Tag: inspiration

Judge Not

We’re all always judging others. We take one look at people and pass decisions. Attire, attitude, or anything in between, could make us roll our eyes and drop our jaw.

I do it quite a lot, too. When I see someone hailing a cab, for instance, for a distance they could cover in public transport, I raise eyebrows. They’re the cause for jammed roads and blocked walkways. And yet, today, when I took a long-distance cab, I requested my driver to drop me at the doorstep. I could have just walked from the street to my door — that’s what I always do — but I’d had a bad day and was too distraught to walk that little distance.

That’s when I wondered. How would’ve I reacted if it had been someone else? The painful realisation: I would’ve raised eyebrows and shaken my head in disapproval.

Sometimes, it’s just too easy to assume. It’s too easy to brand someone as lazy, selfish, or arrogant. What’s difficult, though, is understanding their situation. We expect others to sympathise with our problems before naming us names. But when the table turns, when we have to understand someone else’s situation, we’re seldom willing.

We think first impressions make the best, but we forget that anyone could have a bad day. We think second chances don’t make a difference, but they mean the world sometimes.

Today, I learned a lesson: never judge a person on the first encounter. We could be correct, but we could also be in the wrong. Because we’d never anticipate who’d surprise us when.

And Bob Marley said it best:

Judge not

Before you judge yourself.

Judge not

If you’re not ready for judgement.

Yes, I’m Hopeful

It’s almost Christmas and the New Year’s a few days away. High hopes all around; people are beyond nervous anticipation— 2017 should be better.

I’m no different. It hasn’t been the best year. But it hasn’t been the worst year either. It’s been stormy, wet, and dull. But I’m expecting the sun to rise up and the flowers to bloom.

waiting-for-the-flowers-to-bloom

The Task of Gift-Giving

It’s my mother’s birthday. For weeks leading to today, I wondered what present I should get her. It wasn’t easy figuring it out.

flowers

My dad’s birthday falls at the end of the week and I know he’d appreciate the book I got him. He’s always said he wanted it.

My mother, on the other hand, never says what she wants. And so I had no idea. I wanted to gift her with a surprise, but I didn’t want to stick to age-old conventions of wall hangers, posters, or ornaments that collect more dust than memories. I wanted to give her something that she’d use every day, something that would make her smile when she looked at it, and something she’d cherish on a day-to-day basis.

It was a nice thought, but I couldn’t think of any such thing.

I don’t know what my mother likes because she’s never told us what she likes. Even in my earliest memories, my mother’s always been the kitchen figure, with a floured nightgown and butter-covered fingers. Thanks to her I grew up knowing I needed baking powder for baking. Because of her, I developed a passion for artisanal cooking. And she who taught me to treat the kitchen as a place of worship. But everything she ever made in her kitchen was for us. Sure, she’d have a couple pastries, but even when she’s unwell, she’d push her boundaries to make our favourite food.

I didn’t think there ever was anything that’d justify my reverence.

So I asked her, instead. From past experience, I knew she’d only want something for the kitchen or our home. She’s never once wanted anything just for herself.

This year was no different. She asked for a lunch box to pack meals for my dad. I got her that lunch box, chiding her all the way. But then I also got her a pair of soul-comforting soft-soled slippers. Her feet has seen so many bad days, and no one deserves pampering more than mom.