Happiness it says…

It is early. The cold makes it seem earlier than it actually is. It is almost nine in the morning and the sun is shining brightly. But it is still cold. I lean my head down backwards, close my eyes and let myself sink in the momentous mixture of joy and sorrow – a great mixture that is almost making me want to cry.

I’m going to office. Who says civil servants can go to office any time they want? I can’t be late…I can’t take for granted the salary I’m paid. So here I am, all set for the day, to work as much as I can, with full dedication. Yet, there is this deep sadness sinking in my heart. It is like, I’m rubbing an ice cube over the surface of my heart. But again, who says we can let the sadness take us away? Aren’t we all taught how to find happiness, how to fight sorrow, how to make other people happy, and not to hurt them? It is surprising, how we live, all our life learning to do good and yet, finding it too difficult not to be selfish. (I think I’m getting carried away and diverting from what I actually want to say. Sorry for that.)

Yes, I’m going to office. There is no usual inspiration from the cool morning breeze. Maybe it is too cold. I sigh a deep, big sigh. Then, I close my eyes again. I am carrying the book, “Happiness” by Matthieu Ricard. I find it so ironical that I should feel so sad, so sad that I want to cry. And I find people moving around, all in a hurry to attend to their works for the day. They don’t seem so unhappy. But this oblivious attitude makes me even more sad. Then as I walk downhill to my office, I look at the cremation ground and find four bodies, all ready to turn to ashes. I touch my forehead, mouth and heart with my right hand and say a quiet prayer to those unknown souls. I shiver in deeper sadness. This time, for real. I mean, this time, I know why I have this sadness hanging me down early morning. I think, this morning I thought of death too strong; as if it is taking me any minute.

And now, as I write this, I get a feeling that Psychologists may call me mentally unstable. But I seem to know what I’m thinking, though, despite the many meditation sessions, I still feel blown over by many different thoughts. But aren’t we all human? As much as I think thoughts are what carry us away from the reality, I think, without them, we would be just a still dumb log or a stump. And no matter if I’m gonna come back here on earth, round and round, in circle, every hundred years or so, I think, I’m happy to be human, despite the episodic sadness, which to me is just normal.


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