College application essays - Part 1

Emory University- "The wise heart seeks knowledge"

Q 1. What academic areas are you interested in exploring at Emory University and why? (200 words)

With its infinite chaos, subjectivity is the philosopher’s domain. With its structured order, objectivity the logician’s. Pursuing logic has led me to quantitative sciences, where the world’s chaos is distilled in datasets—staggeringly dense and intricate, sure—but with an internal structure waiting to be discerned.

However, data’s objectivity isn’t tantamount to a lack of bias. My research on ABA therapy at BloomingWords revealed that technology, rooted in neurotypical data, marginalized the needs of the neurodivergent community. If human cognition was uniform, studying standard cognitive patterns might suffice to unravel our brain's mysteries. However, it’s anything but. Our diverse and unpredictable nature, grappling with ethical, social, and philosophical conundrums, necessitates incorporating impartial insights into our AI systems.

At Emory, I wish to navigate the future of technology through an unbiased lens. Under Professor Dr. Arbilly, I’ll study how the intersection of animal behavior, cognition, and evolution could inform the future of computing models. By pursuing linguistics in college, I’ll immerse myself in a liberal arts education to study the socio-cultural influences on our perception, thereby enriching AI solutions.

Supercharging civilization’s progress with a prudent heart (and mind), at Emory, I’ll seek to apply knowledge in the service of humanity.

Q 2. Reflect on a personal experience where you intentionally expanded your cultural awareness. 

It all started with a selfish plan to stuff my face with kebabs on Eid. 

Hailing a rickshaw to travel past the crowd, Old Delhi’s unique scent engulfed me. Rich kebabs’ tantalizing aroma clashed with heady rose-scented attar (“essential oils”) sweetening the air above. Horns, flutes, cowbells, chatter, barks, the azaan (“prayer call”). A rush of burnished yellows, prideful oranges and fiery reds.

Overwhelming—yet familiar.

Makeshift stalls led into intercrossing histories with each delectable bite. Melt-in-your-mouth galouti kebabs brought me face-to-face with the toothless Nawab who commissioned them; Lahori mutton taught me about India’s violent Partition; rogan-josh Kashmir’s fractious story.

Each recipe, passed from generation to generation, was a palimpsest of lost time. Accepting a cup of seviyan, it struck me: celebrations aren’t about a specific religion. It’s about simple camaraderie with the intent to celebrate. 

That day, I walked away with a full stomach, and a fuller heart.