College Application Essays Part - 5

CHASING CALIFORNIA TO FIND RAIN

What would you say is your greatest talent or skill? How have you developed and demonstrated that talent over time?  

At four, I forged my earliest friendships with Aashu and Rohil. Pedaling furiously across Calvert Drive in Cupertino, Rohil and I smuggled snacks, while Aashu orchestrated top-secret Hot Wheel races.

In Hyderabad, Vansh and I always placed our water bottles side-by-side.

Moving again, Rhea, Abhie, and I bonded over beyblades and flipping water bottles (trying for them to land upright). Understandably, our teacher was less than thrilled with this naïvely concocted sport.

We spent our time debating wild facts, discussing video games, exploring mind-boggling books, and determining the ultimate pizza topping. Kindergarten friendships are comforting that way. Amid chalk dust and story circles, the silent vow of eternal friendship is forged.

Through these interactions, I’ve learned the importance of human connections. So when the pandemic separated people through masks and walls, I wondered: Will we resign to our fate?

Sanitizers and gloves had replaced handshakes and arm wrestles. But the problem went deeper than that. People felt alone, lonely, depressed. We’d been separated from people who cared for us the most. As with most of the world, my friendships grew strained.

I’m no horticulturist, but growing roots is hard. Refusing to accept this hand I’d been dealt, I built Terendipity. With over 2000 users, the platform has created space for teenagers to find an open ear and an open heart. Transcending geographic barriers, they could find others who shared their interests on sub-platforms, curated based on niche hobbies. I’ve noticed that we repress our thoughts so much that we surprise ourselves when our hearts get to speak freely--through the laughter and tears shared among trusted confidants. Through Terendipity and my own drive to forge affirmative, empowering communities, I hope others surprise themselves, too.

My art isn’t in machines or grandiose words, but in the silent, profound depths of human connections. To all the Rohils and Aashus and Rheas and Abhies--underneath it all, our roots still connect us. To be a true friend to them is my talent.

Think about an academic subject that inspires you. Describe how you have furthered this interest inside and/or outside of the classroom.

My preoccupation with the human brain started with my grandfather’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis in 2012. I relived similar experiences with family friends, whose children were born with autism and Down Syndrome. Desperately seeking to support my loved ones, I sought to understand their ailments.

My high-school chemistry curriculum revealed the brain’s biochemical constitution, highlighting how neurological functions (perception and learning) are governed by the transmission of nerve impulses. Piaget’s stages of cognitive development in AP Psychology exhibited the factors impacting human behavior and their cognitive underpinnings. Meanwhile, studying the McCulloch-Pitts computational neuron model introduced me to deep neural networks (called “perceptrons”) and how mathematical models could simulate neural processes. Upon recommendation from my seniors, I read Brian Christian’s “Algorithms to Live By” and soon surmised that computer science was the key to unlocking a more profound understanding of neuroscience.

Thereafter, over the summer, I volunteered at Blooming Words, a speech therapy and learning clinic for neurodivergent children. I shadowed and conducted interviews with medical practitioners and secondary caregivers to understand their pedagogical approaches to ABA therapy in an Indian setting. The results of my fieldwork were two-fold: while I discovered that neurodivergent students lacked a standardized curriculum, academic research on learning therapies catering to Asian audiences was also absent. After evaluating the potential of pairing standard Western learning therapies with bilingual and even bicultural modes of delivery, I published these insights in the Indian Journal of Psychology and was also invited to SciTech Neuro-Mental Health 2023. I then designed Project Daskalos to streamline my findings into a uniform lesson plan, making it accessible across Indian centers. This cross-platform Flutter app utilizes Firebase for authentication, incorporates a NoSQL database, and employs unofficial YouTube APIs for music therapy. With ESL flashcards for nonverbal communication, it equips caregivers with engaging tools for their children.

Collaborating with Professors from the University of Montreal, I’m currently researching the hyper-scanning Python pipeline for inter-brain connectivity analysis, which has the potential to unlock breakthroughs in how neurodivergent and neurotypical interactions can be enhanced for better communication. To understand, and to be understood, is universal.

What have you done to make your school or your community a better place?  (350 words

The strongest marker of happiness is a laugh. Next to it, a smile. Or that’s what the world would have us believe. A smile is our way of revealing how well life is treating us.

Young Utkarsh didn’t have a problem with this. I was able to, like all other kids, burst into giggles after Curious George took yet another banana from the Man-in-the-Yellow-Hat. However, my smile wasn’t good enough for “candid” Facebook posts. Too many teeth were shown. Wayyyyy too far were my lips outstretched. Was my expression out of tune with social expectations?

This is probably why I took up ventriloquism, where I infused my personality into my puppet Max. It became an avenue where I could bring out my “natural” smile, through deft linguistic improvisations and illusions. 

Grappling with the trials and tribulations of grins and grimaces, I found myself at a neurodivergent learning center. What drew me here was simple: it was a place where every individual’s unique manner of self-expression was celebrated. Selfishly, I thought, I might learn something, too.

And then I met Raghav. A five-year-old bundle of energy. Autistic children are said to have their brains’ connectomes “organized differently,” finding it challenging to express their feelings through speech. As a volunteer, I was to help Raghav grasp basic three-letter words through flashcards and puzzles. However, he remained…distant, much more interested in what was going on outside the window. I could sense we weren’t on the same wavelength.

So I decided to try something unconventional.

“ROOOOOAR!!” cried Max the lion. Infusing a sense of unadulterated joy and wonder, ventriloquism not only captured his wandering gaze, but also showed me what true happiness looked like. 

In Raghav’s wide pupils--absorbing everything--lay the evidence that he didn’t need speech or even his mouth to demonstrate how he felt. All it took was a sparkle in his eyes; when they met mine for a flicker of a second, I finally understood what a smile was really supposed to mean. 

That happiness doesn’t lie in our lips, it’s tucked away in our eyes.

Beyond what has already been shared in your application, what do you believe makes you a strong candidate for admissions to the University of California?

“Great! Now, Utkarsh, can you spell this?” asked my Cupertino kindergarten teacher, pointing at a clownfish.

Waddling up proudly to the center of the class with glitter-caked hands, I warmed up my vocal cords, and sang:

“PEEE--AYCHHH--EYEEE--ESSS--AYCHHH. Phish!”

I was really proud of having deduced the “ph--” usage.” In fact, I’d just heard it the previous night: “Pass the phish-phry, Utkarsh.”

However, the classroom erupted into laughter, while I stood there, scratching my head. Ms. Blossom chuckled politely. “Nice try! But it’s actually spelled F-I-S-H.”

[Morgan Freeman: Little did they know that where Utkarsh came from, this peculiar enunciation was only just the beginning. Hailing from Bihar, India’s poorest state, he’d inherited the vocabulary of mispronounced Anglo-Saxon words. And little did little Utkarsh know that when he’d return to India, his classmates’ innocent giggles would sour into judgmental derision.]

“Biharis are uncultured drunkards.”

“They can't even speak English properly.”

“Yeah, they steal our seats in the name of affirmative action.”

Then they turned toward me.

“Where are you from?”

I wasn’t aware that my culture--and my family’s geographical and socio-cultural markers--were things to be ashamed of. It wasn’t until my good friends at school warned me against being *too* honest about my identity, and the bad ones revealed why.

So, I’d lie, pretending the “litti-chokha” in my tiffin was bought, and not made at home: “I’m from Delhi. What about you?”

For years, I witnessed my parents unabashedly own their Bihari English, but I took time to gain courage. What changed was realizing that my silence was making me complicit in propagating prejudice. So, coalescing the sum of my experiences, choices, and thoughts through ventriloquism, I began performing “Phishing,” a humorous act illustrating the inferiority complex and cognitive dissonance I’d grown up with.

Every neuron and synapse I yearn to study echoes my glitter-caked desire to understand and be understood. At UC, I’ll demolish the walls of bias--of socio-economic stereotyping, of neurotypical modeling, and of culturally-blind diagnoses. From the rubble, I’ll rebuild a different world, where we transcend postcodes and stereotypes, and truly see each other for who we are.