Musings: A 90th Birthday Article; On What I Think Is Happiness; And All the Mending Left to Do

I am not typically someone who remembers quotes quite eloquently—as much as I'd love to casually bring them up to complement my artsy, caffeine-loving side. However, something did strike a chord with me lately, and I hope to never forget it. Ruskin Bond, in his 90th Birthday Letter (a snippet from his latest publication, How to Be Happy), says, "Have I lived a happy and fulfilling life? And I answer: Yes, sometimes! And if you can be happy some of the time, you will probably lead a fulfilling life the rest of the time!"

Words to live by!

Now, reader, just humour me. Food for thought: we are obsessed with the idea of permanence, aren't we? The possibility of transience scares us; it's a threat. This isn't a brand new dish I am serving you, I know. From Aristotle to the East and the West, everyone's talked about it. It's the same old recipe, but I am just adding my secret spice to it.

Right now, I wonder if we truly understand the difference between euphoria (and no, I don't mean the TV show) and happiness. The distinction may seem semantic, but it's significant. Euphoria is the experience of intense pleasure, excitement, and well-being. It's the high of the moment. But happiness? Perhaps it's what lingers after the euphoria fades.

Euphoria is a raging dance floor, sweaty hair, and sore feet at midnight on your friend's birthday; the first sip of freshly brewed tea in the morning; the sniff of petrichor; the eye contact with your crush. You can paint the picture for yourself. Happiness, however, is a spectrum. In its transitional glory, happiness is found in contentment, bittersweetness, and the gratitude that you felt it at all. For anything that has intensity varies—it'll begin, gain momentum, peak, plateau, and then dwindle. Happiness is in it all. Metaphorically, it's like the sea that ebbs and flows. The salty currents kiss the shore fleetingly and bid their farewell just as they reach. The still and quiet shore finds happiness in the doused footprints left behind.

We greet euphoria, then grieve it: whether in its simplest, most quiet form or the howling, animalistic one. We covet it and then wonder, "Good golly! Now wasn't that a good time I lived last year, hmmm..." Why isn't it a good time now too, simply because you are aware of its existence?

By a sheer turn of events, I was lucky to visit Kashmir recently, and all my "the mountains are calling, and I must go" wishes came true. And while the Haseen Vaadiyaan and Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani tunes had their rave party in my head for a week, I came back to the blaring horns and heat of Mumbai. No complaints because we always come back to reality. In my head, I will always have the picture of the hills and peaks and remnant snow etched. Aristotle was possibly one of the first to name it eudaimonia: a full or flourishing life that may incorporate pleasure but does not actively chase it. If you're wondering why it can be hard to practise it, well, the English language does not have a word for it, so we stick to our guns with Aristotle. You never question Aristotle—ask Galileo.

So, in conclusion, reader: if you came across this blog today, check in with yourself. Are you happy? Not because you sought your euphoria, but simply because you truly lived it, so it still echoes somewhere within? And are you content that it happened at all?