I became a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because she makes transformation look fearless and fun. Like Sabrina, I started my journey in one world and found myself growing into another. I earned my first degree in neuroscience in Australia, completed a Master’s in Healthcare Management in Boston, and even spent years teaching high school biology and founding a science education platform. But eventually, I realized that what I really wanted was to be closer to patients and the science of healing. So, I made the leap back to school and I’m now pursuing my pre-med requirements at Columbia to apply to medical school. That kind of restart is intimidating, and that’s where Sabrina’s music came in. Songs like because i liked a boy and emails i can’t send made me feel less alone in the messiness of change, while Espresso reminded me that it’s okay to have a little fun along the way. Watching her go from a Disney Channel actress to a chart-topping pop star gave me the courage to lean into my own reinvention and not be afraid of leaving an old chapter behind. Her career also taught me how to carry humor and honesty into difficult moments. Sabrina is playful and self-aware even when singing about heartbreak, and that has influenced how I approach the pressure of medical training, intense research projects, and the occasional setback. Her music reminds me that growth doesn’t have to be all grit, it can also be joy, cleverness, and self-discovery. Being a Sabrina Carpenter fan is more than listening to catchy pop; it’s watching someone embrace who she is, take creative risks, and turn vulnerability into art. That’s exactly how I want to approach my own future in medicine, with authenticity, resilience, and maybe even a little espresso energy.

1. Tell us about yourself. I am a biology teacher, a relentless learner, a storyteller of cells, and someone who believes that science, when taught with love, can change lives. I became a high school biology teacher at 19, not through some dramatic movie-like twist, but because I loved biology so much it physically hurt to see my peers back in Bangladesh dismiss it as dull memorization. I believed biology could be beautiful, elegant, even poetic, and I set out to teach it that way. What drives me is the desire to help people see that beauty: in the sweeping arc of evolution, in the precision of DNA replication, in the silent, powerful pulse of the heart. My work has evolved since then, from running a grassroots coaching center out of my living room, to studying medicine and global policy, to now researching the regenerative potential of heart cells. But my mission remains the same: to teach, to heal, and to serve with empathy and evidence hand in hand. 2. What’s a real-world issue you feel deeply connected to, and why? I feel deeply connected to the failure of healthcare systems to serve the most vulnerable. I saw it firsthand growing up in Dhaka, where delayed diagnoses, misinformation, and inequity led to preventable deaths, one of which took the person I loved most when I was just ten years old. Later, while teaching in underserved communities and speaking with students whose family members avoided care due to stigma or cost, I realized that healing the body is not enough. We must also heal the system that delivers that care. I carry that loss, and the injustice around it, into every space I enter. It is the silent engine behind my decision to pursue medicine, my research in cardiology, and my dedication to making science accessible. 3. If you had the power to make change in that area, what would you do? If I had the power, I would build a healthcare system rooted in empathy and scientific reasoning. A system that reaches people before they fall through the cracks, not after. I would fund scalable, community-based education initiatives so patients better understand their conditions and options. I’d redesign medical training to prioritize not only clinical excellence, but cultural humility and communication. And I would build platforms where clinicians, researchers, and teachers collaborate, because science should not end at publication; it should live in classrooms, clinics, and conversations. On the research side, I would fund regenerative medicine, especially cardiology, so we can move away from chronic symptom management and toward real repair. I believe our future lies in bridging molecular insight with public health action. 4. How did you choose your area of study, and what do you hope to do with it? I chose biosciences not out of strategy, but out of love. In seventh grade, I picked up a college-level biology book and read about phagocytes. These tiny cells could identify, chase, and engulf invaders, it was like reading about superheroes under a microscope. That moment stayed with me. I pursued biomedicine in college, competed in (and won) the National Biology Olympiad, and went on to teach hundreds of students, many of whom now study biosciences around the world. Eventually, I pursued an MBA and became a Schwarzman Scholar to learn how science and leadership intersect. But every step, I was pulled back to biology. I now study at Columbia University, completing pre-med requirements and conducting research in cardiology. I hope to become a physician-researcher who not only treats patients but designs systems and policies that expand access to care. 5. What’s one goal you’ve set for yourself in the next 5 years—and how do you plan to get there? My goal in the next five years is to begin medical school and pursue a dual career in research and clinical care. I’m currently completing a second bachelor’s degree at Columbia University to fulfill U.S. medical school prerequisites. Alongside, I am engaged in research on cardiomyocyte polyploidy (studying why heart cells in humans lose their ability to regenerate, and what evolutionary advantages may have driven that shift). I plan to apply to medical schools with strong research programs in cardiology and regenerative medicine. I’ll continue teaching through TAship, tutoring and free workshops, keeping that part of myself alive. The path is long, but I’m walking it with intention and clarity. 6. How has education helped you better understand yourself and your purpose? Education has been the mirror that reflected to me who I truly am. Through teaching, I discovered I’m not just passionate about science. I’m passionate about helping others see that passion in themselves. Through studying across three continents and diverse disciplines—from neuroscience to business, I realized I thrive at the intersections. And through coming back to undergrad at 27, I’ve learned that “non-traditional” paths are not setbacks, they are the scenic routes full of meaning. Education taught me that my purpose is not just to know, but to connect: ideas to people, science to humanity, ambition to compassion. 7. How has your identity as a woman influenced the way you move through the world? Being a woman, especially in Bangladesh, from a minority community, has shaped every decision I’ve made. I was not allowed to go outside alone, even as an adult, since it was not safe and rape threats against Hindu women were a norm. When I wanted to open my own coaching center at 19, my family feared for my safety. So, I turned our living room into a classroom. I taught biology all day, in rotating batches of 17 students, because public spaces weren’t always safe for girls. As a woman in science, I’ve had to work harder to be taken seriously, to push through doubts (others’ and my own), and to fight for space I knew I deserved. But it also made me fiercely resilient, deeply empathetic, and unwavering in my desire to lift up other girls and women in STEM. During my graduate studies, my thesis was based on the factors that help and hinder women in STEM and that helped me gain newfound appreciation for myself and my peers. My identity doesn’t limit me, it fuels me. 8. What does leadership mean to you—and how have you embodied it? To me, leadership is not about titles, it’s about trust. It’s about having the courage to start something before you feel ready, and the humility to learn from those you lead. Leadership is turning your living room into a classroom because your students need more. It’s showing up even when the system tells you you’re too young, too female, or too different. I’ve led as a teacher, as a founder, as a peer mentor, and as a Schwarzman Scholar. But the leadership I’m most proud of is quiet: the kind that grows confidence in others and creates space for voices that are too often unheard. 9. Describe a time you had to be resourceful or resilient. What did you learn from it? When my school refused to let me offer more biology classes because I was “just a 18-year-old child,” I was crushed. I cried on the rooftop, but then I taught my next class anyway. And then I built my own coaching centre, Bioland, right from my living room, to teach what and how I believed biology should be taught. When it wasn’t safe for me to run that business in public, I turned my home into a classroom. When I realized my first undergrad degree in Australia is not acceptable for getting into medical schools in the U.S, I started again from scratch, redoing undergrad after two Masters degrees at the age of 27. Financially I am scraping by, and I see my peers moving ahead in the world while I am re-studying organic chemistry. But I am happy I am pursuing my passion. These experiences taught me that resilience isn’t just surviving hardship, it’s reshaping it into opportunity. 10. If awarded this scholarship, how would it help you pursue your dreams? This scholarship would be transformative. As a low-income student pursuing a second undergraduate degree to fulfill medical school prerequisites in New York city, financial aid is limited, but my commitment to this path is not. This support would allow me to focus fully on my academics, research, and community engagement without the constant weight of financial stress. More importantly, it would affirm that choosing a longer, less traditional path in the service of purpose is not only valid but valued. It would give me the space to continue growing as a future physician, educator, and changemaker, one who sees science not just as knowledge, but as care.

1) I first picked up The Emperor of All Maladies one quiet afternoon after teaching a high school biology lesson. I was 19, still running my own biology coaching sessions, teaching hundreds of students while waiting to start my undergraduate studies. A few pages in, I had to pause, stare into space and cry. Not out of sadness, or even joy, but out of overwhelming beauty. The sheer beauty of the biology being described took my breath away. Even for someone who had lived and breathed biology for years, it was like seeing an old love in a new light. My love for biology began when I was in seventh grade and stumbled upon a higher-level textbook. I read about phagocytes, how they chased and engulfed foreign invaders like tiny sentient warriors. It was elegance, intelligence, and purpose all wrapped into a microscopic cell. That moment shaped me. I studied for the National Biology Olympiad, became a champion, and began teaching biosciences soon after, determined to share that sense of awe. Reading Mukherjee’s words reminded me of that early wonder. His writing made cancer cells- terrible and devastating as they are- seem like tragic geniuses: our own cells, only more persistent, more adapted, more refined- ‘a more perfect versions of us’, as he described it. I have hated cancer since I was ten, when it took away the person I loved most. That grief shaped my path toward medicine. But in this book, I found space not just to mourn, but to marvel. And as I read, I kept thinking of the people, especially my students, who might never get to witness the astonishing beauty I saw in those pages. That thought deepened my drive to teach, to build spaces where young minds could see biology not as memorization, but as art. The Emperor of All Maladies didn’t just move me, it expanded what I believed teaching could be- developing such a strong appreciation for biology that they would have to stop every other page of this book, sit in silence and just feel grateful to behold the beauty that is biology. 2) Zebrafish can regenerate their hearts even in adulthood. Their heart muscle cells (cardiomyocytes) are mononucleated and diploid, meaning they carry just one nucleus with a single set of genetic instructions. When injured, these cells re-enter the cell cycle and divide to rebuild lost tissue, making zebrafish champions of cardiac regeneration. Humans, by contrast, mostly have polyploid cardiomyocytes, cells with multiple copies of their genome, often spread across more than one nucleus (can be thought of as several overlapping instruction manual). Instead of enabling repair, this complexity prevents cell division and regeneration. After a heart attack, the human heart can’t rebuild what was lost, it scars instead. Why would evolution favor a system that sacrifices regeneration? Interesting that is the question I’m researching currently in Columbia University Cardiology lab. I study how and why human cardiomyocytes become polyploid and what evolutionary advantage that might offer. Understanding this trade-off may one day help us design ways to restore the heart’s ability to regenerate. It’s fascinating to think that somewhere in the tension between resilience and regeneration lies not just a biological mystery, but possibly the key to healing the leading cause of death worldwide.