around the Ashokaramaya Temple, fireworks rocketed out from the center. The deafening sounds triggered my memory, as I realized that I could use bang snaps-small novelty fireworks that I have played with in America-to drive away the monkeys. Bang snaps, though incapable of physical harm, produce a ridiculous amount of noise.
The familiar sound of howling monkeys was my cue to run to the corner store and purchase a box of bang snaps. I witnessed, once again, my grandfather place the small pouch of explosive between the rubber slit, pull back, and release. However, this time I stood certain that no "furry little devil" would be harmed. The booming sounds began to frighten the monkeys and within minutes they all dispersed. This left a smile, etched cheek to cheek, on my grandfather's face. I had saved his precious fruits.
The monkeys had tested the bond between me, my grandfather, and my culture. They forced me to compare my values-ones that have been influenced by American ideals-to the values of my heritage. By using an American experience to solve a Sri Lankan problem, I demonstrated that the differing societies binding me together can associate and come to fruition. Ultimately I improved my understanding of my culture while also growing closer to my grandfather. In hindsight, maybe the monkeys weren't so bad after all.