Anshu Tomar

Artist, Consultant, Educator/Teacher, Global soul, Idea generator, Life mentor, Parent, Writer/Editor

Anshu Tomar, a dedicated Senior English Faculty at VidyaGyan School, brings 17 years of teaching expertise to her role. With advanced degrees in English, Education, and Psychology, she is also a CBSE resource person. A passionate traveler, Anshu enriches her classroom with captivating storytelling drawn from her journeys. Her commitment to emotional well-being inspired her to establish ATMAN, a center focused on embracing emotions rather than labeling them as disorders. Outside the classroom, she enjoys reading, Netflix, cooking, and gardening, finding a deep connection to nature that fuels her sense of purpose and connection to the divine.

Nature, History fascinates me and Mental Health is close to my heart.

Fragrances are not gendered by origin!!

From Rita Pierson’s Talk to TEDx: A Manifestation Memoir I still don’t know what to call it — The TED Story? The TEDx Saga? The Tale of a Talker? Words fail me sometimes, and that’s saying something, considering I’m an English teacher with a rather dramatic flair. But today, as I sit down to pen this part of my journey — from discovering Miss Rita Pierson in a staff room full of sleepy teachers to becoming a full-blown TEDx organizer — I realize this isn’t just a story. It’s a destiny unfolding. With a mic in hand and madness in the mind. Flashback to 2012 — my second residential school job. Our principal walked in one staff meeting and played "Every kid needs a champion" by Miss Rita Pierson. I still remember leaning forward in my chair thinking, This woman is speaking my language! The laughter, the emotion, the honesty — wasn’t this what we did in classrooms every single day? Just without the camera crew and applause? I came home — where the Wi-Fi was more “why-try” — and with our faithful old 2G network, I began Googling: What is TED? Who started this? Can just anyone be a speaker? How do I get in? Trust me, asking these questions in 2G was an act of faith. That night, a quiet desire took root in my heart — the kind that doesn't shout, but simmers. One day, I told myself, I’ll stand on that red circle. Not with a script, but with a story. Years passed. I discovered something humbling: I may have a flair for speaking, but writing — oh writing — that’s where my soul truly stretches out. I struggle for words when I speak. But give me a blank page, and suddenly I’m Shakespeare meets Shashi Tharoor. My thoughts pour faster than my chai. Fast-forward to 2020. COVID. The world hit pause. I hit play. Locked in a flat with a view of school walls and only my daughter for company (who quickly assumed the role of tech boss, life coach, and emotional support system), I decided to treat the lockdown not as confinement, but as the sabbatical I never applied for. Books, balcony sunsets, and broadband, finally faster than 2G, became my new best friends. And then, TED came knocking again — in the form of a Masterclass for Educators. Aha! I thought. The dream lives! I signed up. Spoke into a camera. Got feedback. Got a certificate. Smiled proudly. Destiny, I believed, had just cleared its throat. Then came 2023. An email blinked in my inbox — Applications open for TED-Ed Student Talks. I stared. Blinked again. What in the holy acronym is this now? I read. I re-read. I gasped. I could create student speakers? This was gold! Without telling a soul (because all good stories need a suspense element), I applied for the license. And then I waited. Fingers crossed. Breath held. Four months later, destiny knocked again — this time, with approval. I broke the news to my principal and director like a plot twist in a Bollywood movie. And then, the real drama began — identifying students, grooming them, polishing ideas, writing drafts, re-writing drafts, and watching magic unfold. On May 3, 2024, our school hosted its first-ever TED-Ed Student Talks, and I watched each child take the stage like a phoenix rising. It was our collective win. But remember that quiet 2012 desire? It hadn’t left. It was still there, sipping chai in a corner of my mind, whispering, “You still haven't stepped into the red circle.” So I did what anyone would do — Googled again: How to become a TEDx speaker. Turns out, I needed a nomination. That dream felt like trying to get picked for Koffee With Karan without any scandals. So I thought — if I can’t speak at a TEDx, let me host one. And thus began the license saga. I applied. Rejected. Tried again. Rejected. Again. REJECTED. By now, even AI thought my email was a virus. But I wasn’t giving up. I recruited our advisor. We used his ID like a forged passport. And finally — BAM! — approval. January 3, 2025: License granted. April 30, 2025: Event hosted. Audience? Spellbound. Speakers? Stellar. Me? Sobbing, smiling, learning. Was it perfect? No. Could it have been better? Absolutely. But as I say — mistakes are just edits in a draft you’re still writing. So I took 360-degree feedback, roped in ChatGPT as my co-writer, and created a master document of learnings — or as I like to call it: “Feed-forward.” What’s next? A bigger, better TEDx event. What’s still waiting? That speaker slot. (Just saying, Universe.) But this chapter — this “TED” story — is a tribute to manifestation. You become what you believe. You manifest what you think. You attract what you radiate. If you’re constantly aligning your thoughts, actions, and words with your deepest desires, the universe eventually yields. It has to. So if you’re reading this and dreaming of something — speak it, write it, live it. Because as I tell my students: You are not just a person. You are a walking, talking energy. And energy never lies.

Cooking, writing and driving.