The ANiiTHING BLOG

The winter snow blanketed the road in front of me as I patiently waited under the shelter of the bus stop. A shuttle was scheduled to pick me up following the completion of my intercontinental journey. I made a call and was told that someone would come to pick me up. And so I waited. And waited. I gnawed at my patience little by little until it was just space.  I saw a vehicle approach and stop next to me. I hastily climbed in as I struggled to lift my baggage. So heavy were my suitcases that an old woman offered to get them on the shuttle for me despite her visible inability, which momentarily thawed the ice on my heart and person.  The driver asked me what my destination was. I gave her my answer, but she couldn't understand. I told her again, but she still couldn't understand.  Embarrassment overtook my weak body as I spelled it out while all the people in the vehicle and those waiting to board behind me stared at me with a sharp focus. She said that she didn't know th...

The other day, I watched a video about sulfur mining in East Java, Indonesia. The video shed light on the heartbreaking, harsh reality of miners whose lives dangle as they do their very best to support their families. As I do with any video, I scrolled through the comment section to read the thoughts of others. Most people commended the brave efforts of the men and criticized the government. While I was engrossed in reading the string of comments, I came across one specific comment that left a sour taste in my mouth. At first glance, the comment seems inoffensive. It does appear that it was written in good faith. But there's something not quite right. The commenter's intentions were in the right place, but his execution was off. "These workers are real men" is what I'm talking about. On the surface, the comment looks good-hearted and appreciative, but it does something significant quite subtly. It perpetuates the toxic belief that a man is a real man only if he pu...

I stood shyly as I propped open the door for a guy who was talking to my roommate about his pursuit to rent a car and get to the airport to collect his luggage. When their conversation finally came to a close, the guy asked me if I would join him for a game of basketball the next day. I, as awkward as could be, told him that I’d let him know the day after. He said that I could tag along with my roommate, who was also going to the game. The answer I gave him implied that there was a chance I could make it to the game, but it meant “no” in my language. Deep inside, I wanted to openly reject his offer. However, being the people-pleaser I am, I did not want to disappoint him. After all, he invited me to grab a coffee and even gave me a donut . But, there’s more behind why I gave him a vague, unconfident answer. Sports hasn’t always been my thing. I was never a sporty kid, and my experiences with partaking in sports over the years have done me more harm than good. I could’ve straight-up s...

My brother and I still fight despite our six-year age gap. He's in high school, and I'm in college, yet he bullied me an hour ago for my bottom-of-the-barrel gaming skills. I love him, though. I love him despite the fact that he tried to stab me with a knife when he was in the first grade. My brother was the center of attention right from the moment he came into the world. His pre-teen years are ones for the history books. Wherever he went, he made everyone his slave. His chubby cheeks, button eyes, and cute smile could make the most stone-cold of hearts turn into mush. That strong was his charisma and adorableness. He could do the most insane things and get away with them. I'm surprised I didn't get mad at him despite the countless stuff he did that would drive the average person absolutely nuts. I was certainly more understanding then than I am now. Talk about maturation. I vividly remember him throwing my prized Hot Wheels collection from the balcony. A few kids cele...

What has always fascinated me about foreigners fascinated by Indian culture is the sheer positivity and interest with which they talk about Indian weddings. Don't get me wrong, Indian weddings are like no other. The intricate rituals, the vibrant colors, the gorgeous decorations, the fattening food, the oceans of people....it's beautiful.  However, everyone has a limit, especially if you're not really social like me. I'm lowkey terrified of large crowds, so Indian weddings aren't suitable for me. Attending a wedding once in a while is fine, but with time, things can get pretty exhausting. Unlike Western weddings, Indian weddings go on for DAYS. They're really long, and that's sugarcoating it. They may seem like fun to outsiders, but if you're an intense Indian introvert like me, oh boy. The most draining part of a wedding is introducing yourself to all the people attending the event. Most of them know who you are. Meanwhile, you don't even know they ...

Bustling was the atmosphere during the gathering of friends. Spirits soared high and tireless voices fueled by youth beamed into the surroundings and livened up the blandness of the mechanical world, barring a few unchangeable aspects. Ice cream was given to us. French onion chips were given to us. To contribute to the existing lightheartedness of the moment, showing a friend, I dipped a single crisp in a small amount of melted vanilla and put it in my mouth. Amusement or laughter was what I had expected, but those were not delivered to me despite my subjection to a seemingly repulsive but surprisingly okayish flavor profile. Given to me was a face of serious disgust along with a hand pointed to my face that posed the question of whether I was sane or not. As I tried to get over the failure of my mission, the spectator of my fruitless act had his switch abruptly flipped over and decided to have a go at what he had sternly questioned two minutes ago. His tongue was well-receptive to the...

When the little kid was inquired about his favorite color by a group of same-aged boys who sat in close proximity to him, he said "Pink!" in an enthusiastic voice tinged with the purity of a child. Quickly were the expressions of the boys soured once the words of the kid entered their ears and soaked into their brains. "Pink?! That's for girls!" said the head of the group with a level of unadulterated disgust that seemed much beyond his body and years. His followers mindlessly echoed his sentiment, cackling like a clan of spotted hyenas fighting over a day-old carcass. The little kid's heart wavered and wavered, ultimately falling out of his chest and shattering into innumerable fragments like an expensive porcelain bowl striking the strongest alloy. This was only visible to the child and me. The boys' eyes that had evolved differently blocked out the sight like nothing. Their eyes were blind to certain things. Their skins were sensationless to certain t...