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Submission information
Submission Number: 492
Submission ID: 1634
Submission UUID: 904cf5c7-16bc-4ea2-9ff3-e39ff2676f25
Submission URI:/center/mortenson/form/webform-1367
Created: Wed, 03/19/2025 - 22:25
Completed: Wed, 03/19/2025 - 22:25
Changed: Fri, 04/18/2025 - 16:29
Remote IP address: 2401:4900:a008:896e:d4b8:120a:38ec:af68
Submitted by:Anonymous
Language: English
Is draft: No
Flagged: Yes
Locked: Yes
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piyush
arora
He/him/his
FARIDABAD
Haryana
India
121002
Aerospace Engineering
ENGLISH[5], HINDI[5], FRENCH[2]
"That's not how it works." Four dismissive words from a British aerospace engineer at the London expo silenced the room—but ignited something in me. I had questioned why hydrogen fuel cells couldn't repurpose waste heat, and his abrupt response revealed more than technical limitations. It exposed how differently engineers think across cultures.
In India, my teachers celebrate theoretical questions. "Let's explore that possibility," they say, even when an idea seems impractical. This contrast became the unexpected focus of my London journey. Where my Indian education valued creative exploration, British engineering prioritized established methodologies.
On the train back, I scribbled diagrams, determined to understand this gap. Later, I posed the same question to a Japanese engineer. His thoughtful pause before explaining limitations showed yet another approach—balancing innovation with feasibility.
At the Science Museum, the Apollo 10 command module showed me engineering's universal language. Engineers worldwide contribute unique approaches, solving common problems through collaboration. At Brooklands, the Concorde—a British-French partnership—proved how different national traditions merge successfully. The French brought aerodynamic brilliance; the British, structural integrity. Together, they achieved what neither could alone.
This journey reshaped my understanding of engineering. Each culture's perspective contains strengths and blind spots. The most innovative solutions emerge when these viewpoints intersect.
The Global Engineering RAP excites me because I want to develop this cross-cultural mindset—combining India's theoretical creativity with practical approaches from around the world. Because sometimes, breakthroughs begin when someone asks, "What if that's not how it has to work?"
In India, my teachers celebrate theoretical questions. "Let's explore that possibility," they say, even when an idea seems impractical. This contrast became the unexpected focus of my London journey. Where my Indian education valued creative exploration, British engineering prioritized established methodologies.
On the train back, I scribbled diagrams, determined to understand this gap. Later, I posed the same question to a Japanese engineer. His thoughtful pause before explaining limitations showed yet another approach—balancing innovation with feasibility.
At the Science Museum, the Apollo 10 command module showed me engineering's universal language. Engineers worldwide contribute unique approaches, solving common problems through collaboration. At Brooklands, the Concorde—a British-French partnership—proved how different national traditions merge successfully. The French brought aerodynamic brilliance; the British, structural integrity. Together, they achieved what neither could alone.
This journey reshaped my understanding of engineering. Each culture's perspective contains strengths and blind spots. The most innovative solutions emerge when these viewpoints intersect.
The Global Engineering RAP excites me because I want to develop this cross-cultural mindset—combining India's theoretical creativity with practical approaches from around the world. Because sometimes, breakthroughs begin when someone asks, "What if that's not how it has to work?"
"That can't possibly work," my physics teacher stated when I suggested using sound waves to extinguish fires. This dismissal sparked my most important engineering lesson - not about acoustics, but how cultural perspectives shape innovation.
Growing up in India, I've witnessed engineering through multiple lenses. In my grandmother's village, necessity births ingenious fixes using minimal resources - like handcrafted bamboo water wheels that irrigate fields without electricity. Meanwhile, my urban high school lab emphasizes theoretical perfection over adaptation. This contrast became my intellectual playground.
During a free online workshop, my question about integrating traditional mud-cooling techniques into modern HVAC systems confused Western attendees but resonated with North African participants. Their enthusiasm validated my belief that engineering's potential emerges at the intersection of diverse knowledge systems.
When our school's solar project stalled, I suggested incorporating vernacular architecture principles from Rajasthan. By combining modern solar panels with traditional passive cooling designs, we created a more efficient system than either approach alone.
I've become a collector of "rejected" engineering approaches - ancient water harvesting techniques, indigenous materials science, and community-based designs overlooked in textbooks. Each perspective reveals blind spots in conventional thinking.
Engineering isn't just applying formulas but questioning which problems deserve solving and how cultural contexts shape solutions. By embracing diverse approaches, we transform limitations into opportunities. I aim to develop this cross-cultural engineering mindset—because breakthroughs often begin when someone asks, "What if that's not how it has to work?"
Growing up in India, I've witnessed engineering through multiple lenses. In my grandmother's village, necessity births ingenious fixes using minimal resources - like handcrafted bamboo water wheels that irrigate fields without electricity. Meanwhile, my urban high school lab emphasizes theoretical perfection over adaptation. This contrast became my intellectual playground.
During a free online workshop, my question about integrating traditional mud-cooling techniques into modern HVAC systems confused Western attendees but resonated with North African participants. Their enthusiasm validated my belief that engineering's potential emerges at the intersection of diverse knowledge systems.
When our school's solar project stalled, I suggested incorporating vernacular architecture principles from Rajasthan. By combining modern solar panels with traditional passive cooling designs, we created a more efficient system than either approach alone.
I've become a collector of "rejected" engineering approaches - ancient water harvesting techniques, indigenous materials science, and community-based designs overlooked in textbooks. Each perspective reveals blind spots in conventional thinking.
Engineering isn't just applying formulas but questioning which problems deserve solving and how cultural contexts shape solutions. By embracing diverse approaches, we transform limitations into opportunities. I aim to develop this cross-cultural engineering mindset—because breakthroughs often begin when someone asks, "What if that's not how it has to work?"
I once spent an entire afternoon wondering if airplanes could be built upside down. Not just flying inverted, but with their wings, engines, and control surfaces flipped. This wasn't idle curiosity—I actually attempted to test it by carving crude inverted airfoils from balsa wood in my Faridabad garage and observing their behavior when mounted near a small fan. The results were predictably disappointing, but watching my designs fail taught me more about why conventional aerodynamics work than success ever could have.
That's why I need the Global Engineering RAP—I don't just ask theoretical questions; I try to answer them with whatever limited resources I have. What draws me to this community is the chance to learn how engineers from different backgrounds might approach my unconventional questions. My current environment in Faridabad offers limited exposure to diverse engineering perspectives, especially for someone interested in aerospace concepts that often seem impractical at first glance.
In return, I'll bring my persistent questioning. When a classmate and I were told our science project on airflow visualization was too ambitious for available materials, we improvised with incense smoke and smartphone slow-motion video. This resourcefulness in testing seemingly impractical ideas is what I'll contribute to RAP discussions and projects.
Engineering progress comes from questioning fundamentals, then finding creative ways to test those questions. The Global Engineering RAP offers exactly the diverse perspectives and collaborative environment I need to transform my homemade experiments into more meaningful exploration.
That's why I need the Global Engineering RAP—I don't just ask theoretical questions; I try to answer them with whatever limited resources I have. What draws me to this community is the chance to learn how engineers from different backgrounds might approach my unconventional questions. My current environment in Faridabad offers limited exposure to diverse engineering perspectives, especially for someone interested in aerospace concepts that often seem impractical at first glance.
In return, I'll bring my persistent questioning. When a classmate and I were told our science project on airflow visualization was too ambitious for available materials, we improvised with incense smoke and smartphone slow-motion video. This resourcefulness in testing seemingly impractical ideas is what I'll contribute to RAP discussions and projects.
Engineering progress comes from questioning fundamentals, then finding creative ways to test those questions. The Global Engineering RAP offers exactly the diverse perspectives and collaborative environment I need to transform my homemade experiments into more meaningful exploration.
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