By Nahrizul Adib Kadri
Today is Thursday, and like every Thursday, I am wearing batik.
It is a small gesture really, one that might even seem routine or symbolic. But for me, it is also an act of awareness. A way of saying to myself, “This day matters.”
The simple act of dressing with purpose does something to the mind. It shifts the posture of the day. It reminds you that you are part of something larger — in my case, the public service, a community bound not only by regulations and duties, but by shared rhythm and quiet pride.
I have come to believe that how we begin the day shapes what the day becomes. If we wake reluctantly, drag our feet, and treat the morning as something to survive rather than greet, the hours ahead often mirror that energy. But when we start with awareness — with the decision to treat even an ordinary Thursday as significant — the world tends to respond in kind.
This is not about superstition. It is about attention.
Rumi once wrote, “Wear gratitude like a cloak, and it will feed every corner of your life.” That line has always stayed with me. Because gratitude, like batik on a Thursday, is not just a feeling. It is something you put on. Something visible, deliberate, chosen.
Each day, we are given countless small chances to act with intention. The way we greet someone. The tone we use when replying to an email. The moment we decide to pause before reacting. These choices seem small, but they add up. They become the quiet architecture of our lives.
Sometimes, I think of a scene from Khaled Hosseini’s “The Kite Runner”. The one where Amir, the narrator, describes kite running with his friend Hassan: how in that frozen moment before a kite falls, there is no sound but the wind. That silence, that deep attention, feels like a metaphor for awareness itself. The world narrows to what matters most. Everything else fades.
We do not live in kites and wind, of course, but the idea remains: to live consciously is to be present to what is in front of us. To notice it. To shape it with intention.
In a world that moves at the speed of notifications and deadlines, this is harder than it sounds. We rush from one task to another, half-listening, half-seeing, half-living. We survive, but we rarely arrive.
To greet each day as if it is important is an act of quiet rebellion against that drift.
It means dressing not for vanity, but for presence. It means showing up not out of habit, but out of awareness. It means carrying yourself with the dignity that says, “I am here, and this matters.”
When we live like that, even the ordinary begins to glow a little. Meetings become network opportunities. Conversations become life lessons. Thursdays in batik become reminders that the mundane can still be meaningful.
I have noticed that on days I dress with care, I behave differently. My posture straightens. My tone softens. I move through the day not as a passenger, but as a participant. The act itself does not change the work, but it changes how I approach it. And that difference often changes the outcome.
We underestimate how much of life depends not on what happens, but on how we meet it. When we treat the day as trivial, it often passes unnoticed. But when we treat it as a stage for something worthwhile, no matter how small, we begin to shape it rather than be shaped by it.
There is a kind of quiet confidence that comes from this mindset. Not arrogance, but steadiness. The kind that does not need external motivation because it is self-generated. The kind that says, “Even if no one notices, I will still do this well.”
In many ways, this is what awareness really means. Not just noticing what is happening, but choosing how to meet it.
So, every Thursday when I put on my batik, I remind myself that I am not just following a rule. I am participating in a rhythm that connects me to others, whether colleagues, citizens, strangers. It reminds me that service, in whatever form it takes, begins with intention.
Yes, it is a small thing. But small things, done consistently and consciously, become the backbone of a meaningful life.
Rumi also said, “What you seek is seeking you.” I take this to mean that when you approach the world with care, the world responds in kind. When you greet the day as important, the day finds ways to become important.
So tomorrow, when the alarm rings, start by noticing. Notice the sound of morning traffic outside. Notice the weight of your steps on the floor. Notice that you are here — still part of this long, imperfect, miraculous story.
Dress with purpose. Speak with kindness. The world may not change immediately, but you will.
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my