“I’ll never forget when she looked at me and said, ‘You’re a good grad student.’ That one sentence gave me the confidence I needed to apply to PhD programs at all.”
As U.S. government budget cuts create turmoil in North American graduate schools, we want to highlight WriteIvy students who’ve achieved uncanny success, and whose inspiring stories will inject hope and clarity into this all-too-opaque admissions process. This series aims to celebrate intellectual achievement, explore the barriers that applicants face in various fields, and give proven examples of how to succeed amid increasing competition. As part of this series, we had the pleasure of interviewing Arundhati Tewari.
Arundhati is a PhD student in Environmental Engineering at the University of Pittsburgh, where she investigates PFAS (Per- and Polyfluoroalkyl Substances)—a class of chemicals so stubborn they make glitter look biodegradable. Her research focuses on exposure in under-resourced communities in Suriname (South America) and Ghana (Africa), which basically means she spends her time chasing invisible toxins around the world. Originally from Delhi, she earned her MASc at the University of Toronto and her BTech from Delhi Technological University. In 2022, she was admitted to three top environmental PhD programs—including Cornell and UT Austin. When she’s not elbow-deep in field samples or explaining PFAS to confused relatives, Arundhati moonlights as an amateur photographer, takes food tours in every country she visits, and is driven by the belief that research should serve people—not just sit in a PDF no one reads.
Thank you so much for talking with us, Arundhati! Can you tell us a bit about your “backstory”? What led you to your academic career path?
I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming an environmental engineer, but in hindsight, the path feels inevitable. I was raised in Delhi, where environmental challenges like air pollution, water scarcity, and waste mismanagement were part of daily life. What struck me most wasn’t just the presence of these problems—but how unevenly they impacted people. Some communities had clean water and healthcare; others had neither. That sense of environmental injustice stuck with me.
During my undergraduate years, I worked on grassroots environmental projects and quickly realized I loved research—not just for the scientific discovery, but for its potential to create meaningful change. I went on to pursue my master’s at the University of Toronto, where I deepened my technical foundation and began working on microplastics in drinking water.
Between degrees, I also worked with the Global Water Partnership and the Community of Women in Water, helping integrate gender equity into water management programs across South and Southeast Asia. That experience taught me that technical solutions are only as strong as the communities they serve.
In graduate school, I was introduced to PFAS (Per- and Polyfluoroalkyl Substances)—a class of persistent, man-made chemicals found in products like firefighting foam and nonstick cookware. They’re invisible, often overlooked, and disproportionately impact low-resource communities. That mix of scientific complexity and social urgency pulled me in.
Today, my work sits at the intersection of environmental chemistry, public health, and equity. I study PFAS contamination and exposure in Suriname and Ghana, collaborate across borders, and try to build research that centers people as much as pollutants. It’s work that challenges me—and grounds me—in equal measure.
You said that after growing up in Delhi your path into Environmental Engineering felt inevitable. For those of us who didn’t grow up in dense urban settings, why is it imperative that we too care about this field?
What drew me to environmental engineering—and specifically to my research on PFAS—was the realization that pollution doesn’t impact everyone equally. Growing up, I saw firsthand how environmental harms were unevenly distributed, often hitting the most vulnerable communities the hardest. That imbalance stayed with me.
What truly inspires me is the intersection of science and justice. My work isn’t just about detecting contaminants—it’s about understanding how they move through the environment, who they affect, and how we can reduce harm. Working in places like Suriname and Ghana has shown me that solutions can’t be one-size-fits-all. They need to be context-specific, inclusive, and equitable.
Everyone should care about this field because it touches something fundamental: the right to a safe and healthy environment. The choices we make about chemicals, infrastructure, and environmental policies today will shape public health for generations to come. And the kicker? We’re all exposed. PFAS aren’t just in industrial waste—they’re in your nonstick pans, your waterproof jackets, your takeout containers. That “forever chemical” coating on your cookware? It can literally kill you.
We need science that’s not only technically sound, but also socially grounded. That’s the kind of science I’m working toward—and that’s the kind of science we need to build a healthier, more just future.
How do you envision your future career or your research making the world a better place?
I see my future career as one that bridges the gap between science and the communities it’s meant to serve. My hope is that my research doesn’t just sit in academic journals but actually informs real-world decisions—whether that’s helping governments create more effective chemical regulations, supporting safer infrastructure design, or empowering communities to demand accountability and action.
I want to continue working internationally, especially in under-resourced regions, to co-develop solutions that are both scientifically sound and socially just. Whether it’s through environmental monitoring, policy engagement, or public communication, I want my work to make it easier for people to live without fearing the invisible chemicals in their water, homes, or food.
Ultimately, I think science should be a tool for justice—not just discovery—and I hope my career reflects that.
Lab Difficulties, Encouraging Mentors, and Why We Should Read History
Can you share a story of a challenge you faced or observed in Environmental Engineering and how you overcame it? This could be something personal, or it may relate to large-scale issues like how government budget cuts are affecting people in your field.
One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced in my work on PFAS is simply getting the samples analyzed. PFAS detection requires highly sensitive instrumentation, which is expensive, often centralized in high-income countries, and out of reach for many researchers and communities in the Global South. When I was collecting samples in Ghana and Suriname, shipping them to labs with the right capabilities became a logistical and financial nightmare—navigating customs, permits, cold chain requirements, and delays that could jeopardize the integrity of the data.
What made it even more frustrating was knowing that people in these regions are often facing the highest risk from PFAS exposure—yet they’re the ones least equipped to study or address it. That’s when it really hit me: this isn’t just a scientific challenge—it’s a justice issue.
To overcome this, I documented every step of the sample shipping process—from packaging and labeling to dealing with customs forms and brokerage requirements—so that future researchers, especially those in similar under-resourced settings, wouldn’t have to start from scratch. That knowledge-sharing has become a quiet but crucial part of my work.
It’s just one example of how PFAS research—and environmental science more broadly—can’t be divorced from structural inequalities. Tackling “forever chemicals” means more than publishing papers; it means fighting for the tools and systems that let all communities protect themselves.
None of us are able to achieve success without some help along the way. Is there a particular person or teacher who you are grateful towards who helped get you to where you are?
I owe so much to the people who believed in me—especially during times when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself.
One of them is my undergraduate research supervisor at Delhi Technological University. I’ve known him for nearly a decade now. He gave me my very first opportunity to work in a lab when I was still figuring out what I wanted to do. He didn’t just teach me research techniques—he taught me how to think like a scientist, how to stay curious, and how to keep showing up even when experiments failed. He’s the reason I fell in love with research in the first place. And to this day, he always has my back. I must’ve pestered him for recommendation letters for every scholarship and application under the sun—and even after all these years, he still says yes. He turns them around within a day, without hesitation. That kind of unwavering support is rare, and I don’t take it for granted.
Another person I’m deeply grateful to is my head TA from an analytical chemistry course during my master’s at the University of Toronto. I came into that class knowing almost nothing about making graphs or formatting data. I was the first one at her office hours every week, just trying to catch up. Over time, she became a mentor. When I faced challenges with my supervisor and couldn’t get a recommendation letter for PhD applications, she stepped in. She believed in me and wrote one of the most important letters of my academic life.
I’ll never forget when she looked at me and said, “You’re a good grad student.” That one sentence gave me the confidence I needed to apply to PhD programs at all. She’s now an assistant professor at the University of Alberta, and I’ll be forever grateful to her for seeing potential in me when everything felt like it was falling apart.
Is there a particular book, class, or lesson that made a significant impact on you? Can you share a story or explain why it resonated with you so much?
One book that has profoundly impacted me is Life and Death in Shanghai by Nien Cheng. I first read it during a particularly difficult time in my life, and it changed the way I understood resilience—not as a buzzword, but as a lived, quiet, often painful act of survival.
Nien Cheng was a successful, highly educated woman who was imprisoned during China’s Cultural Revolution. She spent more than six years in solitary confinement, accused of being a counter-revolutionary, all the while refusing to make false confessions. While enduring relentless interrogations and physical suffering, she discovered that her only daughter—her world—had died under suspicious circumstances, likely murdered.
What struck me most wasn’t just the scale of her loss, but the grace with which she held on to her truth, her dignity, and her intellect. She reasoned with her interrogators. She mourned deeply but refused to become bitter. There’s a moment in the book where she finds solace in something small but profound: watching a spider in her cell spin its web again and again, even through the brutal winter. When she felt broken, that spider reminded her that life, in its smallest forms, finds a way to persist. That image has stayed with me—resilience not as defiance, but as a quiet, persistent reaching toward life.
As someone working in a field where progress can be slow, setbacks are common, and you’re often trying to make visible what others would rather ignore, I draw strength from stories like hers. When I’m navigating fieldwork challenges, bureaucratic delays, or even doubt, I remember her. I remember that clarity, grace, and persistence matter—even when no one’s watching. Especially then.
I’ve found myself drawn more and more to historical books for that reason. They are full of people who endured unimaginable circumstances and still carried on—with courage, creativity, and conviction. History is rich with quiet heroes, and every time I pick up one of their stories, I’m reminded that resilience isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it looks like a woman watching a spider spin a web in the dark, choosing—over and over again—not to give up.
[Editor’s Note: Arundhati’s literary insights here are exquisite. For those interested in similar books, you might check out Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien, or on a more comic note, Brothers by Yu Hua.]
PhD Admissions, Supervisor Difficulties, and STEM Writing
Oh wow, we could talk about books for days, Arundhati! Let’s plan to do that sometime. For now though, let’s jump to the primary focus of our interview: grad admissions. In your experience, what was the biggest obstacle you faced—or that you think others face—in applying to degree programs in your field?
In my experience, one of the biggest obstacles I faced while applying to PhD programs was not being able to get a letter of recommendation from my master’s supervisor. In environmental engineering, where research experience and supervisor support are often seen as cornerstones of a strong application, this felt like a huge setback. I had spent years doing research, but due to a strained relationship—marked by mismatched expectations and a lack of communication—I couldn’t ask him for a letter. He refused, and honestly, it made me question whether I should even apply.
At the same time, I was going through one of the most difficult periods of my life physically—I had suffered a serious spinal injury that left me nearly bedridden and, at one point, almost wheelchair-bound. There were weeks when I couldn’t sit upright, let alone do lab work. The combination of physical immobility and academic rejection made me question everything: my abilities, my belonging in academia, and whether the work I had poured myself into even mattered.
But instead of giving up, I asked myself: Who else has really seen my work ethic? Who’s seen me show up when things were hard? The person who came to mind was my head TA from an analytical chemistry class at the University of Toronto. I was always the first to show up at her office hours, asking for help with graphing, data analysis, or just trying to wrap my head around concepts that didn’t come easily to me. She saw how hard I was trying—even when I doubted myself—and when I asked her for a letter, she didn’t hesitate.
To strengthen the letter even more, she had it co-signed by the professor of the course—someone who also knew me and could speak to my academic integrity and work ethic. That letter ended up being one of the most important parts of my applications. It helped me get into multiple top PhD programs and land a research assistant position at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München (LMU), Germany—opportunities that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.
So if you’re applying and find yourself in a similar position—lacking a “key” recommender—my advice is: don’t panic, and don’t give up. Look for the people who have witnessed your growth, your effort, your resilience. Titles matter less than sincerity. Sometimes, the most powerful recommendations come from people who’ve seen you rise—not just succeed.
That experience has stayed with me, and it’s shaped the kind of researcher and mentor I want to be. I try to be the person who sees potential in others—even when they can’t yet see it in themselves.
You really achieved a special kind of success—what do you think was the most important thing that helped you accomplish this?
Honestly, I think the most important thing that helped me succeed was keeping my eyes and ears open—and saying yes, even when the opportunity seemed small or outside my comfort zone. So many pivotal moments in my journey started with something that didn’t look like a big deal at the time: volunteering for a side project, applying for a short-term fellowship, or attending a seminar that wasn’t directly related to my work. Each of those small steps quietly built into something bigger.
I never saw myself as the smartest person in the room, but I’ve always been willing to show up, ask questions, and learn—whether that meant picking up a new method, reaching out to someone I admired, or taking on a task others passed up. That openness has led me to incredible mentors, unexpected research directions, and collaborations I never would’ve imagined.
In a field that can often feel intimidating and competitive, I’ve found that curiosity, humility, and a willingness to try often go further than perfection. And over time, that mindset has opened more doors than I could’ve planned for.
What was the most difficult thing about writing your application essays? Or, what do you think other applicants really need to know about these essays?
Even though I’ve written a lot of essays for fellowships and scholarships since then, it was the grad school application essays that really gave me the practice I needed. At the time, the hardest part wasn’t the actual writing—it was crafting my story in a way that felt honest, purposeful, and clear. You have to really zoom out on your life and ask: What led me here? Why does this matter to me? And then somehow fit that into a one-page limit!
It was a process of remembering the things that shaped me—fieldwork moments, mentors, challenges—and trying to connect them into a coherent path. And let’s be honest, sticking to the word limit was half the battle. I rewrote my essays over and over just to say more with less.
But looking back, that process was invaluable. It taught me how to reflect deeply and write tightly—skills I use all the time now when applying for fellowships, research grants, or travel awards. Those essays were frustrating at the time, but they gave me a toolkit I still rely on today.
Were any WriteIvy articles or resources particularly helpful for you?
Yes—WriteIvy’s PhD Starter Kit was incredibly helpful for me. It broke down the entire application process into clear, manageable steps, and gave me a much better sense of what top programs are actually looking for.
But honestly, what helped me even more was getting to directly interact with Jordan. He took the time to really understand my story and help me frame it with honesty and confidence. There was something so grounding about his approach—he didn’t try to make me sound perfect, just real. That made all the difference. His feedback helped me turn personal setbacks into a compelling narrative, and that gave me the clarity (and courage) I needed to move forward with my applications.
[Editor’s Note: This makes me smile so hard, but Arundhati gets all the credit for her remarkable work ethic and ferocious attention to detail. Learning to accept tough criticism is a skill, and undoubtedly a key reason why Arundhati is such a great scientist.]
You don’t know how happy that makes me, Arundhati! After this whole process, do you have any advice for future applicants that should probably seem obvious…but isn’t? Can you think of any aspects of the application that might be more important than they seem at first?
One thing that seems obvious—but really isn’t talked about enough—is this: your advisor matters more than the name of the school. They will shape not just your research, but your entire grad school experience—academically, professionally, and emotionally. I can’t emphasize this enough: do your research on potential advisors. Read their papers, sure—but also look them up on RateMyProfessors, reach out to their current or former students, ask about lab culture, mentorship style, and funding. You’re not just joining a program—you’re joining a person.
And if you’re applying for a PhD, email potential supervisors before you apply. This isn’t optional—it’s essential. I only applied to programs where I’d had some kind of informal interaction with a potential advisor. I sent personalized emails to over 70 professors, heard back from around 8, and ultimately applied to 5 schools. It’s time-consuming and, yes, a little soul-crushing—but it’s so worth it. These conversations helped me figure out which labs were actually taking students, who felt like a good mentorship fit, and what kind of support system I’d have if I joined.
Also: don’t get caught up in prestige. I was accepted to some incredible programs, including Cornell, and it took me a while to let go of the pressure to choose the “big name.” Most of the advice that helped me came from Reddit threads—people being brutally honest about how choosing a supportive advisor over a brand-name school was the best decision they’d made. I ended up choosing the University of Pittsburgh, and it’s been the best possible outcome. I have an advisor who supports me, I get to do work I genuinely care about, and I’ve had opportunities to travel for conferences, present internationally, build collaborations, and even meet scientists whose papers I’d admired since undergrad.
And here’s something that becomes clearer the longer you’re in academia: the scientific community is actually really small. Even if you don’t end up at a top school, you’ll very likely cross paths with researchers from “fancy” institutions. You might collaborate with them, co-author papers, or sit next to them at conferences. Those connections will open doors later on in ways you can’t always predict.
Most importantly, I’m happy. And in a PhD, that’s what gets you through—the people, the support, the work that fuels you—not the name on your email signature.
So yeah—chase the research, not the brand. Find your people. And don’t underestimate how helpful anonymous strangers on the internet can be when they’ve been through it too.
Arundhati’s Environmental Engineering PhD Statement of Purpose
[Editor’s Note: Arundhati’s SOP might be the absolute best I’ve ever had the pleasure to read. It’s as close to “perfect” as we can possibly get, and a magnificent object lesson for future applicants in any academic field.]
As a volunteer mathematics teacher to young girls in a slum on the outskirts of Delhi, I noticed one or another of my students always missed class. The reason was always the same: the absence of clean drinking water in their homes. It was these girls’ responsibility to collect potable water from the community tap shared by at least 100 households. They stood in long queues, walked long distances, and faced the daily threat of unspeakable illness (and sometimes, tragically, death) from dirty water. I had never experienced this myself, but those empty seats in my class had a profound impact on me: I soon became singularly passionate about addressing water-quality issues amongst underserved communities.
My scientific curiosity swelled when I was introduced to water and wastewater engineering during my sophomore year of undergrad, and peaked one year later while working with Dr. Anil Kumar Haritash on the development of hybrid-Fenton technologies for the degradation of pharmaceuticals in wastewater. With my country struggling to provide safe drinking water to 700 million people living in over 1.5 million villages, acute shortages and degradation of water quality will inevitably trigger migrations, sociocultural resentment, urban-resource pressure, and conflict. Ultimately, it is the women and children such as those I taught in Delhi who will bear the brunt of this dilemma.
As I contemplate how to improve circumstances for these women and children, specific questions arise: How can we enhance our understanding of the fate and transportation of anthropogenic contaminants in aquatic systems using various analytical techniques? How can we develop cost-effective and sustainable remediation technologies for treating such contaminants? In the future, I hope my work can have immediate societal benefit by informing public policy guidelines specific to these questions, and this is precisely what I plan to address in the Ph.D. program in Civil and Environmental Engineering at Cornell University.
One key draw to Cornell is Dr. Damian Helbling’s expertise in aquatic science focusing on the fate and transportation of contaminants of emerging concern (CECs), particularly per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS), and developing novel remediation technologies such as adsorbents using cyclodextrin-based polymers. Further, an anchoring aspect of his work is that it can make contributions to water quality guidelines and be used by industries to implement alternative water treatment technologies to manage such CECs. His research uses environmental analytical chemistry to study anthropogenic organic contaminants, and this aligns perfectly with my interests. I believe my experience using analytical equipment (such as mass spectrometers) to analyze trace organic contaminants including PFAS, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs), and organophosphate flame retardants (OPFRs), in various environmental matrices, qualify me to contribute to Dr. Helbling’s lab.
Dr. Matthew Reid’s Ecological Engineering Laboratory is equally fascinating, due to his focus on developing sustainable and cost-effective materials to address water-quality problems. One of his projects studies development of iron-impregnated biochar for the removal of trace metal(loid)s, which is particularly relevant in the context of developing countries, especially the Indian subcontinent, where 350 million tons of agricultural waste are generated every year. I believe I would be a great fit for either the Helbling Research Group or the Reid Lab.
My academic background, I feel certain, has prepared me for these research contributions. I hold a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Engineering from Delhi Technological University, where I consistently ranked among the top 2% of my class. At DTU, I acquired a strong grounding in environmental engineering theory and participated in research projects in India and abroad. I gained data-analysis skills with MATLAB, R, and Minitab, sifting through data in a time-efficient manner, working independently in wet laboratories, and conducting extensive literature surveys. I was fortunate to work at several world-class research institutions, including the University of British Columbia and the Indian Institute of Technology – Bombay, where I engaged in multi-disciplinary work, from preparing sustainable plastic composites to designing an automated air sampler to collect methane.
I have further developed my research interest as a master’s student at the University of Toronto, with a fellowship from the Department of Civil & Mineral Engineering. Here, courses such as Physical and Chemical Treatment Processes, Biological Treatment Processes, and Advanced and Sustainable Drinking Water Treatment have been vital. They taught me the theory and application of physical, chemical, and biological operations and processes for the treatment of water and wastewater; risk assessment for emerging contaminants; and advanced drinking water treatment processes such as membrane technology and oxidation processes. In Analytical Environmental Chemistry, I used both suspect and targeted screening to analyze classes of known organic toxicants in various environmental matrices, such as sediment, water, and biota. The course was crucial to my understanding of the theory and operation of nuclear magnetic resonance (NMR) spectroscopy, gas chromatography with mass spectrometry (GC-MS), and liquid chromatography coupled with tandem mass spectrometry (LC-MS/MS).
Furthermore, I honed my independent research skills in the Drinking Water Research Group at U of T. My thesis focused on harmonizing research into microplastics, a relatively new contaminant. I developed a standardized methodology to create microplastic stock suspensions in environmentally relevant size ranges (<20 μm) that can be used in various aspects of research, such as quantifying the recoveries of sampling equipment used in drinking water studies, assessing the removal of microplastics by water-treatment plants, and toxicological studies. Working with the DWRG taught me persistence, adaptability, and troubleshooting. I gained key lab skills, like operating the Raman microscope, Fourier-transform infrared spectrometer, atomic absorption spectrometer, TOC and DOC analyzer, and UV/Vis spectrophotometer.
Upon graduation from Cornell, I intend to bring my knowledge and abilities to underserved communities in developing countries like India, which, while being a signatory to the Stockholm Convention, does not regulate contaminants such as PFAS. Through my work as an environmental research scientist, I shall contribute to the department’s conceptual and regional diversity by adding India to the list of regions for aquatic-science research. One of my deep-seated aspirations is to form a consortium of American and Indian engineers to broaden the field of study for American researchers and practitioners, while simultaneously broadening the knowledge base of Indian engineers.
Ultimately, I hope to add to the university’s mission by marrying a social cause with an environmental one. If through my research I can contribute to a future where no girl in that Delhi slum misses class to fetch water, then I will have become a true Cornell emissary, carrying forward the school’s mission of pursuing new lines of thinking, and effecting change at local and international scales.
4 Things Arundhati Thinks Every Student Should Know About Grad Admissions
1. Email potential advisors—before you apply.
If you’re applying for a PhD, this step is non-negotiable. You’re not just applying to a university—you’re applying to work with a specific person. I emailed over 60 professors, heard back from 8, and ended up applying to 5 schools. Don’t send a generic email—make it personal, show that you’ve read their work, and ask clear questions. It’s exhausting, yes—but it saves time, money, and heartbreak later.
2. The “perfect” recommender is the one who knows you—not the one with the fanciest title.
When I couldn’t get a letter from my master’s supervisor, I turned to a TA who had seen me work hard, grow, and show up consistently. That letter, co-signed by the course professor, became one of the most important parts of my application. Go where the sincerity is.
3. Use free mentorship and support programs—they’re life-savers.
There are incredible programs designed to help students like you—especially those from underrepresented backgrounds. I highly recommend: Letters to a Pre-Scientist, ScholarMatch, and WriteIvy – Jordan’s feedback transformed how I told my story. These communities exist to remind you that you’re not doing this alone.
4. Rejection doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means you’re in the arena.
You will hear no’s. Everyone does. But one rejection—or ten—doesn’t erase everything you’ve worked for. Grad admissions are messy, subjective, and full of factors beyond your control. What is in your control: the story you tell, the connections you build, and the belief that you do belong in this space.
Changing the World and Future Plans
Are there any particular types of students whom you’d like to inspire? What advice would you give them?
I especially want to reach students who’ve had discouraging experiences with supervisors—those who’ve been overlooked, unsupported, or made to feel like they don’t belong in academia because of one person’s opinion.
To those students, I want to say: you already belong. The fact that you care, that you’re curious, that you’re even thinking about applying—that’s powerful. You don’t need a perfect CV or elite connections. You just need your story, your values, and the courage to share them.
Coming from India, I know how easy it is to internalize the idea that opportunities only exist for a certain kind of student—from a certain kind of school, with a certain kind of advisor. And to be honest, environmental engineering wasn’t even considered a “big deal” during my undergrad. It was often seen as less glamorous or impactful than other disciplines, and certainly not as lucrative. Many people around me saw it as an underpaid, second-choice field—and I was made to feel that more than once.
But I stuck with it because I believed in the work. I believed that clean water, healthy air, and environmental justice were not side issues—they were foundational to everything else. And now I get to research contaminants that affect real communities around the world and contribute to solutions that matter.
So if you’ve ever felt like you didn’t have the right background, the right connections, or the “right” kind of mentor—you’re not alone. There’s space in academia for voices like yours—especially because your perspective is different. And that difference is your strength.
My advice? Take up space. Apply anyway. Ask the question. Send the email. And when things feel overwhelming, remember: you are not alone. Your future mentors, collaborators, and cheerleaders are out there. You just have to start looking for them.
You are an unusually talented person. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good for the greatest number of people, what would that be? You never know who you might inspire.
Thank you—that’s such a generous thing to say. If I could inspire a movement, I think it would be centered around scientific access and environmental equity—specifically, making environmental data and research tools more accessible to communities who are most affected by pollution but least equipped to respond.
I’d love to see a global movement where scientists, engineers, and researchers actively partner with underserved communities—not just to collect data, but to share knowledge, co-design solutions, and advocate for policies that actually reflect the lived experiences of those on the front lines of environmental harm. Imagine if every school, village, or neighborhood had access to real-time air or water quality data, and the training to understand what it means. Imagine if communities didn’t have to wait years for governments to validate their concerns.
I think we often underestimate how much knowledge and leadership already exists in these communities. A movement like this wouldn’t be about “giving” them anything—it would be about building trust, removing barriers, and amplifying the voices that have been ignored for too long.
Because at the end of the day, science should be in service of people—and the people who are most impacted should never be the last to know, or the last to be heard.
How can our readers further follow your work online?
https://www.modelnglab.com/people.html
Is there anything else you’d like to add that we haven’t already covered?
You don’t need to have it all figured out to apply. You just need curiosity, drive, and a little faith in your own weird, wonderful story. Grad school isn’t about being flawless—it’s about being real, being willing, and showing up for the work, even when it’s hard.
Also—take breaks when you can. Hydrate. Romanticize your late-night Google Scholar rabbit holes. And when you’re writing your SOP, picture it like you’re crafting your origin story—because you are.
P.S. I don’t really believe in “work-life balance”—if you love your work, it becomes part of your life. Not something you escape from, but something that fuels you. There’s life with your work, and life without it—and I’ve learned I prefer the one with.
And yes, if a recommender bails on you… it’s not the end. The best letters come from people who actually see you—and that will always carry more weight than a fancy title.
Thank you so much for these fantastic insights, Arundhati! You’re a treasure, and we greatly appreciate the time you spent on this.
Key Takeaways
Arundhati’s generosity here has been astonishingly inspiring to us, and we hope it’s just the same for you. Her commitment to science “in service of people” is guided by a hearfelt ethos that should be a beacon for everyone in STEM. At WriteIvy, we often emphasize the importance of articulating a purpose with “broad social impact,” but after hearing Arundhati’s thoughts, that emphasis seems sorely inadequate. Today, we’re happy just that Arundhati, and researchers like her, exist in the world.
Future applicants should take note:
- “If you’re applying and find yourself…lacking a “key” recommender…don’t panic, and don’t give up… Sometimes, the most powerful recommendations come from people who’ve seen you rise—not just succeed.”
- “[The SOP writing] process was invaluable. It taught me how to reflect deeply and write tightly—skills I use all the time now when applying for fellowships, research grants, or travel awards.”
- “I can’t emphasize this enough: do your research on potential advisors… You’re not just joining a program—you’re joining a person.”
- “I only applied to programs where I’d had some kind of informal interaction with a potential advisor. I sent personalized emails to over 70 professors, heard back from around 8, and ultimately applied to 5 schools. It’s time-consuming and, yes, a little soul-crushing—but it’s so worth it.”
- “…at the end of the day, science should be in service of people—and the people who are most impacted should never be the last to know, or the last to be heard.”
Want to read more interviews with grad students who’ve overcome the odds to achieve awesome things? Click here!
