My path to medicine has been driven by a commitment to community health, a passion for service, and personal experiences shaping my understanding of the human condition. As a pre-med student at UCLA, I am pursuing a Bachelor's in Human Biology and Society, immersing myself in an interdisciplinary education blending biological sciences and social issues. I believe this is crucial for becoming an effective, compassionate physician who understands the social, cultural, and psychological factors in patient care. My interest in medicine has been cultivated through diverse experiences serving communities and contributing to impactful research. As a Research Assistant, I honed technical skills in data collection, equipment preparation, and experiment management, also contributing to meaningful research in lung cancer and neuromodulation. These roles reinforced my love for problem-solving in clinical research and furthered my desire to advance medical knowledge. Leading a biweekly mobile clinic in Skid Row as the Mobile Clinic Project Coordinator for United Sikhs was immensely rewarding, allowing me to directly address healthcare disparities. By coordinating with physicians and partners, I could deliver vital services to underserved communities. This experience taught me the value of collaboration and the profound impact that compassionate, community-focused healthcare can have on vulnerable populations. Growing up as a child of immigrant parents, I have always seen the challenges faced by those without easy access to healthcare. My parents, who lived in the U.S. for 20 years, rarely visited doctors due to financial and legal concerns. This experience as a caretaker fueled my desire to enter the medical field. My determination to become a physician was further strengthened when my longtime Gatka teacher battled a cancer relapse. This event inspired me to delve deeper into scientific research, allowing me to better understand the complexities of diseases like cancer and the intricate processes that impact patient outcomes. Additionally, my cultural and spiritual upbringing as a Sikh has greatly influenced my identity and values. Embracing Sikhism and wearing a turban from a young age taught me resilience in the face of adversity. At school, I was often judged based on my appearance rather than my abilities. This experience instilled in me a strong sense of self-confidence and inspired me to challenge biases while celebrating my cultural heritage. My involvement in Sikh temples and Sikh martial arts has taught me the importance of community, leadership, and personal growth. These valuable qualities have carried over into my academic and professional endeavors, where I strive to inspire and mentor others. Looking ahead, my ultimate goal is to become a physician who understands the complexities of the human body and takes into account the psychological, sociological, and cultural factors that influence patient care. I am particularly interested in bridging healthcare disparities by focusing on underserved populations and ensuring that everyone, regardless of their background, receives the care they need. I am eager to continue my journey in medicine, utilizing my research experiences, community service, and leadership skills to make a positive impact in the field.

Born as a Hindu, I converted to Sikhism in the third grade, and with this new faith came a new marker of my identity: a turban. Since birth, I had always been surrounded by Sikhs who taught me the importance of giving back, living honest lives, and always being humble, influencing the way I lived my life. However, my school experience was a different story. I was the only Sikh in a school of children unexposed to my culture and religion. Only a week into wearing a turban to school and I was already becoming self-conscious of my new identity. It didn’t matter that I tested into my school’s gifted program, was a top student in my class, or had gotten the most accelerated reading points in my entire school. I went from being the smart and reliable girl to the girl with the thing on her head. “Just fake it ‘till you make it”. That became my mantra before doing anything because I never wanted others to see how daunted I felt by their words. Yet, while I preferred not to attract attention, I refused to let my education falter. I took advantage of all the opportunities that were given to me. I always helped my teacher grade quizzes in class, was known for reading books at a high school level, and was even the runner-up of the school spelling bee which happened in front of all the kids from 3rd to 5th grade. My image at school and my confidence changed. I still had the same friends and did the same work. But mentally, everything changed. I realized that the only way people could hurt me or make me feel inferior was if I let them. Others’ views of my limitations will not hinder me from discovering my own capabilities. I am a representation of my community and my faith. My unique identity is a strength, not a barrier or an obstacle that I have to overcome. It is the force that challenges me to understand those in similar positions and breakthrough my own thoughts that confine me. I do not wear a turban because it comes along with my decision to be a Sikh. I wear one because I am proud to be a Sikh. I never knew that this experience would help me support other children. After six years as a student, I returned to Guru Angad Dev’s Children Academy as a teacher. In charge of six students in third grade, I developed my relationships as a reliable key figure. In particular, I spent hours after class with one boy, who was hesitating to wear a turban to school due to a fear of standing out. His confession surprised me because I immediately saw my past self when I was in third grade. Reminded of how long it had taken for me to get used to the stares and whispers of my peers, I spent 10 months discussing emotions and scenarios he could face. I built upon the positive aspects because I wanted him to feel empowered, not discouraged. Being able to see my own past from an older perspective, I acquired enough knowledge to know that once he put himself out there, the stares would not affect him again. I never viewed myself as being experienced enough to truly help others as a 15-year-old, but watching this child put their entire faith in me as a mentor led me to one conclusion: I refuse to be an onlooker in the social isolation of any Sikh child.

The news hit me pretty hard. My Gatka (Sikh martial arts) teacher of over 10 years informed me of his cancer relapse. There were a million thoughts running through my mind. But above all else, I wanted to know why. Why did his cancer return? I could not comprehend why something that had completely disappeared would just randomly return again. I turned to Khan Academy, YouTube, scientific articles, and my AP Biology class seeking answers. One can never truly know if cancer is completely gone. Metastasis can occur in which cells break away from primary cancer, too small to be spotted, resulting in the recurrence of cancer. This was only the beginning. I spent most of my high school summers researching different medical fields, but now I had a specific interest. Through my AP and IB Biology courses, I learned more about oncogenes and carcinogens while researching the cell cycle and mutagens on my own. I transformed my research to practicality as I participated in regional and state-level competitions at the medical club at my school, Health Occupations Students of America (HOSA). It connected me to like-minded people while giving me the tools that I needed to learn more about cancer resistance and the everyday procedures physicians use in gene testing, targeted therapy, and biopsies. However, I also realized that my religious community does not trust the healthcare system to provide adequate care. The general consensus was that going to a healthcare provider would only result in being prescribed a useless medication, and we would not actually get better. At the time, I fell for it, too. However, I now understand that this is not always the case, and most physicians aim to treat patients better than what I have described. Despite my understanding, the rest of my community continues to hold such views, which can be very dangerous because our community is one that is at high risk for cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and various other illnesses, but by ignoring their health needs, it is highly likely that many members of my community are unknowingly decreasing their quality of life and their lifespan. I want to not only learn about the various possible disease that may affect more of my community but also explore the different therapies for treatments and understand why they are so effective. Being able to work with professors and seeing how doctors interact with patients will enable me to understand the nature of the disease and people’s bodily reactions to it. The specialized focuses of the schools of UCLA contain opportunities for me to work alongside professionals who explore with their students outside the classroom. Most importantly, I want to work with the collaborative community of students with similar goals at UCLA that will help me solidify the foundation of being physical and help lead my community in the right direction in terms of healthcare. A month before the COVID shutdown in southern California, my father’s company was taken over and shifted to New York. My father could keep his job, our family’s sole income source, as long as we moved to New York, but it was an offer we could not accept. Our family thought losing this job would be fine since my father had over 20 years of work experience and could easily find another job. On the contrary, we lived off our parents’ savings for almost a year and a half since no one in my family could secure employment. My older brother, who is autistic, was and still is in college. I would spend a portion of my time checking my brother’s writing assignments and helping him whenever he needed it. When our savings started to deplete, my father had to work at a 7-Eleven to generate some sort of income as all the government monetary aid was spent on bills. I had to withdraw from all the virtual medical internships and summer camps I had signed up for because it was no longer something we could afford. Refusing to let my education falter, I turned my focus on opportunities at school and online that were free. However, despite my father’s recent employment, the cost of college and my plan of attending medical school, has made me place heavy emphasis on financial aid in order to support my future plans and to not create any financial burdens on my family.

Growing up, my religious community was composed of many immigrants, and a large portion did not trust the healthcare system to provide adequate care. The general consensus was that a healthcare provider would only prescribe a medication that would not actually help us. At the time, I fell for it, too. However, I now understand that most physicians aim to treat patients better than what I have described. Despite my understanding, the rest of my community continues to hold such views, which can be very dangerous because our community is one that is at high risk for cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and various other illnesses, but by ignoring their health needs, it is likely that many members of my community are unknowingly decreasing their quality of life and their lifespan. This is where my commitment to community engagement and volunteerism started. Seva (selfless service) is a hallmark of my religion, Sikhism. Through the lens of Seva, I hope to give back to the community by becoming a physician and showing my community the way to leading healthier lives, and reinstating their trust in the healthcare system. I started by being a United Sikhs volunteer member and going every Saturday to make food for the homeless people, and during Covid, for the struggling families and the ill. I learned the importance of food on emotional and physical well-being. Physical and mental states are directly tied together, so when the physical state goes down because of lack of proper food, the person is more prone to have negative thoughts about themselves that slowly turn into negativity about life. I was never taught this in my community, which leads to my long-term goal of providing awareness to the youth to take care of their mental health because even though it is not something we see physically, it affects every aspect of our lives. As a result, when you think negatively, you also tend to eat in a way that is unhealthy. In order to make this change, I needed to commit to encouraging leadership among the youth. As an aspiring physician, I hope to integrate mental health into my practice by advocating for mental health outreach, both within and outside my religious community. I grew up without any acknowledgment of the importance of mental health until high school. I understood that my mental health was just as important as my physical health, if not more. I plan to instill this knowledge in the rising generations of my community and throughout the world in the hopes that, together, we can decrease local and global rates of suicide and other mental health crises. When we can improve our mental health, we are able to change our eating habits. Already I make sure that my family does not use too much salt in our food and that we also include salads more in our meals. I have also convinced my family to eat food with less oil so that we can reduce the unhealthy fatty acids that we consume.

It is really easy to tell yourself that yes you can do it. I hear that from everyone around me, but the question still remains. Can I actually really do it? Well, I found my answer in 3rd grade when life decided to teach me what it truly meant to be resilient. “What is she wearing on her head?” Born as a Hindu, I converted to Sikhism in the third grade which came with a new marker of my identity: a turban. Since birth, I had always been surrounded by Sikhs who made me feel welcomed and loved. However, school life was a different story. I was the only Sikh in a school of children unexposed to my culture and religion. It didn’t matter that I tested into my school’s gifted program, was a top student of my grade, or had gotten the most accelerated reading points in school. I went from being the smart and reliable girl to the girl with the thing on her head. Only a week into third grade, and I was already self-conscious of myself and my new identity. “Just fake it ‘till you make it”. That became my mantra before doing anything because I never wanted others to see how daunted I felt by their words. Before presentations, I would convince myself that even if I messed up, no one was going to know besides me. Yet, while I preferred not to attract attention, I refused to let my education falter. I took advantage of all the opportunities that were given to me. I always helped my teacher grade quizzes in class, set the record for most accelerated reading points at a high school level reading range, and was even the runner-up of the school spelling bee. My image at school and my confidence changed. I was not intimidated or nervous. People were recognizing me for who I was and what I did instead of what I looked like from the outside. Only then did I understand that I cannot control people’s biases, but I do have power over my reaction to them. I realized that my turban is not an obstacle for me to overcome, but the force that challenges me to break through my own confinements. Others’ views of my limitations will not hinder my discovery of my own capabilities. I am a representation of my community and my faith. My unique identity is a strength, not a barrier or an obstacle that I have to overcome. It is not a reason for me to fear others’ reactions to it. It is the symbol of the Sikh leaders who came before me and left their mark in history. I do not wear a turban because it comes along with my decision to be a Sikh. I proudly wear my turban as I continue to push myself to be the best version of myself both interpersonally and academically. The biggest thing that life ever taught me was that I needed to be resilient if I wanted to stand out and be myself. As said by Maya Angelou: "I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it".