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.
Alright, so I have to spell chabi. How do you write c in Oriya? Wait.. c
is not a letter. Then there must be a letter for ch Wait.no.no the letter is
cha. Ok, good.But, how do I write it? Oh yeah, there is a sideways eight.
Wait..nohold on.yes. Ok now a circle and a capital C over it, right?
A year earlier.
Wait for me, I shouted to my best friend, Jackson. I want to try that one
next. As we scampered and maneuvered ourselves among the crowd, we
reached our next ride at Six Flags. In the rides, though ephemeral, I found a
soothing, alleviating effect, which led me to a different universe. A universe where
I had a choice, where someone would listen to me, where I could do as I please.
This feeling of freedom was necessary to neutralize the feeling of confinement
engendered from my parents decision to relocate to India.
Ignorant of the dire financial circumstances, I pleaded desperately to my
parents to overturn their decision, but all my efforts were futile.
A month later, my flight landed in Orissa, thus officially sealing my fate. But
I was an alien. I was perplexed by the idea of street-corner food stalls. The
perpetual, shrill sound of car horns vexed me. It irked me to watch women in
saris, because I found them not suitable for the weather. It seemed like the TVs
showed only one thing: some esoteric sport involving a paddle and a ball. But my
problems got worse every time I heard people speak; I had heard Oriya in bits and
pieces, but never actually learned it.
Everything seemed new. During this time, I forged a strong friendship with
my grandfather. I fondly called him Aja. I would spend countless hours with him in
the Paathshala, a room specifically dedicated to studying. Here, Aja and I would
sit for hours, as he would teach me how to speak Oriya. We would watch old Oriya
movies and he would patiently define every word I did not understand. By
immersing myself in the language, my comprehension of Oriya improved
significantly over two months. Under his tutelage, I learned common customs of
the people of Orissa and managed to decipher the idiosyncrasies of Cricket.
During the evenings, we would saunter to local food stalls for a snack.
Within four months, I became acclimated to the Indian culture and I could
understand Oriya. But speaking Oriya was still troublesome. In Oriya there is both
a soft and hard d; however, the soft d is unaccounted for in English making it
extremely difficult to speak Oriya without sounding weird. My friends often
mocked my accent, as they were perhaps flabbergasted by how one could
struggle so much to speak a language. Exasperated by the mocking, I was
determined to succeed in the entrance exam for admission into D.A.V Public

School.
To prepare for the entrance, I needed to learn to write Oriya; my first look at
the alphabet signaled the daunting task in front of me. Unlike the mostly straight
shaped letters in English, the letters in Oriya were mostly curved and difficult to
write in one stroke. During this tough period, Aja set up a schedule of rote
memorization of Oriya word definitions and spellings. He would hold my hands
and guide them as I wrote certain letters of the alphabet. Sometimes, I would quit,
but he would coax me with offers of my favorite food and then he would explain
that determination is the only separating factor between something impossible
and something possible.
At the entrance a couple of months later, my thoughts were jumbled and I
had to follow extra steps to spell a word, but my methods were effective, as I
succeeded.
Just as I settled and assimilated into the Indian culture fully, my parents
made another bold move: they wanted to move back to America. This time, I was
stubborn and protested my parents decision. Eventually, I gave in and left my
home country again to settle in a foreign land.
Although I had studied English in India, my knowledge was still very
minimal. The concept of reading passages was foreign and I was ashamed of my
abstruse accent. The process of adaptation began again and I followed similar
steps to master English. Now when I tell someone I lived in India for six years,
they do not believe me since I have managed to rid myself of an accent. I had
succeeded in adapting to a different culture yet again.
These experiences have taught me to be more accepting of others
struggling with language as I have lived in their shoes already. When I
contemplate my life, I realize that the jumbled thoughts and sounds represent
modern life: there will be unexpected turns, changes can be frequent, and quick
adaption is the key to success.

Oriya and English are totally different worlds. I was frustrated while trying to
learn Oriya, since there are more sounds in it than English, and being fluent in
English did not help. For example, In Oriya there is both a soft and hard d;
however, the soft d is unaccounted for in English making it extremely difficult to
speak Oriya without sounding weird. My speech was often mocked by my
colleagues, as they seemed flabbergasted by how one could struggle so much to
learn a language. Exasperated by the mocking, I was determined to succeed in
the entrance exam for admission into D.A.V Public School.
To prepare for the exam, I followed a schedule of rote memorization of all
the letters of the Oriya alphabet. Every unsuccessful attempt at spelling a word
arrested further progress, since I got more and more discouraged. I declared
learning Oriya as impossible. Unlike the mostly straight shaped letters in English,
the letters in Oriya were mostly curved and difficult to write in one stroke.
Understanding my misery, my grandfather explained that determination is the
only factor separating something impossible from something possible. Following
his lead, I resumed my preparation for the test. As he would write letters, I would
emulate the letters in my unique way, developing an unorthodox way of writing

Oriya. This experience taught me the importance of patience and a calm

disposition during tough times. After all my hard work, I took the entrance exam
and made a perfect score in Oriya. The sweet taste of success after hard work set
an early precedent for me and I learned the importance of diligence.
Just as I settled and assimilated into the Indian culture fully, my parents
made another bold move: they wanted to move back to America. This time, I was
stubborn and protested my parents decision. Eventually, I gave in and left my
home country again to settle in a foreign land.
Although I had studied English in India, my knowledge was still very
minimal. The concept of reading passages was foreign and I was ashamed of my
abstruse accent. The process of adaptation began again and I followed similar
steps to master English. Now when I tell someone I lived in India for six years,
they do not believe me since I have managed to rid myself of an accent. I had
succeeded in adapting to a different culture yet again.
These experiences have taught me to be more accepting of others
struggling with language as I have lived in their shoes already. When I
contemplate my life, I realize that the jumbled thoughts and sounds represent
modern life: there will be unexpected turns, changes can be frequent, and quick
adaption is the key to success.

I was born in Monroe, North Carolina, just about a year after my parents immigrated to
America. Despite my Indian background, my parents wanted me to be totally immersed in American
culture; hence, I learned to speak only English. I was a devout Tarzan fan. I loved playing football. I
built memories at Chuck E Cheese's. Unfortunately, due to a sudden financial crisis, my parents moved
back to India in 2002.
My first step on Indian soil created a striking impression on me: the abject poverty, depraved
children, and lack of sanitation were astonishing. I first moved into my mother's house in her home
village, where I experienced something totally the opposite of America. I was introduced to life with an
extended family in one giant house. Privacy was non-existent. The climate was arid with no airconditioning. Just when I thought the blazing heat might be bearable with the fans, I learned that
electricity in the village was sporadic. Nevertheless, of all the challenges I faced, I had most trouble
with language.
Not only did I not know how to speak Oriya, but I also had to enroll in the village school where
everything was taught in Oriya. I was frustrated learning Oriya as there were more sounds in it than

English, and being fluent in English did not help. For example, in Oriya there is both a soft and hard
d; however, the soft d is unaccounted for in English making it extremely difficult to speak Oriya
without sounding weird. By the time I was seven, I could speak Oriya fluently enough to fit in among
my colleagues and just as I felt comfortable, I learned that I had to take an entrance exam (which
included writing Oriya) to earn admission into the school. Writing Oriya was even more torturous than
speaking it. Unlike the mostly straight shaped letters in English, the letters in Oriya were mostly curved
and difficult to write in one stroke. I dealt with frustration and a sense of hopelessness, since I had so
much difficulty, but through my mother's help, I kept pursuing mastery at writing Oriya. This
experience taught me the sheer importance of patience and a calm disposition during tough times. After
all my hard work, I took the entrance exam and made a perfect score in Oriya. The sweet taste of
success after hard work proved to me that hard work and determination are the keys to success.
During the next few years, I was completely assimilated with the general population of India
and considered it my home. Suddenly, my father proposed the idea of moving back to America and
everyone excluding me agreed; however, I was stubborn and refused to accept their decision.
Eventually, I left my home country for America under the pretense of a vacation. My parents proved
to be right: this really was a vacation. I suddenly felt like a prince. The freedom was obvious.
Delicacies in India were ordinary here. I could eat really good food all the time. I could always be in
air-conditioning. I could have my own computer. I could have privacy. It all felt like a dream. In an
instant, my fickle mind called America home.
Although we studied in English in India, we never mastered English. The concept of reading
passages was foreign and I was ashamed of my abstruse accent. Fortunately, I worked hard with a tutor
and managed to get rid of my accent. Now when I tell someone I lived in India for six years, they do
not believe me. I had succeeded in adapting to a different culture yet again. These experiences have
taught me to be more accepting of others struggling with language as I have lived in their shoes
already. When I contemplate my life, I realize that all these changes might have been harsh on me, but
they represent modern life: changes can be frequent and quick adaption is the key to success.