'The Best Isn't Always Special'

The Best Isn't Always Special 

You know, the world has a weird obsession with the word “Best.” As if there’s a universal rulebook defining what that “best” must look like, cost like, or feel like. But let me break it to you — The Best isn’t always the Best.

What’s a diamond to someone who craves warmth over sparkle?

What’s a five-star dinner to someone who just wants a plate of maa ke haath ka daal chawal?

Let’s go back to the golden era of life — childhood.

Remember those birthday parties? With balloons stuck on the wall using cello tape that could barely hold their breath? When your mom invited the entire “mohalla,” including that one aunty you couldn’t stand — let’s call her Aunty Show-Offa.

She struts in like she’s here for a red carpet event, perfume strong enough to cause short-term memory loss. The gift? Wrapped so lavishly it probably cost more than your entire party decor. And inside it — a brand new noise-cancelling headphone. Branded. Sleek. Stylish. With the kind of bass that makes your heartbeat feel insecure.

The crowd loses it — “Oof, premium gift! Limited edition!”

But you? You nod politely, mentally assigning it a place on your shelf next to your dusty Geography book.

Because that headphone may cancel noise, but it couldn’t cancel the drama that came with her.

And then there’s your friend — the one who once skipped tuition just to help you search for your missing compass box, the one who argued with the teacher just to save your attendance, the one who never let your silence go unnoticed. That friend walks up, not with fanfare, but with that familiar awkward smile, and quietly hands you a keychain.

It’s simple. Worn out, even. But it holds a photo — a blurry, random click of the two of you laughing over something long forgotten, yet unforgettable.

You raise a brow, “Bas yeh?”

They chuckle, gently, eyes saying more than their words, “You often forget things, so this is to make you remember, main humesha tere sath hoon.”

And for a moment, you just freeze.

Then, without a second thought, you pull them into the kind of hug that doesn’t need thank-yous or explanations.

Because in that one small gift lived years of unsaid care —

Not expensive, not flashy…

Just real.

And that made it the rarest thing of all.

It’s not the object that turns into memory — it’s the person behind it.

Their place in your heart paints the value on that object.

Their presence becomes the polish.

Their feelings become the frame.

Even today, we carry that pattern unknowingly.

We value torn letters over expensive gadgets,

Broken bracelets from siblings over gold chains from distant relatives,

And sometimes, a badly drawn card from a younger cousin becomes your most prized possession — not because of the sketch, but because of the one who sketched it.

But the world — still chases the show.

“Arre, usne toh branded diya, usne handmade diya? Bas yeh farak hota hai class mein aur grass mein!”

But what they forget is, sometimes that handmade one was made by a person who stayed up all night thinking of you, while the branded one was just picked off a sale rack because the giver needed social media content.

We, as a society, need to redefine what best really means.

Best isn’t in price tags.

Best isn’t in perfection.

Best is in intention.

Because eventually, the loudest laughs, the warmest hugs, and the most unforgettable gifts don’t come wrapped in shiny covers — they come wrapped in love.

So next time someone says, “This is the best thing ever!”

Smile and think — “Maybe for you. For me, it’s just glitter without meaning.”