AN OCEAN IN A DROP

Life has been passing by while I try to put out one fire after another. And yet, I have never felt this close to the little version of myself. Reminiscing about the old days centers me. I don’t remember much, but I’m sure the parts I do remember are the ones that matter most. I remember the mulberry tree in the backyard of our rented one-room home, where every spring filled me with excitement at the promise of juicy black mulberries. I remember the cutest doll someone gave my mother for me, the doll I named Analisa. When I lost her, I had a fever for three days. I remember the bird that died in my arms after hitting the ceiling fan in our veranda. And I remember little me not turning that fan on, even during June, so no other bird would suffer the same fate. I have a vivid memory of the touch-me-not herbs my father planted near our door, and the leaves that every child came to touch. I don’t remember much. It’s been a while, and everything feels like a different life now. But the m...

I am deep cleaning my home because Diwali is almost here. Although I might not live anywhere near my homeland, my homeland continues to live here through me. While I have nearly finished cleaning the kitchen, I have also found a pink building block in the far corner of the bottom of the stovetop. My hand reached for this little pink building block and everything had to come to a standstill for it. A million questions arise in my silly little head. This Pink Building block  Does it belong to a girl because it is pink  Or a boy who was born in a household where he was allowed to like pink  Or did it not make a difference if it was pink? Did the child know how to say the word pink Or has he had to learn it yet? Did he try to reach for it when it fell and had to be stopped Was he sad when he lost it? Or he simply thought, "Oh! the fairies took it because they liked it!" Did he wonder for months about its whereabouts  Or forgot in a day because he had many blocks in his t...

 Darwish says, "  And if happiness should surprise you again, do not mention its previous betrayal.  Enter into the happiness, and burst."  And I add, '' If on a random Friday,  Grief knocks at your door.  Do not abandon him,  welcome him in and nurture him  until he thanks you for acceptance. If you find Anger,  sitting next to you on the couch, do not frown at him. make one extra cup of tea, until he gets up, smiles and says a transient goodbye. If tears stroll down your cheeks, right where there was a lovely smile  only a few moments ago,  Let them flow. Let them flow. Until they cleanse you of your heartbreak." -Anshu Rajput

 "Who am I? Where am I? Where shall I go? Ask yourself these three questions every day." This is the advice I got when I asked someone for advice regarding spirituality. Over time I started asking myself more questions. But one question I ask daily is, "Who am I?". The answer I get is half-cooked, incomplete, and yet better than yesterday.  I am bits and pieces of everyone who touched my life for better or worse. I am the lessons I learned from the mistakes of my mentors. It's almost like I am no longer one person but many in one. I am every book I have ever read, every leaf I have touched. I am also the sensation of sand that I hate so dearly. I am also my fear of letting my thoughts out in the world by writing this.  I am my ability to hold two contradictory thoughts in my head at the same time without going insane. I am my sensitivity that irritates some and fascinates others. What makes a person them? their thoughts? their behaviours? their intentions? their...

 When I was eight and still learning about the ways of this planet, I read somewhere that plants needed a warm and humid environment to grow. Being a smart child with an incredible memory, I remembered it when I saw a tub of hot water. Naturally, my little brain went, "Ooh, this will make my dad's plants grow faster." There I went, ran to my dad's garden with a mug full of scalding hot water and poured it into the nearest plant. My dad, who was watching all this, gasped in total stupor. Unfortunately,  I was too fast to give my old man enough time to respond. (hehe, proud troublemaker smile on my face right now)  While I watched him freak out at my attempted plant murder and ask me what the hell I did, I spoke with my sparkly cheerful eyes, "Papa, I read that plants need a hot and humid environment to grow!" " Budhhu," I heard behind his confused sad face, "Warm! Not hot!" ( He probably regretted sending me to school at this point).  Befo...

 Going to work in public transit is an adventure in itself. In a small city like I live in, you have the sweet privilege of taking the same two buses to work, sitting on the same seats and starting the day with familiar faces of passengers. However, If you are someone like me who sometimes gets late, ( let's say 'sometimes' here.. to make me look good in front of you all) are used to watching the routine break which has the power of either derailing the day or making it even better. On today's episode of Anshu Rajput blabbering her life story, we will hear about one such day.   This week, I missed my second bus. More or less, I saw it leaving in front of my eyes while I ran for it. At times like this, even my Transit card feels abandoned.  Alright, I was prepared with another route which will make me 26 minutes late but hey! At least,  I will make it to the Lab before five! Important information, I have to take one more bus along the way. It's alright! It happen...