I wasn’t moving, no. But my body definitely was. The crowd on the metro platform pushed me along, much to my irritation. Each one of us was in a different phase of life. Employees rushing to make their morning meetings. Students desperate to meet attendance requirements. Friends and lovers setting out to explore the city.Each one of us was fighting a different fight. But today, at this very moment, we shared a common goal: to secure a spot on the train.God forbid we’re late by a few minutes; the world might just end. For a country that’s so obsessed with being in a hurry, we sure are late everywhere. The irony is truly lost on us.As I stepped onto the train, fighting for dear life, I couldn’t help but wonder – “What’s the point?” A question that has plagued generations, though in different forms (think Nietzsche, Sartre and the other greats). Now, I’m not putting myself on the same pedestal as these generational thinkers. My earphones had died…and well, I was left alone with my thoughts.I began to think about how we’re all just stuck in the same rut. Classes. Degrees. Jobs Meetings. Living from one weekend to the next. Grateful that we have a weekend to distract us from the dreary routine of corporate life.What was the point of this endless loop? I couldn’t say.Stations went by, and people hopped on and off. Doors opened, doors closed.And amidst the chaos, I discovered a constant – Love. Not to be cliché, but I truly was surrounded by love.A young mother held her sleeping baby close, carefully guarding his little body from every jolt of the train. She had fought for a seat, not for herself. But so that her child wouldn’t feel even the slightest discomfort.An elderly man spoke softly into his phone. His son, probably away at work, was patiently explaining where to get down and how to reach the apartment. The old man nodded along. He was confused, but he knew his son was just a call away.A group of flower sellers huddled together, their baskets of jasmine and roses spread out at their feet. By the end of the day, their baskets would be empty. Flowers woven into garlands, tucked into braids. Quiet symbols of love and warmth.Maybe this is the point. The small, unnoticed moments of love that keep the world from falling apart.And just like that, the question faded. No, not because I had the answer. But because for this small moment in time, it didn’t really matter.Sankhya Ravi is a self-declared existential thinker and publicly acclaimed cat mom.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.