Happiness misconstrued….

Diwali the festival of lights.. lamps..and life…. It would never be the same again…as I stood on the terrace of my office in green park in Delhi.. that cold autumn evening.. I had a feeling that something had changed forever.

Everything around me was different.. I was trying to pick up the pieces of what ever was left… but there wasn’t anything left to salvage.. or was there.. I was trying to make a fresh start… I had no where to go.. just me and this new job…
I have always hated Delhi.. but this time it was different… the sun had gone down… and the city had come to life… the season of festivities was a sunrise away and for once this mad house of a city felt beautiful… I was almost done for the day… and soon I would have to go back to this lill room I was going to call home for a month. I was living alone and there was nothing or no one to go back home to…

It was Diwali and I was alone…and I hated it… but the lights and the ocean of people around me.. all busy trying to be happy was comforting. But really, was everyone happy? I have always believed that happiness is a relative concept… I have been searching for the same for the longest time…I had everything I needed to survive...but was I happy? And then what about those who couldn’t afford the materialistic needs and demands of this festival.? I have always wondered how the poor and the destitute worked around festivals like Diwali… maybe its their simplicity which gets them through it… or maybe they find their happiness in the fortunate others. I never really found an answer to that question but maybe that’s all I wanted to that night. That answer..

Diwali for me as a child was all about lights.. fire crackers … sweets and new clothes… it was a time where the whole family got together and celebrated life.. but as a kid I never thought about the less fortunate ones.. how did they go about this… wasn’t it torture… really.. watching the world around you being happy in their materialistic existence..? these were questions I needed answers for.. this was my new mission.. my new reason to live.
Living life everyday as it comes is tougher than most can imagine, you have to constantly look for reasons to get you through the day, motivation is a huge factor and answers and reasons for survival don’t come by easy. But suddenly I had this new reason….

It was dark by the time I stepped out of office, I was still in my white shirt and grey trousers and I was a wee cold, I wished for a jumper, It was going to be a long cold winter ahead, and I could already feel it. The streets were buzzing with people… the shops were brightly lit up.. selling their lill goodies.. sweets.. dry fruits… gifts… I had never seen Delhi this happy…and for some strange reason that euphoria was rubbing onto me. I must have walked a mile.. my grey bag and me.. when I chanced upon this lill slum. A collection of hutments all built from scraps buzzing with activity. The poorest of poor called it their home… I stood across that lill township, searching for the answer searching for happiness in its unadulterated form… I couldn’t see much.. but I could smell the food they were cooking, the smell of kerosene cooking stoves and lentils.. an odor common to these hutments. I had nothing better to do.. so I found my self this spot and made my self comfortable. A small city within a city.. that’s what I was looking at… But why was I here… What was I looking for? I really didn’t know? Maybe I was searching for happiness in those homes… the glimmer of hope that maybe this festival was not just about material satisfaction and happiness could not be bought with money…maybe ….

The sound of a crying infant.. the constant clatter of utensils.. the melodious voice of a drunk lost in his lill untouchable yet inescapable world… were all music to my ears… yet I couldn’t see the festivities.. I couldn’t find what I was looking for.. maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough?. There I was looking at this world I found myself fortunate not to be a part off within a world of celebrations.. the occasional burst of a distant fire cracker bringing me back to the reality that lay sprawled in front of me. Sitting there on that cold November evening I was losing hope of finding any answer or any happiness, it all looked bleak and I wanted to walk away.. just go back to my wee room and spend my night taking in Delhi in all its stupor…till I saw this dark silhouette collecting some scraps and putting them together, and before I knew it this one man had managed to put together a bonfire… a big beautiful fire.. it was alive… its lill shadows dancing on the faces that it attracted. I could finally see them…all of them... one by one… they all found themselves being drawn towards this fire… a new life had been infused in that hutment.

There were happy faces everywhere… children dancing… and then some one turned up the music.. it was loud and just not my kind… but it seemed to influx an enthusiasm I had never seen before. The old … the young… families… friends… they were all there… together.. a sense of existence in all its harmony loomed large. Diwali the festival of lights was spreading its infectious tentacles over these people... those very people who seemed to own nothing but their pride and their exuberance towards life. They seemed happy.. happy to be alive.. to be able to take in something as simple as the joys of a fire and togetherness, especially when the world around them was spending millions just to burn it all the next night. It was liberating.. a feeling which most including me could not or would not understand…I had seen enough.. I was happy…I was smiling… I had seen happiness in its unadulterated form… I had seen togetherness.. I had seen it all…