N A E E M A H D U D A N
I haven’t replaced my favourite novel, The Great Gatsby, nor have I found something equivalent to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s tortured troubles. But I have found a novel whose title glowed in the aftermath of its words: The God of Small Things.
So often we are engulfed in recollections long forgotten, we fail to vocalize a simple thank you, a genuine smile, or just an appreciative hug.
We seek to find meaning in the larger things in life, often fake, from people who’re motivated by self-interest and ulterior motives. We pride ourselves on extravagant gifts and plastic hearts, rather than on melodious minds and benevolent souls.
I’ve come to realize that in every action and sentence of wisdom, love, or fear, there is one seed of truth. The smallest of human contributions that lights a heart of darkness, warms a meal of kindness, sparks and revives the heart; giving us a fleeting chance of gulping breaths and new-found awakenings.
We need to learn to appreciate a small token of a gift in the form of love letters, dancing hearts of perfect flaws, and comforting words of a beach-bonfire warmth.
We are all caught up in the busy flows of an energetic life, rushed traffic congestions and confusing roadways paved with difficult decisions. We often forget to resonate, to stare, to breathe in the beauty within us and the wonder that surrounds us, and to appreciate the emitting light of the people we share souls with.
For more by Naeemah Dudan, check out her blog.