The Lamp That Didn’t Compete

In a quiet village called Pappireddipatti taluk, there was a small thatched-roof house with minimal comforts,

Yet, it was a home filled with joy and peace.

    On that fine night, I lit a small oil lamp and placed it on the windowsill.

     Across the street stood an electric light mounted on a tall post, glowing brightly through the night.

I moved my eyes between the electric light outside and the oil lamp inside my home,

Something flickered within me.

The earthenware lamp needed oil to give light, its flame fragile and dependent, whereas, the electric light burned effortlessly, strong and constant. 

      As I travelled through these thoughts, the power dimmed, slowly, quietly, and within minutes, shut down completely. 

   The whole village was wrapped in darkness and a sudden rain poured heavily .

The hushed atmosphere filled with the sound of rain. 

I turned my gaze toward the oil lamp, 

It stayed there, almost chuckling at me. Its soft trembling flame danced to the rhythm of the wind.

 I went and stood near the oil lamp, its warmth drew me closer.

Memories surfaced,

When oil lamps helped us read our lessons and meals were cooked under the gentle glow.

   That night, darkness was dispelled by this small oil lamp, not by power.

   In my lingering thoughts,  it offered a quiet lesson. 

 It was meant to light the space, where it was placed,

and never meant to defeat the darkness everywhere. 

Moral:

Never measure your worth by shining louder.

Even a quiet light has a purpose.