Pradz Sapre
Staff Columnist
Pradz Sapre is a first year in Benjamin Franklin college. His column, titled ‘Growing pains’, runs every other Monday.
Author Archive
SAPRE: Checking my privilege

There are days when I don’t like Rory Gilmore. As a student at a university whose widespread representation as a paradigm of talent and privilege […]

SAPRE: Lessons from nostalgia

On the bottom deck of my grandmum’s teak coffee table, beneath stacks of cloth bags and heaps of used paper, lies a photo album from […]

SAPRE: On intellectual jealousy

My dear fellow Yalie, If you quoted Hume’s “A Treatise of Human Nature” to me in the middle of a conversation, I would not be […]

SAPRE: Sonnets for the soul

Dear reader, before you proceed, I think it fair to forewarn That although my editor did accede  To an idea that was borne From inspiration […]

SAPRE: The perfect essay

Blurred lines, mixed colors, shades of grey: all our favourite metaphors for describing life’s fluctuations rest on our understanding that imperfection is an immutable axiom […]

SAPRE: Cows and camels

The stewardess emerged from the marble walkway of the Taj Mahal onto the winding streets of Agra. The roads were teeming with people scurrying around […]

SAPRE: First-year pride

Nov. 21, 2020 was a move-out day unlike any other in Yale’s recent history.  An emotional sledgehammer struck every first year at some moment in […]

SAPRE: Ode to Joy

“When I was four years old, I was obsessed with trains.” It was with these words, gingerly plucked from an infinite reservoir of English locutions, […]

Missed Connections

A Mindless Mesh To the guy from Sig Ep: Hi. How are you? I hope you’re doing well. We should talk about First-Year Formal. I […]

Music In Schools Initiative expands horizons

Soaring string quartet melodies, manuscripts scribbled with music notes and classrooms full of chattering students are common in New Haven public schools that participate in […]

SAPRE: In pursuit of the perfect goodbye

I remember the week my sister left for college in flashes of memory. A red shopping cart pushed along a Target aisle, the patter of […]