What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
There is a question
people ask very casually.
.
Almost playfully.
.
As if they’re tossing a pebble
into a quiet lake
and expecting
a very small ripple.
.
They never suspect
the pebble reaches the bottom.
.
The funny thing is
the question itself is simple.
.
Tiny, even.
.
Just a few harmless words
floating politely in the air.
.
But somehow
those words expect
my entire day…
my thoughts…
my strange little routines…
to stand in a neat line
and introduce themselves.
.
And that is where
things become difficult.
.
Because my days
don’t stand in neat lines.
.
They wander.
.
Some mornings begin with tea
and a thought that refuses to leave.
Some afternoons disappear
inside a sentence
that is trying to become something.
.
Sometimes I read.
Sometimes I stare at the sky
like it forgot to finish a story.
.
Sometimes I watch people
doing very important things
very quickly
for reasons
nobody seems to remember.
.
And in the middle of all this
someone eventually asks
.
“What do you do all day?”
.
Ah.
.
There it is.
.
The question.
.
The one that expects
a tidy answer.
.
Doctor.
Teacher.
Engineer.
Business.
.
Nice answers.
Respectable answers.
.
But life rarely behaves
that neatly.
.
So I smile.
.
I give a smaller answer
than the truth deserves.
.
Because the real answer
would take stories.
.
It would take wandering thoughts,
curious observations,
and a little bit of everyday magic.
.
The truth is
.
I spend my days
noticing life.
.
Collecting its quiet moments.
.
Turning them over in my mind
until they become words.
.
And honestly?
.
For something that sounds
so difficult to explain…
.
I enjoy every minute of it. ✨
.
—Rajeshwari🧿💕
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