Of Happiness and Suffering

“The burden of happiness can only be relieved by the balm of suffering.” – Shantaram

The above line from one of my favourite novels got me thinking today. Throughout my life I have always been fascinated by the abstract and the intangible. The philosopher in me has always searched for the answers to questions concerning matters like love and hate, good and evil, life and death. The emotions set upon opposite polarities, it may seem, are nothing more than the two sides of the same coin – one not being able to exist without the other. The definitions of each adjective and each quality seem to be coupled to their corresponding qualities in the other extremity.

The golden question every single being in this world supposed to ask itself is – “what do I really want from life?” An assortment of clichéd answers like success, power, prestige, money, love etc. will emerge. But once one delves deeper into those answers, once the layers of lies and false notions are peeled from them, the ultimate truth will reveal itself like the morning sun shining bright amidst dark rain clouds. The one thing, one simple thing everyone wants in life is happiness. Everything else – wealth, travel, friendship, love – is just a vessel for happiness.

And yet, that same relic has eluded humanity since time in memorial. The pursuit of happiness has always been in vain. The sands of bliss have left the fists of people no matter how hard they have tried to clutch at it. Maybe happiness is not something that can be captured or possessed. Maybe it is something that comes to you. Or something that emerges within one’s own self. Or maybe, it can only be attained by virtue of its own opposite – suffering.

As I write this I am forced to rewind the clock back 5 and a half years. I was in Mumbai, the City of Dreams, staying with my friends at Marine Drive – arguably the poshest location of the city. I had moved in there three weeks back, shifting from a paying guest accommodation in a drab and unclean neighbourhood which I had taken up hurriedly when I had first arrived here. The furniture in my possession had increased from an old bed and a broken steel almirah to two sets of expensive royal cushion sofas, a multi-tiered wooden cupboard, a bed with one foot thick spring mattress, kitchen accessories, a refrigerator, and two wall mounted LCD TVs. My daily office commute had reduced from an hour long struggle of walks, standing in jam-packed trains and two hundred meter long bus queues to a mere ten minute bus ride along the coast between the gates of our house and offices. And last but not the least, my mood had changed from excited to dejected.

Why was I not happy in spite of all this? I asked myself this question while returning from office one day. I sat on the brocade separating the sidewalk from the Indian Ocean and pondered. And it was the sea that provided me with the answers.

Before moving in to the new house, I had gone to Bhubaneswar for a week. Once there, the memories of my XIMB days, which had been suppressed due to the daily struggles of Mumbai, had come rushing back. I was reunited with many of my close buddies who were also visiting Odisha at that time. We had roamed around the campus for many hours, nostalgia gripping me as the waves of my thoughts drifted down the shore of memory lanes. I wanted to stay back there, to escape from the blaring horns and glaring lights of the Mumbai life. On my return flight, I went as far as wishing that the plane would crash, and death would save me from the clutches of India’s biggest city. But that was not meant to be. I was told to die another day.

I spent the next weeks thinking about the 2 years of college life, weaving my dreams of smoke and dust. I wanted to relive those days – the days of joy and recklessness. I didn’t care where I was – as long as that place wasn’t XIMB. It made me oblivious to the comforts surrounding me. My diet receded and I suffered from anaemia. That reinforced my hatred of the city and I tried desperately to cling onto the past.

As I sat before the sea that evening, the truth of life dawned upon me. I realized that everything in this world is relative – good and bad, light and darkness, happiness and suffering. Nothing exists as an absolute. Interpretations vary with situations and perceptions. I was suffering inside because I was comparing my current state with my college days, when I should have been contrasting it with the previous 4 months in Mumbai. The happiness of the XIMB days had become a burden on me, and the balm of suffering inflicted by the local train rides and soggy nights in the days before were the only way to heal myself. It was then that I decided to let go of my past, and live for the moment. It was from that day that I started appreciating the glamour and splendour of Mumbai.

Today I think about the days in Mumbai with a smile on my lips and a twinkle in my eyes. And yet I am faced with a dread. I fear that someday, those days themselves will become a burden. When that day indeed comes, where will I look for the balm?