the price of triviality


There are times when our seemingly trivial weary routines amid the grinding of everyday life suddenly begin to appear incredibly priceless.

After an extremely tiring and stress filled week-long night-out at work, go home early, have a good dinner, and in the warm silence of home, stand next to your bed. Pause, and gaze at your pillow. And you’ll know the bliss of sleep.

You are seated in a second class coach of a train traveling in the heart of North India in the middle of April, and your train halts for a whole day at a sticky hot remote village due to some snag. After a day’s wait when you finally get home, step into your bathroom. Pause, and look at the bathtub full of water. And you’ll know the rejuvenation of bath.

You are new to a place and staying at a lodging. Next morning you learn it’s a bandh and all hotels and shops are closed. After languishing in hunger for all day, that evening, a lone hotel nearby opens. Walk in, order an idli. Pause, and look at the idli. And you’ll know the value of food.

You crib every morning to your spouse on how he/she doesn’t keep anything where they are meant to be kept and how things go missing because of such carelessness. Let your spouse go on a trip to a far off place for a month. Everything seems to be in its place now. But there’s still a lot of something missing. And you’ll know the sweetness of those mornings.

You eat a 25 rupee South Indian meal every afternoon in your office canteen, and keep ranting on the need for a change of food. And then you happen to go to another country with no sight of rice. After a month of eating sundry foods you finally get to a hotel that serves rice. Order it. Pause, and look at the plate full of rice. And you’ll know the value of those 25 rupee South Indian meals.

How often we take presence for granted and wait for a loss to appreciate the presence! Home wasn’t built in a day!!


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