Challenge 80: Prison Inmates

181. Should prison inmates be allowed to take college courses? Explain why or why not.

People go to prisons because they have done something wrong and need to be punished. There lies the classic debate of nature verses nurture. Were they made of bad material since birth or did the circumstance oblige them to act in a vicious way? Irregardless of their way of ending up in prisons, they are nonetheless humans. They make mistakes and they pay the price. However, even while they are prison, they should not be treated like filthy animals. There are still humans and they need the respect. Therefore, I think it is completely wrong to strip prison inmates of their basic right to education. Despite having committed crimes, they still have the right to an education. They should still be educated like any other person. And who knows? Maybe giving them an education is like giving them another chance in life, a chance to be better than before. Maybe they will be motivated by the fact that they can use this education to do something good in life, for their families, for theirs, a of course, for themselves. Maybe finding an education will change the way they view the world. Maybe they would want to earn a loaf of bread rather than steal one. Education can change their viewpoint. Ultimately, with this reasoning, we could have a better society and a better world. Criminals will come out of jail becoming new people because they have had the opportunity to learn about the world and about themselves. If they were did wrong things previously and did not wish for an education, in prison, by offering college courses, they would be obliged to take those lessons and make something out of it. They would learn of the world that is so different and better than their previous ones, and they may want to change their ways to become better people. Although there are a lot of "maybe's," unless we actually try educating prison inmates, we will never know what effects it will have. 

Challenge 61: The Silver Pen

55. Discuss an important personal relationship you have had and explain how it has changed your life.


I was introduced to it when I was in the fifth grade. It was a rather special event because I had never been allowed to use it previously: the ink pen. As silly as it seems, holding the ink pen for the first time in class was a glorious moment for me. The pen had a soft silver flow and tiny blue and yellow flowers decorated the length of the pen. As the year proceeded, so did my development in mastering the arts of writing in ink. It was difficult as first and I remember having to wash off plenty of ink from my fingers during the short breaks. I remember spilling it on the carpet at home once and earning a good scolding for doing so. I remember getting blue fingerprints on the pages of a precious school-owed book and having to stand outside class, my ears glowing pink with embarrassment and with my hands stretched upwards as a punishment. Those were the first impressions and I have to say, using the ink pen wasn't as "awesome" as I thought. However, the relationship with my white ink pen decorated in flowers strengthened as I grew more and more familiar with it. I would write pages after pages in the blue ink, hoping to perfect my writing and avoid smearing ink all over myself. My ink pen was different from others; some of them had rough covers, while others had a big, ugly chunk of steel as the lead. My precious pen was much tinier and much better and easier to work with. The lead of my pen was bend in a peculiar way and you had to tilt it just in the right angle to get the smooth effect. After I wrote something, I would silently watch the ink shine for some time and slowly sink into the tiny fibers of the papers. 
I wouldn't say that the relationship with my ink pen has changed my life entirely. However, it has taught me a few lessons about life and the way to live. You have to wait patiently sometimes for the best results to find their way. If you rush something, it might get destroyed. You have to take it slow, give it some thought, and really hope for the best. Secondly, not everything will go as planned. Not everything will be as smooth as you may imagine it to be. Things can turn out differently than you expect. And during that time, you shouldn't just tear out the paper and shove it in the bin. Instead, you have to learn to work around that blob of ink, find another way to make it work. Then only can you move on in life and really learn to complete the things you have set out to do. Despite these lessons, I lost my silver pen after I left for Woodstock. I have looked for it many times, but all I find are the fragments of lessons and encouragement the soft, silver pen has left for me. 

Challenge 79: Another me!

162. If you could invent something, what would it be, and why? (University of Virginia)

Obviously, I would invent something I need, something that will mean less work for me, and more time to just, as they say, "chill." I should invent something that should be useful. So, the best I can come up with is another me. Yes, I would invent another Bidushi. I know that things like cloning exist but inventing another me is different. I would ask whatever I want from the duplicate me without hurting her feelings. She will do exactly what I ask of her because she is me and she cares for me. Firstly, that would mean that I would get away from doing a lot of boring work, whether it be cleaning up my room or solving math problems. The second me could do all that work and make time for me to have fun. Secondly, I could really watch myself at work and observe what I look like when I am intensely memorizing facts for the next exam or listening to music and doing to art work. I could admire myself. Thirdly, having another me would also mean that I would be able to be in two places at once and confuse people! They would wonder how I could have attended that meeting but also have had a long conversation with my friends. It would be fun to watch people think that they’re crazy by tricking them. Fourthly, it would feel absolutely great to go against all the rules of nature. It would feel amazing to counter all that scientists and theorists have come up with since the beginning of time. Fifthly, I could send my other self on a mission to Mars or something that incredible.

I think that these are enough reasons for me to invent another me. I could get away from work I don’t enjoy doing, I could observe myself to see what I look like when I’m working, I could trick people, I could go against the law of nature, and I could send myself to Mars!

(I'm sorry but this one is a rather careless one. In my defense, I am half asleep.)

Challenge 78: Lead Role

111. Imagine yourself being an actor/actress. Tell about your feelings before the opening night of the performance where you play the title role.

Everything feels to be passing in slow motion. My make-up artist is working over my face, applying the last-minute things before I appear on stage. I feel nauseous and there is a heavy load slowly building up at my chest. I try to smile away my discomfort, but it refuses to budge. I can see the eyes of the other actors; they are all excited and prepared. I feel a little jealous; I am not that confident even though I have more to speak. I should have never agreed to play the lead role. But it's too late. I can't back out now. I thought that it would be easier, though. I mean, there is just an excited audience behind that curtain and I just have to do my level best to please them, to make them stand up on their feet, and clap their hands together with admiration. Shouldn't be so hard, should it? Ah, the feeling is eating up my insides. I can't stand it no more. I feel like I have to throw up. Gosh, I wish this would go away. 

Maybe I should think about something else, something more soothing and calming. After all, that's what the director had suggested and she sure knows me well. Think about something happy, something funny. Oh, yeah, there was that time we went to the beach. Wait, what happened then? The beach. The beach. The beach... oh yeah, somebody fell into the water and we laughed. Was that all? Ah, this nauseating feeling is so frustrating. I cannot make it go away. 

I wish he would stop dabbing so much glitter on my face. It makes me look like a pampered princess. How is all that make-up supposed to hide the feelings I feel right now? Goodness, who hired him? Wow, is that the director signalling me. Yep, now is you time to shine, Bidushi! Yeah, great, thanks for the little push, Mr. Glitter-...Guy! Smile now, smile. Aw, my stomach feels so tight. I need to have some water. God, why do I need all this right now?

Okay. Now the show will begin. Right. I've gathered myself together and now, I'm going to put up an excellent show. That's it. I'm at the center of the stage. The curtains are lifting. Smile and let the performance begin!

Challenge 77: Improvisation

Modern improvisational comedy originated in Hyde Park on the campus of the University of Chicago with the Compass Players. Some of the Players went on to form the Second City comedy troupe, precursor to the Saturday Night Live show on TV. With this essay option we invite you to test your own improvisational powers by putting together a story, play, or dialogue that meets all of the following requirements:
A. You must begin with the sentence, “Many years later, he remembered his first experience with ice.”
B. All five senses—sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell—have to figure in the plot.
C. You have to mention the University of Chicago, but please, no accounts of erstwhile high school students applying to the University—this is fiction, not autobiography.
D. These items must be included: a new pair of socks, a historical landmark, a spork (the combination of spoon and fork frequently seen among airline flatware), a domesticated animal, and the complete works of William Shakespeare. Have fun, and try to keep your brilliance and wit to three pages max. (U of Chicago)

“Many years later, he remembered his first experience with ice,” said Peter. He turned around only to find that there was nobody listening to him anymore. Sure, the audience had been fairly large when he first started with the story, but by now, there was just a dog looking at him hungrily and waging its tail. He threw at it the remains of the bun in his hands. The dog gave a joyful yelp and jogged away, waging its tail happily. Great, Peter thought, even the dog doesn’t want to be with me.

Peter had always been told by those elder than him that his skills of storytelling were unlike what they’d heard before. This boosted his confidence, and he thought that maybe he could use this talent to fill his pockets. After all, the university he was applying for was no joke: The University of Chicago. Now, after his first attempt turning out to be utterly disappointing, the University felt like a distant dream.

Anyhow, he gathered up his belongings and the remaining of his disappointment and headed home. Living in the beautiful city, he had always loved walking whenever he could. He loved observing people and studying them; it definitely helped him with his storytelling. He was so brilliant that he could thread out wonderful stories of as simple a case as the woman sitting in the cafe with a cup of coffee or a bookstore with a portrait of Shakespeare on the door and, predictably, the inside filled with the complete works of Shakespeare.

As he passed the big Bo-tree two blocks away from his home, he noticed something had changed. Being a quick observer, he realized that they had placed a new bench just underneath the tree. He always thought that there ought to be one right there; it just seemed like the perfect setting. Tempted, he thought, Why not spend a few moments here. After all, I don’t have a place to go and tell stories, he thought sarcastically.

The bench was empty and there seemed to be nobody around. He threw his bag pack on the ground next to him and lazily flopped onto the seat. It sure did feel new. The surface was smooth and safe from uncomfortable bulges. The backrest felt perfect. His body quickly absorbed the coolness of the bench to calm his heated body down. A short laugh escaped his lips as he thought about the events of the day. Maybe, he thought, I dream too much.

He lay there for a few moments, his arms outstretched and his feet dangling, taking in the calmness of his surroundings. He listened to the distant roaring of the engines of so many vehicles. He heard the ruffled footsteps of the passer-bys as they rushed to another place they had to be, another meeting they had to attend, another part of their life that was so important. Why hadn’t he such a busy life? He was only a student, but still, he felt like he had too much time in his hands nowadays. No matter, he thought, I’m sure I will also be viciously sucked into that cycle of what they call “professional” life. Running from place to place, from people to people, all to make some more money? Is that how life was meant to be?

As the weather started cooling down and the sun started making way for the stars, he left the thoughts behind and continued his way back home. The cool breeze blew at his face, ruffling his hair, and pushing him backwards. But he continued walking, against the incredible force, until he was at his doorstep. Through the thick glass of his door, he saw that somebody was already inside, and from the smell of baked goods and roasted chicken, he could tell that it was his grandmother. She had promised him a visit after her year-round trip.  Carelessly shoving the keys back on the inside of his jacket, he knocked on the door. From the other side, he heard the a big bang, which sounded like a pan had fell to the floor, rushed footsteps, clanking of keys, and finally, the clicking of the door. There stood his grandmother, clad in her nightgown, a thick, red sweater, and a wise smile. She leaned towards him and hugged him.

“Grandmother!” he said. “It’s so great to see you!”

“It’s lovely to see you too, son,” she replied gleefully, freeing him from a warm hug.

After that he let her talk. She was a talkative woman and it was always best not to interrupt her. She could talk on for days of the things she was excited about. Her eyes would tinkle, her thin lips would form a smile, and her hands would try to paint the pictures of her mind into thin air. It was amazing to watch. 

From the moment he had entered the house to the time he had fallen asleep, he had learned a great many things. From learning of the beauty of the Eiffel Tower at night to the smelly, Indian feet in Taj Mahal, he heard it all. He had heard how little the pair of woolen socks was of use in the cold winter in Finland and how shiny the spork was in the Germanwings Airlines. But the best part was that his grandmother had patiently listened as he used his extraordinary storytelling to tell her the story he had recited earlier that day. She smiled throughout, nodding that she had understood, and proudly clapping her hands when he had finished. The last of his thoughts before he fell asleep were that perhaps there was still chance, a chance that his storytelling could survive.

Challenge 76: Ugly, Yellow Table

67. At a crucial point in his career, the African-American writer James Baldwin withdrew to a secluded spot in the Swiss Alps. “There,” he later wrote, “in that absolute alabaster landscape, armed with two Bessie Smith records and a typewriter, I began to try to recreate the life that I had first known as a child and from which I had spent so many years in flight … It was Bessie Smith, through her tone and her cadence, who helped me to dig back to the way I myself must have spoken…and to remember the things I had heard and seen and felt. I had buried them very deep.” Inevitable, certain things—songs, household objects, familiar smells—bring us instantly back to some past moment in our lives. Start an essay by describing one such thing and see where it takes you. (University of Chicago)

It is extremely short and doesn't even come up to your knees. If you don't watch your step, you might bang your shins against it, and believe me, although it is round, it is going to hurt. The legs are short and poorly carved out. The color is a rather ugly yellow with tiny, brown stripes, and there are points at which it has worn off to expose the rusty nails. The brown lining shines beautifully against the light, and I think that is the sole part that looks presentable. I cannot remember how long we have had that short, round table. We never get rid of it because it comes handy at one point or another.

***

My first memory of the table dates back to 2002. The T.V. is barging in the background with the singing of little elephants on a birthday party. My mother is not around and it's just my sister and me together. We turn the T.V off. Carelessly, we look through our cardboard box of toys to find the chalk that my mother bought so long ago. Finding the chalk, we head back to the table and flip it so that it's on it's head. We sit on the back and draw with the chalk. We make a big flower covering the whole of the back and draw little starts around. 

I take glance underneath the table and there, I still see the flower my sister and I made ten years ago! It is a little faded and worn out, but it still brings back the memories.

***

We are bored. We wait for our tuition teacher to arrive. He is late than usual. Both of us are ready with our books and everything set on the table. When it gets too much, my sister gets up and brings the page of stickers we just bought. I don't remember what those stickers bore, but I think some sort of a celebrity. We stuck it on the table and laughed. But once the tuition teacher comes and we are engrossed in the math problems, his fingers pick the sticker out unconsciously. There is nothing left but the scar of what had been a colorful sticker. Over the years, that white patch has turned a blackish brown color.

***

The shelf is too high for me to reach. I really that little statue of a girl. I want to bring it to my room and keep it. I stand on my toes and still can't reach it. I get frustrated. I look around. I see the table. It is a perfect stepping stone. I drag it to the shelf. With the innocence of a child, I step on the edge. The table isn't balance and can't hold my weight. It tilts my way and I fall. I sit there crying and hitting the table.

***

It has been quite some time since I've seen the table. And I know exactly why. It is hidden underneath the mountains of books in my father's study room. He doesn't like it when we enter the room, even if it is my mother. I can understand why. It is frustrating when you find that things have magically been displaced since your last return. I can see that the table is not of much use to him except for holding the books. Dust has covered some of the little exposed surface of the table. It is amazing how much the table can hold. I quickly find the book I'm looking for and leave the room.

***

I had returned from school. I need to study for the SAT. I ask my father for the table because it is the perfect height for sitting and working. He hesitates, but realizing it couldn't be of more use than that, he nods. I roll is away quietly and carry it myself up to my room. I place it on the carpet on the floor. Something looks wrong. It isn't coherent with the rest of the room which consists of newer furniture. Still, it serves its purpose. 

Challenge 75: Clarinet

63. Discuss an activity, interest, experience, or achievement in your life (this could be a book, movie, or an activity or experience at work, home, or at school) that has been particularly meaningful for you. (University of Florida)

When I first took up clarinet almost five years ago, I didn't have the mind to continue playing it in high school. I took clarinet because I couldn't blow into the trumpet, couldn't make a sound through the flute, and couldn't even properly hold the trombone. However, when I took hold of the clarinet for the first time, I instantly knew that this was what I was going to settle for, as dramatic as that sounds. When I first blew through it, I created a beautiful G sound, according to the teacher, Mrs. Hugg, who told me that the clarinet was the best option. 

From then, I started playing the clarinet. As a beginner, I don't even have a count of how many reeds I broke. But,I kept playing, and being exposed to an instrument for the first time, I really enjoyed it. It was the beginning of a new part of my life, a new part of me. I was starting something that was previously foreign to me, just like learning a new language. It was challenging but by accepting that challenge, I made it a significant part of me. Although I had a hard time with little musical things like creating a perfect tone throughout and remembering my scales, I played it for five years happily. There were times when I really wanted to quit it because I got sick of playing the clarinet. However, I didn't quit because I thought I might as well perfect it as much as I could while I was still in high school.

I don't know if I will keep playing even after I have left high school. I don't know if I will even minor in music. Although I enjoy playing it, I think that there will come a time when I will just have to give it up. However, choosing to play the clarinet for six years was a good decision. It helped me take a break from school and let me play music that I had heard of. It was a good experience, and even if it was just for a few years, clarinet because a significant part of my identity. 

Challenge 74: Religion

36. Select any issue that is of importance to you and discuss your views. (New College of University of South Florida)

On my recent visit to the renowned Pashupati Nath Temple, I observed a few crucial things. One, there is this big stone just off the railing of the temple and you have throw coins at it. If you manage to make the coin stay at the surface, then you get to make a wish and it will come true. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it to stay. Second, I noticed the amount of people that come to the temple to pray. Devotees all the way from isolated corners of Nepal to visitors from India, there were countless people. I thought about how much religion means to them. I thought about how they have traveled long and far to reach the temple in order to offer their prayers. They call themselves devoted Hindus. 

To me, their dedication makes me feel two different things. One is that I feel a certain kind of respect for people who are so devoted to god, whether it be a Christian god or a Hindu god or anything else for that matter. Regardless of what religion they follow, I admire their faith and their capacity to believe in something greater than humans. But, at the same time, there are certain religious people who anger me. They are very religious, following traditions and all the ways of their culture. But, when it comes to doing something moral, they turn their backs. If a charity organization comes at their doorsteps asking for a little money, these people shoo them off and shut the door on their faces. If there is a question about sparing a few coins for a beggar, they quickly walk off avoiding any kind of contact. Is this also what their religion teaches them? To turn their backs of helpless situations? If people really want to do good in life, they will not achieve this goal by just praying all day long or chanting in the temples. They have to actually go out and go something good for the world. Then only will their religion and faith account for something. 

Challenge 73: Telepathy

21. If you had the gift of telepathy, the ability to read other people’s minds, would you use this gift or not? Explain. (Middle East Technical University/93)

There have been several moments in my life when all I wanted really at that point was to read the other person's mind. The situation made it so that I could not tell at all what she was thinking. I wanted to know so badly what was going through her mind when she said those words. But now, I think that I was better off not knowing what she was thinking. Telepathy would be a useful tool in vital situations, as in the case of Edward Cullen for all those Twilight fans. However, reading other people's mind is like going through their stuff: it's offensive. Reading other people's mind is invading their privacy. There must be something that the person has in her mind that she doesn't want you to know and there must be a reason for that. And if you read her mind out of curiosity, you are not respecting her or her thoughts. There are some things that are buried deep inside my mind which I try not to think about. I don't want people to know these thoughts and these feelings because they are private. I would feel betrayed and disappointed if somebody tried to read these thoughts. And I imagine it will be the same for many people. There are some things that others shouldn't know and it’s better left that way. People talk about how they could do childish things with this gift if it existed, like cheating in exams or winning a heated argument. However, they fail to realize that this kind of dishonesty will not carve out their success in life.

I refuse to believe that I am the kind of person who will manipulate power. But, we don’t know what we are made of until the situation presents itself, until our characters are tested. So, another reason I wouldn’t use the gift of telepathy is because this gift may unleash the worst within me. 

Challenge 72: Invention the World is Better off Without

18. What invention would the world be better off without, and why? (Kalamazoo)

On one hand are my parents. They tell us great stories from their past, stories about falling off a rickshaw in old Birgunj to climbing up trees in the large fields. My mother tells me about how she and her sisters used to dress up in costumes to take pictures. My father tells me of the things he used to do in school, like sneaking away from the sleeping professor and going out to play in the fields and ponds. He tell me how he got his first calculator only after he went to Delhi University. When I hear them say these stories, I see the long-ago-in-my-days look in both of their eyes. 

And on another hand is my brother. I will exquisitely tell you his story. He is just four but knows how to play the games in my iPod Touch. He can find the music library on my father's cell phone and play the music. He knows how to draw on "Paint" on my computer. He knows where to press on the remote control to get the channel he wants: Cartoon Network. And there, he spends hours and hours (until the electricity is not out anyway), watching cartoons, when the sun is shining beautifully outside and the birds are chirping harmoniously.

I think one can make out the difference between the two generations. One was filled with physically active activities that took absolute advantage of the beautiful surroundings while the other is mostly based around electronics. Therefore, I think that the world is better off without some electronics, electronics that take up recreation times. I know of the great wonders that the new generation of electronics has to offer, from internet at every bend of life to the usefulness of touch screen. However, maybe if there weren't so many electronics to take up our time, our lives would be spent in a much healthier way. Instead of sitting with an iPod for hours on end and slashing fruits, my brother, and other children of the same age, could be out under the sun chasing the dog or playing with the mud. Instead of me hanging onto my computer all day, I could be practicing my music or reading a good book. But what has been invented cannot be ... un-invented. Therefore, I think all we can do right now is just manage our time in such a way that we give ourselves enough time to be out breathing fresh air and enjoying the sunshine.

Challenge 71: Neighborhood

12. Tell us about the neighborhood that you grew up in and how it helped shape you into the kind of person you are today. (Yale and the University of Chicago)

 Born and raised in Kathmandu, I always found the view of the dusty city and the uneven houses comforting and familiar whenever I flew back home from school. The distant Himalaya that the hostesses always mentioned as we descended were nothing more than a distant view for me as well. I had always been inside the premises of the valley and seldom left it for any other part of the country. When I was a little girl, I wanted our family to move to the hill stations I used to visit as a child: Godawari and Nagarkot. However, that was always left as a desire and the city really managed to bind itself to the first twelve years of my life.

When I was little, we moved a lot. My father had his job abroad and my mother, my sister, and I used to live at a rented house. There is a picture that keeps flashing back into my mind when I think of that place: I am cutting my seventh birthday cake and my cousins are all eagerly waiting for some cake. I have a "Hello Kitty" jacket on, the same one by sister wore after me and then my brother. That was some eleven years ago. My cousins all had their houses in the same street and that meant a lot of family-bonding time. As an individual, I think that helped me establish a strong relationship with them and conserve them, even as a child.

From there, we moved to another flat while our house was being built. The neighborhood was a silent one. There are just a few memories that pop up when I think of those times. During one Holi festival, I remember we threw a bucket full of water at a passer-by. He was so angry that he swore even to children. We laughed our heads off. That particular experience probably taught me that there were some grumpy people around that you just had to ignore. Another good memory was when I first learned to ride a bicycle. Although it was a four-wheeler, I was immensely proud when I could ride it around with just one hand on the handle. I remember receiving compliments from my neighbors and feeling high and mighty. Even though it only lasted for a few days, that experience helped me gain confidence in myself by trusting my abilities.

Our house was built by 2003 and we moved in. This neighborhood was a rather noisier one than our family preferred, but we learned to adjust. There is a big field right in front of the house. The sun shines beautifully through our window. I get to make the most of it during winter. The neighbors are usually kind people, although they anger me from time to time because of their irrational thinking. However, I have learned to not blame them for their thinking and rather, try to improve the situation. Other than that, I think that the neighborhoods I grew up in definately gave me some qualities that have grown in me. 

Challenge 70: "Hell is other people"

32. Sartre said, “Hell is other people,” while Streisand sang, “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” With whom do you agree? (Amherst)

First when I read this question, I thought the latter would definitely represent my views. But then, I thought again. Yes, we say that humans definitely cannot live alone in this world, without any family or friends. However, first, I think we need to know what hell is. According to religious books, hell is a place where people who are sinful go. They have wronged in this world and therefore, they must suffer in their afterlives. Contrary to heaven, hell makes us think of fire and devils and emotions like anger and pain and disappointed. However, where do all of these sins and negative feelings come from? Why do people get angry? Why do people feel pain?

I remember once when I had fought with a very close friend of mine. I had called my mom, crying and complaining that I didn't know what I had done wrong for things to end this way. My mother comforted me and said that as kids, these things are going to happen. You are going to get into a fight with somebody not knowing what you have done to disappointment her. And that's why, she said, instead of keeping just a few really close friends, you need to have a wider circle of friends so that when you do get into a fight with one, it won't hurt as much because you aren't particularly close with her. That... made sense. If I didn't have close friends, then these words wouldn't sting. I wouldn't be bothered about what they've said because they don't mean so much to me. And if they didn't mean so much to me, I wouldn't let their words play with my emotions. I wouldn't let them hurt my feelings so that I became angry and pained.

Therefore, I agree with Sartre. The words speak the bitter truth. Hell is other people because of the relationship we share with them. They inflict upon us the pain, the disappointment, and ultimately, they would lead us to have black spots in our hearts, like seeking for revenge. If we don't have strong bonds with other people, then they bitter words would not effect our feelings or actions. 

Challenge 69: Fifteen Minutes

7. It has been said [by Andy Warhol] that “in the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” Describe your fifteen minutes. (New York University)

My heart will be pounding. My cheeks would be burning. There would be a permanent smile playing at my lips. My eyes will be watering because of all the emotions flowing inside of me: joy and happiness, and a little shock at the current situation. My hands would be shaking from excitement. I wouldn't be able to keep my legs from fidgeting. My head would be held high because I am proud and confident and satisfied. What would I be famous for? Saving the whole world? No, nothing so huge. I would be famous for something I have done that had made a positive difference in someone else's life. I would be called for a talk show or a radio station of some kind to share what I have done with the whole world. I would deliver a positive message to everybody who is watching. I would tell people how much this little action has helped somebody else’s life. I would teach people that they can also do little things, make a small change in their lives in order to help others. I would tell these people to spread the message. I would tell my listeners to be better people, better humans. Everyone would be thoroughly impressed and inspired by me. They will take immediate actions. They will confidently talk about how they themselves are capable of brining such a change into this world. They will say that she did it, so why can’t we? And, even after the fifteen minutes of fame are over, people will still follow my words and do what I asked of them. They will continue to change things in their lives for the better. My words will have a lasting impression on all these people, long after I have been removed from the spotlight. 

Challenge 68: Sherlock Holmes

17. If you could spend a year with any real or fictional person in the past, present, or future, whom would you choose? Why? (Kalamazoo College/93)

Even as a kid, I loved mystery and ghost stories, especially the ones that ended with "although everything went back to normal, they still heard those bangles cling together from time to time." Oh, the tug I felt in my gut during those times. I used to curl up in the arms of my father as he told us the stories with a voice so deep and soft that it seemed to bring every aspect of the story to life. Those were wonderful moments! Other than listening to these stories, I loved reading them. I would read aloud the descriptions of the tall figure lurking behind the curtain or the black cat that seldom moved. I would read aloud dialogues and try to imagine what the rough, deep voice must have sounded. Mystery novels were attractive too; I would patiently wait in anticipation till the end to find out the explanations of all that didn't make sense. I would try and guess what the story was. I started watching T.V. series too about a homicide cop and how she discovers the story behind each murder. Then, recently, when I got hold of a mystery novel that I heard so much about from a friend, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I didn't hesitate once before diving into the stories. There were absolutely great! The shrewdness and the intelligence with which Holmes unearthed all the cases were absolutely breathtaking. The way he could recite the story of the person standing before him by just observing his clothes or whatever was mind blowing! Reading the book made me want to be part of the stories. I wanted to be alongside of Sherlock Holmes as he discovered clue after clue and finally connected the whole story. I wanted to travel to places alongside this extraordinary thinker to unearth the details.  I wanted to be part of his adventures,  kind of like how Dr. Watson was. I wanted to go inside his head and see how he thought things through and how he managed to connect the pieces and break the case. Therefore, if I could spend a year, a week, a day, or even a few minutes with any fictional character, it would definitely  be Sherlock Holmes.

Challenge 67: A Novel

48. Name one book you have read in the past year, describe your reason for considering this book significant and what you gained from reading it. (Lewis and Clark College)

I thought I wouldn't read it when I checked it out from the library for the holidays, but just two or three weeks later, I found myself deeply engrossed in the adventurous world of these two girls. I finished the novel in just three days. The name? Well, you may know of it: Shanghai Girls. The book is about, well, two sisters from "modern" Shanghai in the first half of the nineteenth century (around 1940s). After a surprising turn of events, the girls are forced to retire from their exquisite and wealthy lives in the Paris of Asia and flee to the West where they are married off to strangers and have to adjust to the poverty and discrimination they face in their new home: Chinatown. The significance of this novel is fabricated within the main theme, and that is the deep bond between the sisters. It fascinates me to read about how they went through the worst that life has to offer, and yet, they survived, only because they had each other to rely on. There are many situations that are so extreme and so difficult that it almost led me to believe that the ties between the two were finally going to break. However, I was proved wrong when, again, with their determination and confidence, they overcome the situation and move forward. By reading this book, I gathered a better idea about what life was like during the times of war for an immigrant. I learned about the limits people reached just in order to keep on living a life. I learned about what discrimination was like to Chinese immigrants and how this severely effected their lives, whether it be not getting an education in a standard English-speaking school because of their nationality or whether it be being sued by American officers for reading a communism-based newspaper. Also, the strong relationship that the two sisters shared made me think about the relationship with my own sister. At home, we constantly get into little arguments that leaves the both of us frustrated and irritated at each other. But, at the end of the day, we sit side by side, yanking out each other's hair and teasing each other, while still making the best of what this sisterly relationship has to offer. 

Challenge 66: Observed

236. What are some of the things you observed today?

- A walk just for half an hour in the afternoon can prove to be very productive. It can teach an individual a great many things.

- The grocery store is just fifteen minutes away but it takes longer to get there if you are registering your surroundings with this essay in mind or if you are walking with your grandmother.

- People stare, especially people in Nepal. What is their problem anyway? Haven't they seen a grandmother with her two grandchildren take a walk in the afternoon? What's so different about that? But, it may also have been the big, blue jacket or the green crocs that drew their eyes towards us.

- I observed a group of old me playing chess under the sun. I didn't know it was so popular in Nepal, but I saw two groups of men intensely engrossed in the game. (When I saw a third group of men huddled together, I stretched out my neck to see if they were playing chess too. They weren't. It was carom, or what I used to play a long, long time ago.)

- A dead puppy was thrown on the sidewalks of the road. It was a pitiful sight. Its body was stretched in the shape of a crescent moon as if searching for sunlight. However, there was just an old, dusty wall on one side and a concrete road on another. I didn’t know what to do. When I got back home, I called my sister, who is a social worker also, and asked her what I could do about it. She said there was nothing I could, and that the people who collect trash will take care of it. What hopelessness!

- I saw a couple of young monks riding bicycles down the empty road. It reminded me of times when there were strikes and the whole country was shut down. Then, my sister, my father, and I used to cycle to the outskirts of the little city. We’d go as far as we could, until below the only international airport, and turn back around and race back home. Great times were those.

- I noticed a purple kite hanging against the wall of a shop, gently swaying with the breeze. Again, it brought back great memories of the times when I actually flew kites with my cousin brother. He would give the kite attached to a long string a tug and make it go soaring up in the sky. After it held a safe position, he would hand me the string and show me moves to make the kite do little tricks. But after that, the wind stopped blowing, and my cousin brother went abroad to complete his studies.

- We walk past a Tibetan restaurant where there is a long blue cloth with decorated white patterns on the door. Outside, on the foot of the door, there is a black dog. He looks at me curiously as I walk past. I wonder for a second if that is Sirius Black. But then again, it couldn’t be.

-

Challenge 65: Good and Bad

94. Choose one of the following topics about which you would like to write: your family, friends, or another person who has influenced you, the best and worst features of your secondary school, a recent development in your community, a scientific or other problem which you would like to solve, travel or living experiences in other.

Secondary School. High School. What great years. I struggled but I enjoyed them too. I made great friendships and got to keep them. I learned on a much advanced level than I did in middle school. I figured out what I want to become in life. I started blogging! I learned to struggle, whether it be staying up till two to finish my work or whether it be dealing with arguments. I developed a more positive personality. I made some excellent memories. I learned to choose the right things and make out right from wrong. I read many books! I got used to walking for at least twenty minutes every day. I learned to work hard to earn the grades I deserved. I learned to try and fail at some things. I became more comfortable with public speaking (more than before anyway). I learned to manage and organize my time. I took art classes. I joined the soccer team, although one year was enough for me to figure out that I was not made for soccer. I started doing more CARE activities than in middle school. I started to follow the news much often. I got along with my teachers as well as I could. I learned new things every day, whether it be about my friends or new material covered in class. I started to like math although I had preferred other subjects previously.

However, other things were not so pleasant. I had to deal with bad school food. I lost some of the friendships I made. I struggled with the work load sometimes. I started to lose my temper easily. I started getting distracted sometimes. But overall, I think it has been a great two and a half years in high school that I will miss a lot. 

Challenge 64: Deforestation

180. If you could ban anything in the world, what would it be and why?

When I came back home this time from my semester at school, I noticed something had changed. As we drove down the hill, there seemed to be more... light. I couldn't put my finger on it but it looked as if some big buildings had been sucked right into the ground. Then I realized. It was not the buildings but the trees that were gone, the tress that had been standing for maybe two hundred years or so. Just like that, they were gone from sight. Disappeared. Poof. There was nothing left in their places except for more space for the road to be widened. It was sad and frustrating.

Therefore, if I had the power to ban anything in the world, I would ban people from cutting down big trees that have stood there for generations. I would ban people from cutting down large chunks of forests that are essential for the animals that live there. I would ban people to clear large forest areas to build livestock productions. Unless it is absolutely necessary or the existence of humanity depends on it, I would ban people from deforestation. And the reasons for banning people from cutting tress are fairly simple. First, there is the global warming problem. A lot of the deforestation that takes place is hurting the forests that are essential for our survival because they provide us with large amounts of oxygen and absorb the unnecessary carbon dioxide from the air. Secondly, deforestation means pushing some of the most extraordinary creatures who rely on the forest for an ideal habitat off the verge of extinction. Some of these creatures are yet to be explored and learned more about. But if deforestation continues then humanity will never know the beauty of these creatures. The generations to come will never witness an Indian Tiger in its natural habitat or dolphins swimming to the surface of the sea. Do we really want to destroy the world in such a way?  

Challenge 63: A Bad Dream

242. Describe a recurring dream.

I'm falling. I don't know if it is from a cliff or just from my bed. But it happens. Again and again. I fall and fall, into darkness, into nothingness. There is nobody around me. It is all dark and black. I'm not even sure if there is a sky above me or if there is a ground that I will eventually meet. I am unsure. I cannot smell anything or taste anything. It is frustrating to not know what is happening. I do not see my hands and feet. I'm not even sure if it is me falling. Or maybe I am just watching somebody else fall. No, but I do feel something and it is sickening. I don't know why I even remember that feeling. I have only jumped once from a cliff and that took so much courage. I thought that feeling had already disappeared into my busy life. But it comes out in that dream, that feeling. It is the worst of all. I feel like my heart has jumped into my throat. I feel like my stomach has taken my heart's place. I feel like all the organs inside my body are displaced and malfunctioning. I feel like there is going to be no ending to this feeling. Oh, how badly I wish someone would catch me, hold my hands, and pull me back upwards. Then, I wake up all of a sudden. I find myself gripping the side of my bed, my hands sweaty and arms tired. I do not know what has happened, but waking up from the dream, I feel safe and reassured. No, it’s not the end of the world. I smile to myself and try to fall back asleep. I think to myself. Maybe this dream means something. Maybe it’s showing me how bad things can get. Maybe it’s telling me to keep looking for something, searching for something to rescue me. Maybe it wants me to know that familiar things can disappear and I might get lost. However, I just have to find my way back. Maybe it’s telling me that in the midst of nothingness, there is still a hope, a hope of waking up. But, on the other hand, it could just be a bad dream. 

Challenge 62: Ama

206. What makes your dad or mom special

If I remember correctly, I was in the fourth grade when it happened. I wasn't prepared for it and neither was my sister. It was just another rushed morning where I tried to gobble up the food before the school bus came to pick us up. If it wasn't for the super sensitive taste buds, I would have never guessed.

But it did happen. As always, I woke up that morning just twenty minutes before my school bus arrived. In a hurry, I washed, brushed, changed, packed my bag, and headed down for breakfast with my sister following close behind. I couldn't find matching socks to wear and that left me frustrated and close to tears (I start to cry when I panic- old habit). Just ten minutes before leaving for school, I was sitting in the kitchen with the breakfast steaming in front of me. As I come from a typical Nepali family, sitting on my plate were rice, lentils, spinach, and some cauliflower mixed together. Because of the cold season, my mother had added some ghee in the rice. Or so she thought. 


As my helper came running down the steps with the matching pair of socks in one hand and the polished black shoes in another, my mother fed me the first bite. Unlike other mornings, it tasted different. It tasted sweet when it shouldn't have. I knew something was wrong, and by the looks of my sister, she knew as well. I looked at my mother as muffled words of protest struggled to escape my mouth. She looked at me, irritated, and told me to hurry up and eat. I tried again, but she got angrier and annoyed. She told me to stop complaining and finish my food quickly before the bus arrived.


Tears streaming down my face, I struggled to finish the food on my plate. Then, I was rushed to the school bus which had been sitting on the road and honking for a couple of minutes. And, by lunch time, I had forgotten all about what had happened earlier. As school got over and I climbed on the bus along with the receptionist at school. She saw me, recognized me, and told me that my mother had called earlier for me. Since I was attending class, I wasn't informed. Wondering why she had called, I took my place at the back of the bus and got lost in some conversations.


As I took off my shoes when I entered the house, my mother rushed to me. I asked her why she had called school, to which she replied that she had called to apologize. Instead of the ghee that was supposed to be in the rice, she had mistakenly added honey! We shared a laugh together and that was left as that. 


I believe this story best explains why my mom is like. She is fast, organized, quick to register things. She loves her children, her home, her family. She is responsible and respectful. She knows she has to take care of the house and is occasionally burdened by that fact. But, she gives it her very best. However, the factor that makes her most special is that she gives respect to everybody and anybody. She doesn't hesitate even once before apologizing for making a mistake, whether it is to an elderly person or her own children. 

Challenge 60: Disappointment

215. A disappointment you've experienced

It was yet another warm day in the summer of 2003. It was Saturday and we, my sister and I, were bored. We wanted to do something fun, just to take away the lingering silence in the room due to the recent departure of my father to Cambodia. Ama was in the kitchen, preparing our lunch as we sat in the bedroom. Then, my sister had an idea.

There are some things that you used to do as a child that now you are not so proud of. This was one of those things. I was just eight and my sister was five. We were kids. Today I am a little embarrassed to say what we used to do: we imitated wrestlers. Yes, we would just be in our underpants, running around a short, round table facing each other. We repeated the word "yah" over and over again, raising our voices as we said it. Then, with a last yell, we would attack each other, whether it be jumping on one another or pulling the each others legs. I am surprised I still remember those days but I know we had lots of fun doing those crazy things.

However, that particular time, things turned out different than usual. After the ultimate yell, I jumped at her and started chasing her around the table. I caught her, she tried to get away from me, she tripped, and fell. Hard. She banged her head against the corner of the wooden frame of the bed. She rebounded from the crash and fell to the floor. Her head was bleeding and she had fainted.

My mother rushed into the room and saw what had happened. Ama rushed her to the hospital. With anticipation, I waited for their return. They came back after a couple of hours. Beside the couple of stitches on her head, my sister was back to normal. However, I wasn't.

I felt guilty and disappointed at myself. I was supposed to be the elder sister. I was supposed to be taking care of her. I was supposed to be more responsible. So, the eight-year-old me promised that we would never play that godforsaken game ever again.

Challenge 59: French

49. Describe your most important academic accomplishment or intellectual experience to date. We don’t want to know about test scores or course grades, rather we want to know about your creativity, your willingness to take intellectual risks or your affinity for scholarly endeavors. (MIT)

I thought being able to speak three languages was enough. I spoke Nepali since I was a small, I could speak some Hindi from all the movies I used to watch, and I could speak English. And then came eighth grade where I had a choice between taking Hindi and French, which was completely foreign to me. Of course, I chose French. But, I had no idea how challenging it would be. It was a completely different dialect than what I was used to. However, I told myself that it wouldn't be so bad and took on the challenge.

In the beginning I struggled with it. I would try to memorize all the rules, the gender of every other object, how to make words plural or singular, and what not. But, even when I tried my hardest, I would still end up with a B. I was disappointed and was going to quit without giving it much thought. Anyway, that would leave me with other options. However, I still had to finish my language credits, and wanting to give it another try, I didn't quit.

Then, it started getting easier in the second year. I started to understand almost everything the teacher would say in class. I started to speak French with my friends outside of class. We shared many jokes together. We would speak French if we didn't want others to know what we were talking about. We would talk in French to improve out pronunciations and "liaisons." I even started to listen to French songs!

Learning the language also meant learning about the culture and different aspects of the French society. I learned more about the country, its people, and their ways of living. From pourboire to collocation, I saw what it would be like to like in France. And now, that has inspired me to visit France, maybe study there, or live there for a few years. I could use what I learned in class to gain a first-hand experience in the country itself.

Taking on the challenge to learn French proved to be wonderful after all. By the end of the third year of learning French, my language credits were complete. I could have quit right there and moved on to something different. However, I stuck to the challenge and wanted even more to master as much of it as possible in the two years left in High School. And, although I am not as fluent in French as I would like to be, learning another language proved to be my most important and wonderful accomplishment in High School.

Challenge 58: Give Money

249. If you had to give away a large sum of money, how would you do it?

Living and studying in India, I lost touch with what was happening in Nepal. All that I had in mind were the busy streets, the noisy traffic, the good-for-nothing government, trash, and the newly-established malls. Therefore, when I came across a book in the school library based on Nepal, I instantly checked it out to find out what it was about. The book was called Little Princes and it was written by the founder of Next Generation Nepal, a charity foundation, Conor Grennan. It talked about how his reluctant volunteering in an orphanage in Nepal led him on a journey to rescue hundreds of children who had been abandoned by child traffickers in Kathmandu during the Civil War. While I read the book, I was inspired and awed by his determination and strength to save these children who were strangers to the author.

The book described his journey to Humla, a remote area of Nepal from where the cold never leaves. I learned about families who struggle to survive in the bitter weather. I learned about the heartless Maoists barging in through the homes of these poor people, demanding money and food. I learned about the sadness and pain with which these poor parents gave away their children to men who promised the parents that their children would go to safety from the ongoing Civil War. The men were nothing but demons, asking for a great amount of money from the parents only to abandon their children in the streets of Kathmandu.

After learning of the Next Generation Nepal organization from the book, I decided to pay the website a visit. I found a section where it talked about ways to raise money for the organization to help it in its missions. I quickly went through the list and found something about a documentary on Paper Orphans. After I saw the video, I was frustrated. I was angry at the slow development of the country, the corruption, the ignorance, and the poverty.

So, if I had a great amount of money to give away, I would give it all to organizations like Next Generation Nepal that helped to make a difference in Nepal. I would donate it so that people who are suffering in remote places where the government doesn't reach would get some benefit out of it.

Today, I know more about my country than I did yesterday. And tomorrow, I will try my hardest to make a difference in Nepal.

Challenge 57: What I Don't Know

133. French novelist Anatole France wrote: "An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you do know and what you don't." What don't you know? (Brown)

I don't know...

1. what the capital of Angola is
2. how to stand on my hands
3. how to iron a formal shirt
4. why the ocean is blue (although I remember reading about it somewhere)
5. if the sun is going to destroy the world
6. what happens in the sixth episode of the second season of the Big bang Theory
7. what I will do tomorrow
8. why I get angry at little things
9. when to stop talking
10. where the next earthquake is going to strike
11. if I will survive another day
12. why the AP Biology book is so enormous
13. how to always keep my study table clean
14. what to do with the ten unpaired socks
15. how the flowers in my garden get through the cold weather
16. why my brother is screaming while I try to work
17. if I should have made my bed by now
18. what the world will be like in 15 years
19. how to reply to an awkward message
20. why the computer screen is so bright
21. I like to read
22. What will happen tomorrow
23. What will happen the day after
24. If I will go to my desired college
25. If I will become a successful person
26. When I will start earning my own money
27. what kinds of friends I will make
28. What I will do with my life
29. Why I keep wondering these things
30. Why I am so hungry right now.

Challenge 56: Routine

127. Describe a daily routine or tradition of yours that may seem ordinary to others but holds special meaning for you. Why is this practice significant to you? (Barnard)

Early morning, I wake up and sit up on my bed. The weather is cold outside. The marbles on the floor shoot cold bullets at me. I shiver. Gathering up the courage, I throw away my blankets and let my feet find the slippers on the foot of my bed. I stand up, stretch, grab my toiletries, and head to the toilet. And thus, the most important activity of my day begins.

I have to say that sharing the bathroom with around twenty more girls isn't pleasant. I run into them sometimes, I can't personalize the toilet, and sometimes, I have to encounter things I'd rather not. But, all in all, the toilet helps me get ready for the day.

As I enter the toilet, I see a small group of girls lazily brushing their teeth, their hair, and whatever else. Their eyes are barely open and they lean on the sink for support. But me, I am wide awake. I smile to myself as I see my tangled hair and weary face.

As one of the sinks is freed, I rush to claim it. Then, I dab some toothpaste on my toothbrush, hold it under the running water, and start brushing my teeth. I feel better already. And by then, I am used to the cold around me. I hold small conversations with my friends as I attempt to not drop the fuzzy, toothpaste and saliva mixture on my shirt.

After brushing my teeth, I wash my face. This has to be the best part of the activity because I feel like a new person afterwards! I mix the face wash with a little water and get the foamy effect. I rub it on my face gently and feel relaxed instantly. I wash my face with a lot of water and feel fresh and ready for the day.

Odd as it may seem, brushing and washing is something that holds lots of importance to me. It gets me ready for the day, fresh and new, and ready to work my behind off. I feel clean and ready to tackle another day.

Challenge 55: Page 217

13. You’ve just written a 300-page autobiography. Send us page 217. (University of Pennsylvania)

After I told her what had happened, I started to cry. I hadn't known that this simple incident had had such a pathetic influence on me. Just because of a few words and acts, I was acting like a cry baby. I cried and cried, while I hugged her. She comforted me.

She said that I shouldn't give into my feelings too much, that I shouldn't take everything at heart. She said if I did this, I wouldn't be able to survive life. There were going to be many other stones and obstructions in my way, and if I reacted like this every time, then I wouldn't be able to go very far. She said that friends will come and go. Some will leave a good impression while others will be different from what you expect. However, soon, I will be going off to college, and who knows, I might meet some really great people there and make some friends who will last me a lifetime. If things aren't so well right now, they would get better. And I told myself that and slept the headache off. I had listened and I understood.

However, there was one thing I didn't tell her, and that was that this was not the first time somebody had said something mean and I had started crying. I mean, you would expect the crying to stop after you had turned 13 or something. You would expect a soon-to-be-adult to handle these kinds of experiences maturely. You would just turn away, forget about it, and go on into things that mattered more. Of course, I wasn't like that. If something bothered me, I couldn't shrug it off and move on. Instead, I gave in to my emotions, whether it be anger or frustration or feeling pathetic. Childish as it may seem, it is much easier than ignoring it altogether.

However, when I did got off to college, things changed...

Challenge 54: Govt. and Pol.

164. Do you believe that your academic record accurately reflects your abilities? Explain.

I walked into the classroom thinking that I had prepared as much as I could. The night before, I had slept early so that I could get up early as possible on the day of my test to review whatever we had covered in class. I had read almost 40 pages the day before and had reviewed my notes this morning.

Okay, first I must admit that I had been slacking off in this class. I mean, it was government and politics! Additionally, the teacher was new and although we had heard great things about him from when he was a teacher here, I don't know, some 20 years ago, he wasn't what you called your favorite. However, after seeing a mere 5 scribbled on my quiz paper previously, I was determined to pull up my grade now. It was much needed because I want to do law in the future, and to show colleges that I ended up with a D in that class wouldn't be a very good idea.

Feeling quite prepared, I took my seat next to my two other friends. Known as the "three ladies in the back row" to the teacher, we didn't participate too much in class. But, today, we were all frantically flipping through the class notes, trying to capture it all in our minds. Soon enough, the teacher came, distributed the paper, and took his spot on front desk. We started the test.

As of this moment, I don't recall exactly what was on the test. However, there was a section with multiple choices and a writing section. Struggling like I was running up Sagarmatha, I got through the first section. When I came over to the second one, I noticed that I could scribble something down for almost all the questions there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I started moving my hand at top speed. After getting through all questions, I looked went back and quickly skimmed through my writing, correcting some errors. I went back to the multiple section too, making sure I had selected logical answers, handed the staple packet to the teacher, and flopped back on my chair.

I had done my best. I had tried my hardest and gave the test everything I could. There was nothing else I could do. And, I was a little confident on the writing parts so I thought this time, maybe I scratch up a B. Happily, I left the classroom.

But, the next class wasn't as I was expecting it to be. As the teacher handed out the papers, I prayed and prayed that I would get a B at least. After all, I had really given the preparation my best. He handed me the papers. Heart beating like the drums in the background of the movies when the hero is about to get his head ripped off by a giant squid with sharp, white teeth, but somehow managed to get around it and poke its eyes out, I looked at the paper. There it was, in blue ink, a 7 out of 14 in the multiple question. As I flipped over hoping for a better score, I saw that I had gotten a 16 on the writing section. My heart fell. I had still only managed to pass. I was frustrated. I got angry. I didn't understand what was wrong. Was I not smart enough for the subject? Did my brain not work as quickly as I thought it did? Or was there something wrong with the teacher? I didn't even know what I had scored out of in the second section, but I later heard that it was out of a thirty something. Wow. I had failed.

I have the ability to work hard. I have the ability to give something my best and hope for the best. I have the ability to work harder to achieve my goals. And yet, a number managed to replace it all. What utter disappointment.

Challenge 53: HP

224. A book that changed your life

I wouldn't say they, as it is a series, changed my life; that would be too dramatic. But, I would say that these books influenced my childhood and changed many things. Yes, you may have guessed: Harry Potter series. Yep, yep, it's the same old inspiring, magical, touching story. But with what Harry Potter was during my childhood years, and even today, I couldn't have asked for a better series of books. Thank you J.K. Rowling.

Not only was the aspect of magic appealing, but the story line with all its brilliant characters were inspiring. I would read the books for long hours into the night, just waiting to finish the adventures and start with a new one. I would watch the movies too, but I always found reading the book to be much more entertaining. I felt like I was living the adventures with the three friends. I would imagine myself being part of their lives at Hogwarts, meeting the magical creatures, fighting battles, and being able to do magic. In fact, it felt so real at that time that I almost imagine myself to be a witch, waiting to be discovered. Of course, that is too ridiculous (or is it? hmm...), but the idea didn't stop me from reading those books again and again.

In fact, when I joined the British Council for extra English classes, guess which book the teacher picked for discussing? Yes. The first Harry Potter book. I knew the book front to back. We read the book in class and had to play games and discuss things. I knew the answers for all of them, from the name of the bartender to the color of Hagrid's umbrella (which is different from what they show in the movie, mind you). I remember how all of them were so impressed by my knowledge.

The Harry Potter novels have taught me so many things. From what great friendships can be like to how to tame a three-headed dog, I learned so many great things. However, the most important lesson learned would be that life can be an adventure. In order to make it one, you just have to be up for it. You could spend every day like the previous one, or you could choose to do something different, something new, and who knows what that might lead you to discover? After all, all the adventures Harry and his friends got into was because they searched for these adventures, broke a few rules, or just took a chance. Life is like a tensed adventure package, waiting to be opened and freed into our lives. You just have to go ahead and rip it open.

Challenge 52: My Book

23. If you were to write a book, on what theme or subject matter would it be based, and why? (Stanford/93)

There are two kinds of people in this world: people who care and people who don't. The people who don't are those who think they own the world. They think they can say whatever they want, behave however their like, and talk about some things like they are of no importance. They become selfish and greedy. They only think about themselves and how they can benefit best from the situation. They are not sensitive about their surroundings, let alone the people around them. So, if somebody asked me to write a book, I would talk about these people.

Firstly, the reason for writing this book would be that these kind of people personally bother me. When the rest of the world is trying to save the planet from being destroyed, these people couldn't care less. This irritates me. It makes me feel like the efforts of the rest of the world to do something good are drowned by those who are just simple don't care. They think that as long as they are safe and sound, nothing else needs any thought. Yes, it could be that they don't understand better or aren't aware of their careless actions against the betterment of the world. But, even when one confronts them of the consequences, they still choose to act this way. The reason being that it is just way easier. What kind of logic is that?

One may judge that I am a pessimist soul. But I will argue that all of us have a little pessimist side within us. It is just shown with different circumstances. My pessimism involves the actions of others. When people carelessly throw away the trash right in front of their homes even though the trash-man comes to visit every other day, I get annoyed. Then, what do these people do next? They burn up the trash! Wow, what a great way to end it all.

The book would be fiction. There would be a hero, of course, who is aching to do something about the situation. She would be a character who brings all this misery to an end. She would go from place to place, educating people and telling them of the things that they should change in order for the better. There will be some problems, as in any other story, like a climax, but she would eventually conquer her problems and set out to create a better world.

Maybe this story will just remain that- a story. However, someday, I hope that I personally will be able to bring some change in the ways of people who do not care about the world. And, like Michael Jackson sings, "We can't go on pretending day by day/That someone, somehow will soon make a change."

Challenge 51: Work

157. Reflect on these words of Dorothy Day: "No one has the right to sit down and feel hopeless. There's too much work to do." What is "the work to be done" for your generation, and what impact does this have on your future as a leader? Write a creative, reflective, or provocative essay. (University of Notre Dame)

We call it an evening walk, but really, it is a stroll below the moon, and a single star that shines through the mist of the city pollution. My father and I walk together. He is hurrying away while I desperately try to match his pace. His steps are almost twice as big as mine.

There is a river just below the path, and I can see how much it has shrunk in the past few years. It has a famous name, Bagmati, and flows in front of the temple of Lord Shiva, Pashupati Nath, which we are crossing right now. I remember coming here, to this temple, so many times when I was little. We used to race up the steps, my sister and I, until I got older, and moved far away, and could only visit so frequently. The temple is beautiful and so was the river, but now it is drying up. There is trash lying around and city lights obstructing its beauty under the moonlight. I sigh.

My father says we should turn back around now and head home. I see a bridge just ahead and ask him if you could cross it instead and walk on the other shore. We walk across. The bridge seems weak, wobbly. But I can trust the solid metal and the hundreds of prayer flags tied to the bars are equally reassuring. They have lost their colors, the bright red, green, and yellow. But they still hold the faith and prayers of all those who tied them to the bridge.

We cross the bridge in a matter of minutes. I follow my father down the steps. Next to the bridge is a large tree, and underneath that tree, there is a small group of people. They are huddled around the fire, trying to keep their hands from freezing. No central heating, no automatic heaters. Just a fire outside in the cold, under a plastic roof. I notice a woman serving tea to these people. What a way of survival.

I want to turn back around, to the other side of the path where three and big, old, safe trees. The buildings on this side of the shore and too overwhelming right now. I ask my father if we should turn around, and he instantly agrees. We both walk back, feeling a bit, well, awkward as we pass the same people.

We continue our walk back to our house under the moon. My father points out how writers and poets describe the moonlight as such an incredible phenomena. But, he said, when we look down at our path showered with moonlight, it's just the same old light with nothing so magnificent. I think to myself that maybe that's what's different about writers and poets. They see things differently.

We near our house when I see something a bright, yellow glow. As we come closer, I realize it is fire. They are burning trash. I stand there, stare at them, and many thoughts fly through my head. What pathetic people, what foolish beings, what unfortunate animals. They are hopeless. They cannot be taught, educated. I think about the time my sister, my helper, and I tried cleaning up that place. We picked up for hours and still, there was loads of trash left, from diapers to got knows what. They came, these people, to watch us. They stood their, murmuring amongst themselves. Nobody bothered to come help. Nobody thanked us from trying. And another six months later, it is the same.

I walk into my house. I think about the many things that are wrong in this country. Poverty has not let people of Nepal get an education to learn about the consequences of their careless actions. They do not know that these things are wrong to do. And even if they do, they do not bother making a difference, changing some of the things in life to make sure our country can become better. But, maybe it is too early to give up hope. I am still young, and maybe, in the near future, I can make some difference in my country. Make a difference for the better. I know my country needs it and I know I can do it together will all those people who want to help this country. That's why, there is still so much work to be done. We can't be hopeless because I know that Nepal will become a better place than it is today.