Defining happiness

I had an interesting discussion with my students last week. I asked them what does "happiness" mean for each one of them. They came up with interesting answers but all of them could be summarized as the feeling that followed the acquisition of something they wanted, whether the object was material (like a cellphone or abstract as in words of praise). I am sure this would be the answer any other group would come up with as well. But is this right?

If happiness lies in acquisition alone then the wealthy would always be happy and the poor would not smile! Most things that bring joy to us are free - a child's smile, a beautiful sunset, blooming flowers. Then why do we equate happiness with acquiring objects and empty words? Perhaps the incessant media messages and the resultant peer pressure that makes us think only along the lines of material wealth as a source of happiness. Is human nature this shallow?

Is "having" something a prerequisite to being happy? If yes, we crave things, we keep doing, working, stressing ourselves as we rise higher up the social hierarchy. Is it possible to just "be" in the moment? As I heard someone say, "We have become human doings instead of human beings." We believe that we can be "happy" - as if it is a destination, once we "have" all the necessary ingredients and for that, we have to constantly "do" something.

My students asked me what my definition of happiness was. I had no prepared response but on the spur of the moment, I said "being alive". In a way, it does echo my belief that for me to experience happiness, the prerequisite is to be alive first. And each day I am grateful to wake up and appreciate all I have in my life already. I like my life the way it is right now. And from this space of contentment and fullness, I can look at avenues for creating more such moments in this life. Being in the moment, helps me move to the next with a sense of enthusiasm. Therefore I set about doing things that will add to my already existing levels of happiness.

I have concluded that being happy is the prerequisite to having all the things you want and not the other way around.

Charminar Charms

There was one thing on my list that finally got crossed out this week. Since the time I have been in Hyderabad, I have wanted to visit Charminar during the month of Ramzan. The entire neighborhood comes to life at night after the fast is broken, in the days preceding the Id. It has a unique atmosphere that is specific to the season regardless of the time of year. I have thought about going there every year for the last five years at least. I was told that it is not safe, it is too crowded, there is nothing for me there since I don't eat mutton biryani and a myriad other reasons to stay away. And I heeded these words. Until this week.

On Tuesday night I spent the hours between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. in the area around Charminar. I bought glass bangles at Laad Bazaar, picked up cheap chappals on the roadside and ate sinful chola bhatura. The place was lit up like a thousand Christmas trees. There were cartloads of fresh fruit and stores selling the seasonal haleem. Piles of clothes at bargain prices blocked the entrance to stores. Footwear in an astonishing range of colors and mind-boggling prices twinkled in the bright lights. You could engage in good-natured bargaining with the smiling vendors for chappals, crockery and jewelry at every step. Women in burkhas walked by while men in motorbikes ogled every woman without one. Young boys announced the latest discounts while college girls selected accessories with a vengeance.

Festive energy enveloped the place. An easy camaraderie seemed to permeate the streets. The Charminar was lit up for the occasion and looked like a new Chinese implant. The bangle seller tried to convince me about the novelty of his goods by saying that the only old thing in the neighborhood was the Charminar, everything else was brand new! We took pictures with our fancy cameras but no two-dimensional depiction could capture the enthusiasm of the shoppers or the incipient joy that underlined the streets.

I felt totally at home in the crowds. It was almost like a regular day in a Mumbai local train. With all the lights around, it seemed like 8 p.m., not midnight. I am not a night owl but the contagious energy of the masses seemed to move me for a few hours until it was time to grab some Famous icecream and return home. What a great way to participate in the spirit of Ramzan! I hope to do it again.

Clear answers

I missed my mother today. She passed away more than four years ago. I sense her absence often but miss her acutely on some days. Today was one such day.

Did something happen to trigger the feeling? Was I in need of advice? A lecture perhaps? A prescription to fix what was ailing me? Is there a pattern that I can discern in this occasional feeling of melancholy that grabs me and punches me hard in the abdomen when I feel the void? No clear answer comes to mind.

My mother and I grew close over the years but had a tumultuous relationship in my growing years. In many ways we were like chalk and cheese - she was a quiet diplomatic woman while I was an outspoken firebrand. She was a quintessential homemaker while I was the flag-waving activist. I looked outwards to conquer the world while she had the internal stillness that everyone craves for. Was she perfect? No. Was I flawed? Perhaps.

But she was always there for me. To discuss, to debate, to discover. To observe, to object. To understand. Very often our stands on most issues were contrary. But from this divergent viewpoint, we would speak - freely and without fear of judgment. Seldom did we get converted to the others viewpoint, but we always listened. Vexing questions, weighty decisions, huge obstacles, we wrestled with them all. As I became an adult, she did not tell me what to do, but showed what the consequences of my actions could be, leaving me alone to decide. All the practice made it easy for me when I did have to take major steps in life.

We are always at crossroads in life, some minor, some major. There are clues, and people to guide, but choose you must for you alone will walk that path. It is simpler to listen to those well-wishers who speak loudest and with the most conviction or to the majority. But who will be the contrarian then? The soft-spoken voice of reason. The one who flips over the coin to show the other side? Mother was that divergent voice for me. The one I had to work hardest to convince and in doing that I would convince myself.

So when no clear answer comes to mind. That is when I miss her the most. Like today.