I turned to the “Open Page” with trepidation wondering whether my article where I had agonised over every word and line had found a place. The editor’s scalpel is really sharp and, often, I am disappointed. This week too, I was disappointed but before I could move on I saw a particular name. My sense of disappointment blew away when I saw the name of my good friend and colleague over the years. Lakshmi is articulate with her fine repertoire of words, and a great reader on the sidelines of her busy schedule. I could not have been happier had my own article appeared in the columns of the “Open Page”.
How does one differentiate the pride one feels for a friend’s accomplishment, something one is slightly envious of, and the undiluted joy one feels for someone for whom one is completely happy?
The subtle difference is expressed in the Hebrew word firgun, which can be roughly translated as unselfish delight. There are times we feel happy about things totally unrelated to us, where there is no sense of the self. I see the child of neighbours, who have recently moved in, giving me the brightest smile of camaraderie from the balcony and my heart is moved. There is similar joy at the sight of a red hibiscus in the garden, looking askance at me.
The pursuit of happiness can be a tiresome exercise, the object forever evasive when we look for it in tangible ways. It resides in the recesses of our own hearts waiting to emerge when we show concern and empathy for everything and everyone around.
Recently, I found a woman, who lived alone, beaming with happiness as she was surrounded by grandchildren who had come to visit her from another country. Savouring the occasion, she lived in the moment exulting in their presence, her loneliness falling away. I stepped in to partake of their joy and found it immersive. In that moment, my happiness was complete.
Another time, I met a septuagenarian walking his frisky Labrador in the light of dawn. I did not know who walked whom but they were happy in their togetherness and I experienced a selfless joy. To be happy about the happiness of another is indeed a gift when there are people around who are not happy with what they have but unhappy about what others have
Writer Jean-Francois Beauchemin, in his book Archives of Joy, speaks of “an invitation to a certain forgotten way of seeing the world” and an exultation at “an earthly life with its duration so short it obliges us to surpass ourselves.” These encounters, however brief and transient, add value to careworn lives.
The tranquillity of the night sky with sparkling stars or the red glory of the sunrise are hallowed experiences that reach out to us in our pain-filled existence, offering beauty we can experience with joy on our own as well as with the world. Dostoevsky says in his The Brothers Karamazov, “Love every leaf. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything; you will begin to comprehend it better everyday and you will come at last to love the world with an all embracing love.” There lies our happiness.
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