Happy Child

Happiness: A Poetic Attempt to Understand It

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Happiness is tough to define,

Miming the word vapidly is mostly an attempt to prove all is fine.

What could be happiness?

A misleading word coined by a dope head or a life without a mistress…?

Wondered, read, spoke, listened, meditated and  pondered again–

Does it have something to do with evading pain?

My mother taught me to accept sorrow.

Not to question or let my brows furrow.

She glumly said: “Disbelieve every man who promises he can make you happy.

Remeber only a scoundrel declares he can produce stars in a jiffy”.

I once told her in distress – maa it’s not only about men.

Everyone is masked: killers, saints and beautiful women.

Maybe maa happiness isn’t about searching,

Maybe it’s forgetting about mobiles, laptops and Tinder hooking.

I think its something akin to getting drenched in the rain.

Feel a river gush inside me for no rhyme or reason.

Drowning the dark voices, fears and unbearable pain.

Years later, I landed in a different space,

No maa this time–

Only brittle egos, bustling roads and two destinations–

My residence and the dreary workplace.

Learnt a new word to express days of blue.

When nothing was going right and everything seemed untrue.

Everyone around called it, stress.

Every time I imagined it — I saw an ironer stuffing hot coal in his press.

Unamusingly, it also made the boss edgy and caused me distress.

Quite often, a good reason to make a huffing exit out of a corporate race.

Then, as the clock ticked, I found a good man to date.

Maa said glaring at me : “Beware, in time, he’ll turn out to be an average mate.

Make a run before its too late.”

Thanks for the kind words, maa.

I’m safely married and resigned to love, society and fate.

Life then began to turn grey,

I put on years but my reflection was in complete disarray.

This time my worst critic and friend – maa was gone.

Leaving me here to face it all alone.

I was still reflecting on life and death–

Making my man anxious about my mental health.

In search of answers, I wondered and finally fell asleep.

Instantly, I travelled to a place buried somewhere deep.

There, my childhood flashed right before my eyes.

I was playing in the large white rose garden–

Ignorantly, in my personal paradise.

Is this happiness I thought?

It must be because this feeling of calm, of being one with it all–

This is what I always fought.

I looked for an external cause, a trigger, an overhaul.

How odd, when the easiest way to be happy is just to be.

To think nothing, breathe, sky gaze or stare at the sea.

I  found myself wandering in the white rose garden, again.

The garden became my playground and my destination.

There was nothing much to do, simply smell the fragrance.

I lay there, shut the voices and deleted the earthly madness.

White Roses
Smell the roses
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