AN OCEAN IN A DROP

 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...

 This is the story of a woman who takes a leap of faith and decides to move to a completely unknown city far away from her comfort zone. This is my story. I have recently moved to a city in a French-speaking region of Canada. I should also mention I do not speak French. Yet. ( Editor's Note: This particular piece of information is needed to comprehend the incident the author is about to share with you. Now, you are all buckled up. ;)  I arrived in the city and could not read a thing. Could not read the signboards. Didn't know how to pronounce where I lived. Didn't know how to carry on a conversation after saying Bonjour. I am learning but I still am not quite there yet. Suddenly, I find myself in a world where I can't do one thing that comes naturally to me. I can not read. Is it difficult? Yes. Is it exhilarating? YES. Have I learnt a thing or two from this exciting struggle? YES ( Wish there was a way to write a YES more capital than the previous one.)   I took a t...

I burnt a pan today. Let me correct myself,  I burnt another pan today. But with a difference,  No one mocked  my incompetence, or yelled at me for a burnt pan. The pan and I smiled at each other and a half an hour long ordeal began. A quest to clean it or to come clean to myself. Maybe all this time,  I was looking for a place  where I could burn my pans in peace and call it Home. -Anshu Rajput

For years I have been hearing “ Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder”. Makes me wonder.. Is it my own beauty that I see around me.. or is the world truly this beautiful? Can I take the “me” out of my experience of Life. For once, I would like to observe the cosmos without being the observer. Is my experience of the world tainted because I exist.. or Is it augmented because of the same. If my existence is dissolved into nothingness before I look at them, would the flowers be as beautiful as they are right now? I think, perhaps, even more magnificent. My experience as a human is limited to what I can perceive and what I can not.  What would you observe if you take the observer out of the equation? - Anshu Rajput

 I was obsessed with helium balloons in my childhood. I used to get excited about buying helium balloons in Melas of my village. Once a balloon was in my hand, my whole world used to revolve around my balloon. That little thing used to be my Sun. It used to light me up. My little miracle. I used to buy a new color every time. Red. Yellow. White. But strangely, all the colors used to make me equally happy. I never got tired of holding a balloon tightly to stop it from flying away. Sadly, despite holding it, tying it to my finger or wrist, and keeping it close to me in the hope that it would stay forever, it still used to slip through my hands. The pain it gave me to see it leave my captivity used to be enough to make me cry. And yet, the beauty it offered in watching it rise in the sky was ineffable. Painful and Beautiful. I used to sit on the terrace and watch it rise until it was invisible. My Baloon! It left me, but it got to fly high, which I didn't get to. At last, I used to ac...

 Hey there! Today I wish to write about all the things gone unsaid in my Samsung notes waiting to be let out. I call it unsaid words to my beloved. I, like most humans, struggle with self-expression but hey... I have this blog. And today I am going to dump all of it here. There it goes-- Hearing a hello from you is like a beautiful happy ending to a very sad movie. I waited for a long time for your love and now I know nothing is impossible. And if anyone suggests otherwise Love, then they don't know the power of Love. You are the person I think of when I watch a sunset. You are my home and I will keep returning to you after a long tiring day. I am with them and yet I feel alone. I am at the right place only when I am with you. I don't know how to tell you how much I have destroyed myself for your memory to survive. I can be anywhere in this world and still be homesick for your arms. Isn't it beautiful what we have or what I have for you? I love you to a point it breaks me.....

I am a mental health advocate and I have a million and very legit reasons to be one. Because why shouldn't one be supporting mental wellness along with physical wellness as a concept of health. I am a mental health advocate because a person acting unhappy and sensitive is called unstable in my society without giving a single thought to the words being said.  I am a mental health advocate because a psychiatrist is called "a doctor for crazy people".  I am a mental health advocate because most of us don't understand that a bipolar isn't something you are, it is something you have.  I am a mental health advocate because a child is the father of the man and sometimes the making of little human is tainted because we don't understand how important every action and every word towards that little human is. I am a mental health advocate because we expect the men of our house to protect and provide and women of our house to nurture the family 24*7, 365 days without losi...