Category: Thoughts uncut

Father’s voice

Bright and beautiful, her mother’s dress flowed around her ankles. Creaseless and ironed twice, it was the perfect addition to her marital glow.

Radiating all kinds of happiness, Bess walked down the aisle, her arm locked in mine. In health and in sickness, I’d stood by her side, supporting her throughout to achieve her dreams and assure her desires—just as I’d vowed.

For twenty-seven years we relied on each other, for breakfast and warm clothes to a shoulder to cry on over heartbreaks and breakups. None other came between us—for I am hers, and she mine.

Until, Richard.

People believe what they will

No two people believe in the same things. Whether it’s lifestyle, philosophy, religion, or others’ behaviour, we don’t all trust the same things. My father, for instance, is a huge believer in idol worship. He never begins an endeavour unless he’s got the blessing from the almighty—which involves visiting a temple and lighting a lamp as an offering, before seeking blessing.

I accompanied him once. I watched as he took solemn steps towards the high-perched, sword-wielding lords, a forlorn look in his eyes and devotion brimming in his heart. My father wasn’t trying to flatter the gods into doing what he wanted. I’ve seen a lot of people promising offers to the lord in exchange for their expectations. But my father wasn’t one of them. All he wanted was to inform the lords about his decision and to wish they’d guide him throughout his quest.

I’m not much of an idol worshipper. For me, it all seems meaningless. But the entire time I observed my father, I neither felt like belittling his faith or trying to sway him into my belief of how unstable worshipping a statue is. Instead, I remained in a state of bemusement, surprised at his resolve.

I didn’t laugh at my father’s practice. That’s in part because I was too scared to offend him, but more so because I had no right to mock his way of doing things. How he chose to live is up to him, and as long as it doesn’t hurt me, it doesn’t have to concern me either.

It later dawned on me that this is the understanding we lack as a society. Perhaps if it had been someone else in my father’s place, I would’ve scorned at them. Perhaps we are all a little like that—exhibiting the irresistible urge to make others agree with us. Displaying courage and the vanity to come out as the better person—the more sane person—we often come off as arrogant and assertive.

That’s why we are so divided. We can’t accept the diversity in us. That’s why we fight, brawl, and war. We should, instead, learn to respect the differences amongst us and live with them. That’s the only way forward to build an equitable society.

Humans are weird

We are incredible in talent, but also stupid and silly and incorrigible all the time.

Including me, of course.

As an individual, I have expectations. I want people to treat me a certain way, speak with respect, listen as I speak, acknowledge when I offer help, and recognise my work when it’s prudent.

It’s a natural tendency—expectations.

But what we often forget is that others expect the same things we expect of them. I’d get angry when someone overshadows my voice during a discussion. However, when I’m doing the talking, I fail to understand that I overshadow others myself.

We get frustrated when our supervisors don’t recognise our efforts, but when it comes to appreciating someone else for the support they’ve offered us, it seems to minuscule to even mention it.

We don’t see the efforts of others as much as we see our own. We overestimate our own importance while underestimating others’. As we shrug it off as unworthy of a mention or consideration, we come off as arrogant and unreasonable.

That’s the killer of relationships. We become condescending, faltering in our ability to notice others and appreciate their favours, devaluing them, and at last driving them away from our lives.

The way we sometimes treat our parents is a good example. Though aware of all their sacrifices, we still brush them away as if it’s their duty. It’s the same with colleagues. We work for the same employer, and each has their duties. Regardless, it’s essential to take a moment to appreciate those who go a step further to fulfil their duties even by making personal sacrifices.

Not only do they deserve it, but they also expect it. I know I would if it were me. After all, I’m human and I’m weird.

Moments to memorise

Our most beautiful moments come when we least expect it. Sometimes, we may spend all our lives searching for happiness and contentment when all the while it’s just round the corner without us realising it.

The reason: we pursue. Our society always taught us to chase life, and to strive to make our own path. To create our own luck, and to forge ourselves the future we dream of. And so we do. We toil day in and out, focussing on the one thing that we think matters the most to us, while we miss out on the small everyday, ever-present, pleasures coexisting with us.

Aiming only for the destination, we fail to appreciate the journey. Serene experiences stem from absolute lack of preparedness. Spontaneous actions, unplanned adventures, bring us serendipitous memories. We don’t always have to create a path—it’s okay once a while to let an unknown path lead us where it may. It’s the unexpected joys of spotting a squirrel or running into a friend that makes any journey worth taking.

When we begin to notice, and let nature influence our course of action, we grow. We learn from the people we meet, the conversations we have, and the coffee we share. And all these occur by allowing things to happen as they do, and not jumping to rash conclusions. For when we are open-minded, devoid of judgement, and fearless to embrace unfamiliarity, we find meaning in this trip called life.

Jobs

I walk to work every morning. It’s a short, yet painful, trudging along uneven paths alongside heavy vehicles and motorbikes that zap by on full throttle.

But I shouldn’t complain. Because every day I see someone who deserves to spend an entire day nestled in a well-furnished, air-conditioned, room pitying himself.

He’s a family man in his late fifties, by the looks of him. I see him quite early in the morning—about 7:30 am—so judging by his eyes, he works all night. His job is to stand in front of a restaurant, wave a baton, and usher ongoing vehicles to stop by for a meal. The restaurant pays him to be their traffic generator.

This hotel is on the national highway (or freeway), and so there are thousands of vehicles—lorries, private cars, motorbikes—passing by every night. And because it’s dark, his baton lights up like Luke Skywalker’s Lightsaber.

It’s his job. It’s fine. It’s tiring, but he gets paid. He stands all night, but he gets paid. It’s a menial job, but it’s only one in many such jobs.

I understand, and so does everyone else who walks or whizzes past him every day. But I don’t understand why he waves to passing vehicles on broad daylight, trying to usher the most unlikeliest of drivers.

Often thinking about him, I’ve concluded he does it out of practice. He’s so used to trying to attract motorists that he doesn’t even realise the futility of waving at bicyclists at 8 in the morning. Sometimes he stands there, swaying half-asleep, yet waving his baton hoping someone would pull over.

No one would pull over.

As I pass him everyday, I see quivering within him a soul that triggers on the border of giving up. It’s as if there’s no longer hope and liveliness left in his bereft life.

I hate my work sometimes, but I don’t hate my job. Though on some days I don’t even feel like going to work, I know there’s always a reason for me to go. Something pulls me forward, encouraging me to keep one foot in front of the other. It’s hard to find motivated days at times, but I know they’re there. Because on a deeper level, I still find meaning in what I do.

He doesn’t.

And seeing him live such a mechanical life, waving his arms like a madman, sleepless, lifeless, and soul-less, puts so many things in perspective. Not everyone has the luxury to do what they’d like. Life thrusts on some of us a fate they wouldn’t even wish on their vilest enemy. It’s the reality of our world, a harsh undesirable reality.

If we realise that, perhaps we’d be more thankful for what we do have.