My Journey with Tennis 

I first picked up a tennis racquet when I was nine, inspired by my elder sister’s matches at school. Having always been athletic—running sprints, long jumps, and trying different racquet sports—I found tennis natural, almost instinctive. My coach, however, was quick to notice my unorthodox style. He focused on refining my forehand, backhand, topspin, and serve, ensuring that raw talent was matched with discipline. What I loved most, though, were not the drills but the matches. Every Thursday and Saturday, our academy hosted a “mini-championship” of thirty-two players. Without fail, the finals came down to me and my closest rival, a friend who pushed me to my limits. To challenge us further, our coach placed us in higher divisions, and by the age of eleven, I was competing in U-12, U-14, and even U-16 tournaments. But alongside my progress, another challenge was growing. I had been born with Palmoplantar Keratoderma (PPK), a rare skin condition that thickens and cracks the palms and feet. For years it was dormant, but with hours of training each day, the strain became unbearable. I remember finishing a weekend tournament, putting away my racquet, and noticing blood on my hands. The fissures grew so painful I sometimes couldn’t even hold a pen. A dermatologist confirmed my worst fear: there was no cure. To protect my education and daily life, I would have to give up competitive racquet sports altogether. At eleven, the passion that had defined me was suddenly slipping away. For months I tried to scale back, playing only occasional matches, but the pain made it impossible to continue. Accepting this reality was one of the hardest decisions I’ve faced. What followed, however, was just as important as the loss itself. Through treatment, my hands gradually healed, but more significantly, I began to see that the values tennis instilled in me—resilience, strategy, and the will to compete—were not confined to the court. They could be carried elsewhere. I redirected the same discipline I once applied to hours of training into academics, research, and leadership.Now, with a pen in my hand, I pursue economics and finance with the same determination I once brought to every match. Tennis taught me that success is not defined by the arena, but by the mindset carried into it. On the court I learned how to adapt, how to endure, and how to push beyond limits—qualities I now bring into the classroom, my research, and my vision of a future career in business and finance.