The coffee that goes first
By Nahrizul Adib Kadri
There is something quietly reassuring about how coffee is served whenever people gather.
It happens so naturally that we rarely stop to think about it. Whether it is during a university meeting, a kenduri, a visit to someone’s home during Hari Raya or even a discussion after Friday prayers, there always seems to be an unspoken order. The guests are served first. The older members of the group are usually attended to before everyone else. Those nearest the coffee pot instinctively help those sitting further away before pouring a cup for themselves. Nobody announces these little courtesies. Nobody pauses the conversation to explain why they matter. They simply happen, almost as though the script never needed to be written.
I have always liked watching those moments, not because they are particularly remarkable, but because they reveal something about the people around the table. Long before anyone speaks about kindness, respect or consideration, those qualities have already appeared in small actions that most of us barely notice.
A cup of coffee reaches someone else’s hand before reaching our own. A chair is offered to an elderly guest. Someone waits until everyone has been served before beginning their meal. The gestures are brief, almost forgettable, yet they quietly shape the atmosphere of the gathering. And perhaps that is exactly why they stay with us.
As Maulidur Rasul approaches, I often find myself thinking about how many of the practices associated with the Prophet Muhammad belong to this same category of everyday habits. They are not extraordinary acts reserved for extraordinary occasions. Many are surprisingly ordinary, actually.
Greeting people before beginning a conversation. Expressing gratitude. Giving preference to guests. Showing respect to elders. Smiling. Dressing neatly and modestly. Speaking gently. They are not difficult to understand, nor do they require wealth, influence or special ability. They simply ask us to be a little more mindful of the people sharing life with us.
I sometimes wonder whether we have become so accustomed to looking for dramatic changes that we underestimate the quiet influence of ordinary habits. We admire grand achievements because they are easy to recognise, yet much of our character is revealed in moments that rarely attract attention.
The way we answer a phone call or reply to a text message (the compulsory “Take care” at the end, for example). The patience we show when someone takes a little longer to explain themselves. Whether we thank the person clearing our table before leaving the neighbourhood mamak. Whether we greet the office cleaner each morning by name instead of walking past as though they are part of the building.
None of these moments will ever become headlines. Yet, when we think about the people who have left a lasting impression on our own lives, they are often remembered for qualities that looked very much like these. They made others feel welcome. They listened without constantly checking their phones. They never made someone feel small for asking a simple question. They remembered names, places, and details only mentioned once. They made room for another person to speak.
Looking back, it is difficult to separate those small habits from the person themselves. Eventually, they become the person’s character (or ‘love language’, if you are into today’s slang).
Perhaps that is one reason ordinary habits deserve more attention than we usually give them. A grand gesture may inspire people for a day, but a small courtesy repeated over many years quietly shapes families, friendships, workplaces and communities. Children notice them without being taught. Colleagues begin copying them without realising it. They spread not because someone delivered a lecture about them, but because someone demonstrated them often enough for them to feel natural.
That thought gives me a different way of appreciating Maulidur Rasul. Rather than asking what extraordinary things I should be doing, I find myself paying closer attention to the ordinary things I may already be overlooking. The opportunities are surprisingly close. They appear in the conversations we have every day, the people we meet on our way to work, the cup of coffee we pour for someone else before pouring one for ourselves.
Perhaps that is how many good habits survive across generations. They are never meant to be spectacular. They quietly become part of ordinary life until one day, without quite realising it, they become part of who we are.
And perhaps there is no better time than Maulidur Rasul to remember that even the smallest courtesies can leave behind a kindness that lasts much longer than the moment in which they were first offered.
The author is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, the Director of UM Press, and the Principal of Tuanku Bahiyah Residential College (KK2), Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my