There is a powerful comfort in routine, about structuring your day around the familiar, which gives you a sense of control over your daily activities. Finding an anchor in routine offers us an insight into the stability of that world.
Every morning around 7am, ST, my husband, rides his trusty motorbike to Arul's roti canai stall less than one kilometre away from our house. He doesn't sit there to eat but brings his favourite food back to eat at home.
Arul knows his order. ST doesn't need to ask. Three pieces, two with eggs and the other plain and crispy. ST enjoys the light conversation with Arul - simple exchanges that give a sense of connection, of being human, of compassion for each other's hidden struggles.
When I hear our gate open and ST returning with his prized roti canai, I prepare coffee for two. His, without sugar, and mine is filtered coffee with milk.
I have never visited Arul's stall but I know quite a bit about him through my breakfast conversations with ST.
One morning, Arul was not at his usual spot and ST returned with three packets of nasi lemak instead. He looked a bit concerned, and several possibilities for Arul's absence ran through his mind.
There are other roti canai stalls in town but ST would only buy from Arul. The Arul effect is inexplicable. Perhaps it has to do with his rapport with customers. ST just likes the way Arul speaks Malay with a smattering of English which is so down-to-earth Malaysian.
They talk about real-life experiences laced with humour so that waiting time passes quickly while the roti canai pieces turn crispy on the hot plate. Isn't that a wonderful human connection?
On the third day, Arul resumed his business and greeted ST with a grin. I believe ST was just too glad to see him again. Arul had gone to attend to some personal commitments. ST reported to me that Arul was back. I could see that ST was genuinely relieved and happy. Sometimes life can be simple like that - feeling content that a routine is made whole again.
What surprised me was how this simple morning ritual gave structure to formless days. Arul isn't related nor could he be categorised as a friend. Yet unknown to him, Arul somehow shapes ST's day giving him a reason to go out and experience the morning's fresh air and providing a scaffolding for his entire day.
Then it struck me that simple joys of human connection can do a man as much good as a grand celebration or a luxurious outing. Maybe even better as the latter requires stamina and, for older men, energy is at a premium.
Without these little engagements with our fellow human beings, life can seem banal, or even performative. I had watched a recent video on how robots today can dance on stage, do somersaults, and virtual friends are discerning of how you're feeling. This advancement of AI is scary for the future of human existence because I believe people need the human touch to stay human.
The routine, the mundanity, the minutiae of daily chores - these aren't noticed or applauded online, but they do give groundedness to your day. And life can be made beautiful and glorious not by the ways we differ from others, but through regular sincere and humble connections with people we meet everyday.
