Beyond the Screen: A conversation with Akshit Parmar on Purpose, Leadership and Building Impact

 What if Every Aspiration was Curated to be a Successful Nobel Cause?

If you've ever wondered whether ambitious people wait for the right opportunity before they begin, this conversation might make you think differently.

People with purpose do not always search for the perfect starting point, they begin with the right intention and allow the journey to shape what comes next. Our next guest’s journey reflects this across AI, entrepreneurship, student leadership, social impact, and education. From building an AI-based Student Mental Health Predictor to leading student initiatives and now stepping into teaching, Akshit Parmar has consistently explored how ideas can become meaningful action.

Joining us today is Akshit Parmar, a young builder, educator, and changemaker who believes that the projects people see are only one part of the story. Behind every achievement lies the purpose, discipline, and intention that made it possible.

Let's dive into a conversation about building before feeling ready, responsible innovation, leadership, and finding purpose beyond recognition.

1. You began building AI projects and entrepreneurial initiatives while still pursuing your Cambridge A Levels. What convinced you that you didn't have to wait for a college degree before starting to build?

What convinced me was not that I suddenly felt qualified. It was the realisation that waiting to feel completely ready would probably mean never beginning at all.

When I first started exploring artificial intelligence, I assumed that serious work belonged to people with degrees, industry experience, or years of technical expertise. But once I began working on actual projects, I noticed something important: the problem in front of me did not care about how old I was. It only cared whether I was willing to understand it, test an idea, fail, and improve.

My Cambridge A Levels have given me a strong foundation in mathematics, physics, and computer science. However, academics usually present you with a clearly defined problem and ask you to solve it. Building is different. You first have to determine whether you are solving the right problem, whether anyone genuinely needs the solution, and whether your idea can survive outside your own imagination.

That process changed the way I viewed education. I stopped seeing learning as something that had to be completed before action could begin. Building became part of the learning itself. Every project revealed something I did not know, and those gaps gave me a clearer direction than simply completing another course or waiting for a future qualification.

I do not believe a college degree is unnecessary. I am looking forward to the depth, exposure, and discipline that higher education can provide. I simply do not see a degree as permission to start.

Starting early is not about pretending to know everything. It is about being willing to learn publicly, make imperfect attempts, and accept that your first version may be far from impressive.

The biggest shift for me was when I stopped asking, “Do I know enough to build this?” and began asking, “What will building this force me to learn?”

2) Your Student Mental Health Predictor combines machine learning with a real-world problem affecting students. How do you balance technological innovation with the ethical responsibility that comes with developing AI tools related to mental well-being?

Working on a Student Mental Health Predictor taught me that, in sensitive areas, building an accurate model is only one part of the responsibility. A technically impressive system can still be harmful if its results are misunderstood, treated as a diagnosis, or used without proper context

The predictor identifies possible risk patterns and generates a wellbeing score based on the information provided. However, I am very careful about what that score represents. It is not a medical conclusion, a label, or a judgement about a student. It is intended to encourage early reflection and help students recognise when they may need additional support.

One of the biggest ethical challenges is avoiding false certainty. Mental wellbeing is complex, personal, and influenced by factors that cannot always be captured through data. A false negative could make someone believe that everything is fine when it is not, while a false positive could create unnecessary fear. That is why the output should never be presented as an unquestionable answer. In mental-health-related AI, a confident wrong answer can be more dangerous than no answer at all.

Privacy, bias, and language are equally important. Students may be sharing deeply personal information, so such data must be handled with extreme care. The model must also be examined for whether it interprets students from different backgrounds, environments, and communication styles fairly. A wellbeing score should never become a permanent label attached to someone.

Students receive recommendations based on the patterns identified, but these recommendations are meant to guide them towards healthier actions and appropriate support, not replace counsellors, psychologists, teachers, parents, or trusted adults. Technology can help recognise signals and make support more accessible, but empathy, judgement, and care must remain human.

For me, balancing innovation with ethics means being willing to limit what the technology claims to do. The goal is not to make AI appear more intelligent than it is. The goal is to make it useful without allowing its confidence to exceed its understanding.

3. In one of your LinkedIn posts, you wrote that many students don't actually want opportunities, they want the idea of opportunities. What experiences led you to that conclusion, and what separates students who genuinely grow from those who remain spectators? 

It's not one incident that led them to that conclusion. It's from seeing the spark of interest fade when there's no more action that feels like fun.

The pattern I observed during the construction projects and working with the student teams was recognized. Initially, there was a lot of interest in joining. They enjoyed the vision, the name, the opportunity to do something good, and the publicity that could bring. However, when the effort involved in making the correct answer was ignored, revised back and forth, not sure what it should look like, not sure what to say, or not sure if anyone was going to know, that good feeling sometimes went away.

It was at that point I started wondering about whether people wanted the opportunity or just what they thought it would be like.

Ambition is commonly expressed in its most obvious forms—the launch, the award, the announcement, the position, or the successful outcome. When we're honest, we don't show the middle. The part where you're not progressing quickly enough, part where your ideas are rejected, part where you make mistakes in public, part where you have to keep going for a long time and you don't know if it's going to be worth it.

I don't believe our students are lackluster or unpromising. Many just think that it's easy to take something seriously, but in reality it costs a lot in both emotional and physical aspects. Desire and commitment are two distinct things.

I've found myself doing this as well. Ideas that I've been excited about more than the amount of work that I needed to do to make them happen. From experience, I learned that commitment is not the amount of inspiration that you have when you start. It is gauged by what you do after you get used to it.

It is not always the case that the loudest, most talented, and most confident students are the ones who are growing. They are those people who can take it when they're inexperienced without excusing themselves for it. They ask questions, accept feedback without taking it personally, own up to their mistakes and keep on doing. They wait around for some time to feel important. It's not easy for builders to start at first, and it may initially seem awkward, repetitious, confusing, and even humiliating.

I also don't think that passing up all of the opportunities is a weakness. The best thing to do is sometimes to walk away. The trouble starts when we wish to be ambitious but do not embrace the discipline that ambition requires. The difference I have now is that if the excitement, the title, the applause and the visible reward were taken away, would the work be worth doing?

Most opportunities are not obvious opportunities at first sight. They appear as though they are due to be taken on as a responsibility.

4. Many students spend years collecting certificates before they feel "qualified" to create something of their own. Looking back at your journey, how important has learning by building been compared to learning through formal education?

I have collected plenty of certificates myself, so I understand why students chase them.

Certificates give you something clear. You complete a programme, receive recognition, and feel that you have moved one step forward. They can introduce you to new subjects, people, and opportunities. But I eventually realised that sometimes I was collecting proof of learning more quickly than I was actually testing what I could do with that learning.

Building changed that.

When you create something of your own, there is no one waiting to certify that you are ready. There is no fixed syllabus, no answer key, and no guarantee that your effort will lead to a successful outcome. An AI model can work technically and still solve no meaningful problem. An initiative can sound impressive and still fail because the execution is weak. You can spend weeks on an idea only to discover that nobody really needs it.

That kind of experience is uncomfortable, but it is also honest.

Learning by building has forced me to recognise the difference between understanding something in theory and being able to use it in the real world. I have had to learn technical concepts because a project required them, but I have also had to learn things that no course could have taught me in the same way—how to communicate an unfinished idea, deal with uncertainty, work with different kinds of people, make decisions without complete information, and accept when something I believed in was not working.

Formal education still matters enormously to me. My Cambridge A Levels have given me a foundation in mathematics, physics, and computer science, along with the discipline to study difficult ideas properly. I do not believe building should replace education. But I also do not believe education should become an excuse to postpone building.

In academics, you are often given a problem and asked to find the correct answer. When you build, you first have to ask whether you are solving the correct problem at all. That has probably been the most important difference for me. Certificates can show that you participated, learned, or performed well within a particular structure. Building shows what happens when that structure is removed and you have to take responsibility for the outcome yourself.

So, learning by building has not necessarily been more important than formal education, but it has been more transformative. It has made my strengths clearer, exposed my weaknesses faster, and taught me to stop confusing preparation with progress. The difference, for me, is simple: certificates often made me feel more qualified. Building made me more capable.

5. Artificial Intelligence is making it easier than ever to build products quickly. Do you think the real competitive advantage today lies in technical skills, identifying meaningful problems, or understanding people? Why?

I do not think the competitive advantage lies in choosing one of the three. Technical skill, identifying meaningful problems, and understanding people are all essential. Remove any one of them, and the product becomes weaker. AI has made it much easier to build quickly. Today, you can generate code, design interfaces, analyse information, and create a working prototype in a fraction of the time it once took. That is a huge advantage, but it can also create a false sense of capability. Being able to produce something does not automatically mean you understand it, that it works reliably, or that it should exist in the first place.

Technical skills matter because you must understand what you are building. AI can assist with code, but it cannot take responsibility when that code is inaccurate, insecure, biased, or unreliable. Without technical depth, it becomes easy to create something that looks impressive on the surface but falls apart when tested properly. Identifying a meaningful problem matters because speed can easily be wasted. You can now build the wrong product faster than ever. A solution may be innovative and technically complex, but if the problem is not real, important, or urgent enough, the product has very little value.

Understanding people is what connects the problem to the solution. People do not use products simply because the technology is advanced. They use them when they trust them, understand them, and feel that they fit naturally into their lives. A builder has to understand not only what people say they need, but also how they behave, what they avoid, and what might stop them from adopting a solution.

I have seen the importance of this combination while working on both AI projects and student-led initiatives. A good idea can fail because the execution is weak. A technically strong product can fail because nobody truly needs it. And even the right solution can fail if the people it is meant for are not understood.

For me, each element answers a different question:

Can we build it properly?
Is it worth building?
Will it genuinely work for people?

Technical skill answers the first. Problem identification answers the second. Understanding people answers the third.

So, I do not believe the future belongs only to the best programmer, the most creative problem-solver, or the person with the greatest understanding of human behaviour. It belongs to people who can bring all three together. AI is reducing the difficulty of execution. It is not reducing the need for judgment. If anything, it is making judgment more valuable—because when almost anyone can build, the real advantage is knowing what deserves to be built, building it responsibly, and ensuring that it creates value beyond the screen.

6. You've explored entrepreneurship, AI, and student-led initiatives at an early stage. How has working across different domains changed the way you define success beyond traditional academic achievements?

Working on products, leading teams, and trying to turn ideas into something real has completely changed what achievement means to me. For a long time, I understood progress mainly through marks, certificates, positions, and results. They are clear, measurable, and easy to explain. You either achieved them or you did not.

But real work is rarely that simple. I have learned that something can look successful from the outside and still be weak underneath. A technology project can function perfectly but solve nothing important. An initiative can attract attention but fail to create lasting value. An event can be completed successfully while the entire team remains dependent on one person.

That is no longer the kind of success I want. When I build technology, the result matters only when it is useful, responsible, and designed for the people who will actually use it. A working model alone does not impress me if the output cannot be trusted or applied meaningfully.

When I work on an idea, I care less about how exciting it sounds and more about whether it survives reality. The real test begins when people have to use it, support it, pay for it, or continue believing in it after the initial excitement is gone. Leadership has probably changed my perspective the most. Earlier, I believed leading successfully meant making sure everything was completed. Now, I believe a team has truly succeeded when people begin taking ownership, making decisions independently, and becoming stronger because they were part of the process. If everything collapses the moment the leader steps away, then the leadership was never as effective as it appeared. These experiences have also made me less afraid of imperfect outcomes. Not every project has to become a major success to be valuable. Some ideas teach you what not to build. Some failures expose weaknesses that praise would have hidden. Some experiences matter because they change the way you think, even when they produce nothing impressive to display.

Academics are still important to me. They have taught me discipline, depth, and consistency. But I no longer believe that a grade can fully represent someone’s ability to create, lead, adapt, or contribute. I now measure progress through the value created, the responsibility taken, the people developed, and the person I become while doing the work. Marks and awards tell part of the story. They show what I achieved.The work itself shows what I learned to carry.

7. Young builders often struggle with balancing ambition and patience. How do you decide when an idea deserves deeper commitment and when it's simply an experiment worth learning from?

Earlier, I used to think that believing strongly in an idea meant staying with it for as long as possible. Over time, I realised that persistence and attachment are not the same thing. I usually begin by treating an idea as an experiment. I build the simplest version I can, test the core assumption, and observe what happens outside my own excitement. That stage is important because almost every idea feels promising when it exists only in your head.

An idea earns deeper commitment when the problem continues to feel real, people respond to the solution, and each setback reveals a clearer path forward. Progress does not always have to be fast, but there should be some evidence that the work is moving—better feedback, stronger understanding, improved results, or growing interest from the people it is meant to serve. I also pay attention to the nature of the difficulty. Some ideas are difficult because they are ambitious and require patience. Others are difficult because the basic assumption is wrong. The first kind of difficulty deserves persistence. The second demands honesty.

Working on projects has taught me not to confuse effort with value. Spending months on something does not automatically make it worth continuing. Sometimes the most mature decision is to reduce the scope, change direction, or stop entirely. Continuing only because you have already invested time is not commitment; it is attachment to the past. At the same time, I try not to judge ideas too early. Meaningful work often develops slowly, and an idea should not be abandoned simply because the first version fails or the response is not immediate. The important distinction is whether the failure is teaching me how to improve the idea or repeatedly proving that the idea should not exist in its current form. I now commit deeply when three things remain present: the problem still matters, the learning continues, and there is evidence—however small—that the solution can create value.

8. Imagine speaking to a sixteen-year-old student who believes they need more experience before they can innovate. Based on your own journey, what would you tell them about taking the first step, embracing uncertainty, and building before feeling ready? 

I guess I would begin by telling them something that they will probably not want to hear; they are not experienced at 16. I was also, and still am in many respects. But you don't just sit in inexperience until it says to you "it's time". The majority of experience has been gained from doing something before you are fully aware of how to do it.

I didn't start building as a result of having a clear plan and as a result of having way more than enough information. I felt I started with some ideas that I was interested in and attempted to take the next logical step. I began and realized my lack of knowledge in certain areas. At times, I had to learn about something technical. Occasionally the concept was not as strong as I had thought. The actual problem wasn't necessarily the product, it was communicating with people, gaining their trust or being consistent.

It was much more helpful than just saying, “I need more preparation,” as it was now clear to me what I needed to work on improving. I believe that most young people think that if they're going to do something to start off their business, it has to be spectacular. It does not. It may be a rough prototype, a discussion with a person impacted by the issue, a small project in the school, or even a foray that is not successful over a few weeks. The first try isn't meant to show that you are standout. It's to provide you with something substantial to learn.

Age may be a problem for some that won't take you seriously. They may have a point to call you into question at times, particularly if you've not done the work necessary to earn their trust. A young idea is not necessarily significant, and enthusiasm can't compensate for incompetence. This is why it is important to begin early, but don't rush the work. It involves starting on the ground floor, seeking assistance, mastering the basic principles, taking constructive criticism, and doing a better job, every time you do it.

I would also tell them that all projects don't have to be a company, an award winner, or a success story. Some will let you know just that the idea wasn't good enough. You will learn from others that you don't like to work as much as you thought. That information is still useful. I am still learning things through the things that I build and I don't feel ready every time I start building a new thing. I just took the phrase "ready when you're ready" to mean what it says. Do not go too big. Take it seriously. Allow the experience to show you what you don't know and then learn to get better. It's possible that you won't be in the mood when you start. That is normal. Just be sure to be more capable when you're done.

About Conversations by Brains in You

Conversations by Brains in You is a curated interview series featuring students, professionals, entrepreneurs, creators, researchers, and changemakers whose journeys offer meaningful lessons beyond conventional achievements.

Rather than focusing solely on titles or milestones, each conversation explores the decisions, experiences, challenges, and perspectives that shaped the individual behind the profile. The aim is to create a growing repository of practical insights that help students and young professionals navigate their own careers with greater clarity, productivity, integrity, and purpose.

Every featured conversation is thoughtfully selected with the belief that authentic experiences can inspire informed decisions, lifelong learning, and better human development.