When I woke up today morning, I was lying in a mess of my books, laptop, clothes, biscuits, chips, juice bottles and a lot of others things which shouldn’t remain on the same bed when someone’s sleeping on it. I had slept at 5 a.m. in the morning, reading ferociously through a book, without any consciousness of food, water or the changing colour of the skies outside. At 5, I lay down for a minute, to contemplate what I had read till now, and without realising it, I fell asleep. And just that way, without any alarms, I woke up at 9 in the morning and resumed the novel right away, without getting fresh or having food or switching on the lights. I got up only after I had finished the book late afternoon.
It was one of the most content night and day I had spent in ages. And in all that overflowing exuberance, I realised that the things that give you the most of happiness, are the smallest of such things. I’m not saying that the small things matter the most, they might not matter so much to everyone. The bigger things, your job, your boss, your career, and where exactly your life is going – they all form the greater bigger landscape, but these small things are like the colourful flowery patches dotted along it, which make the landscape so beautiful and so much worthwhile to see.
I remembered it was a similar, yet a very different April exactly a year back, when I had started writing this blog. A blog might not mean a lot to most people, but to me, it was this small thing that made me immensely happy, though for a timebeing. The happiness I got from writing one insignificant article made me happy, and carried me through till the time I wrote the next one. An entire year has now passed away, and I remember every article I wrote, every small patch of flowers, yet the landscape mesmerises me, a giant profile, huge yet hazy.
So here I am, dedicating this post to all those small things in my life. To the small plant I water every morning, to the 2 year old kid on the bus who once held my finger in his fist, to the pizza delivered to my doorstep when I’m mad and hungry, to the boring cricket matches seen along with a bunch of friends, to lying on the ground covered with purple flowers in Lalbaugh, to the 400 bucks t-shirt I bought for my brother, to the 45 minute talk with mum on a saturday morning, to the small pleasures associated with thinking of all this now, and to writing this one article in April 2011…