Questioning the Answer

This time lets play a brain game. This is about the most dangerous question in the world. A set in fact - but, it begins with this simple one: 'Are you happy?'

To which anyone would retort with an impulsive-compulsive-response, 'Yes(!)'. Just hold them there. The quicker the response, the more preconditioned and thoughtless they are. Catch them there; tell them that you really want them to know how happy they really are. Shoot Question two: 'What makes you happy(?)'

Remember: You still haven't got the answer for Q.1.

Allow the person to reflect. Let them list. It may include the normal, regular and boring: music, books, games, food and a long list of other B.S. Look interested, keep listening all the while exploring and wondering why these things - each thing - on their list makes them happy. If you are a seasoned mind reader or a gifted psychoanalyst, you must have already started to understand the subconscious drives and subliminal desires of the person; if not, understand that the tip of the iceberg reveals only a bit of the mountain it hides.

Remember: Q.2 is still inconclusive. 

This is when Question three touches the bottomline: 'Would you still manage to be happy doing the things that you do that really don't make you happy(?)' 

This is the point when retrospection really sets in when the person will try to recollect and count the things that are mundane, an unescapable list of tasks and ritualistic endeavours undertaken to be validated. Most of us do what we do just for validation without gratitude. We do things, wear things, speak things and pretend to like or even dislike something to avoid being named, labeled, branded and sealed as 'misfits' and the 'unfits'. In short, we pledge our life to be drafted according to other's opinion. And in it lies our unhappiness. 

Remember: Q.3 cannot be answered.

So when we clear off this smoggy vision of self-created illusion of happiness, we tend to see in bits, pieces and fragments the ruthlessly guiltless, shamelessly raw and fearlessly liberated parts of ourselves - caged, confined and battered over the years manifests. In these fragments across the maze lies the puzzle of who we are. In it lies the undeniable self - only if we dare to see. 

The best resort for those who don't wish to see... don't take the question.        

To Paint Play or Pray

 

There is so little left of life that no one can afford to miss one bit of a moment to experience joy, laughter and bliss. As a child we were all born happy. Others could only stop us from experiencing what we found to be happiness - like stopping us from jumping into a puddle or getting drenched in the rain or just watching a metamorphosis. Happiness is just there 'within'... by nature. 

And then the child grew and started to look around for supportive happiness, a form of dependency to make one happy that seemed impossible 'without' others permit. Happiness expected to be derived from others, other things or other's things or the other's other - the latter two squandering into the illegal and immoral territories. The idea of happiness we picked up from people around us and from leaflets in magazines to exploit man's search for satisfaction - a commercialized concept of modified and nurtured happiness. The claim that the better watch is the costlier watch, the better car is the yacht, the better (pent)house is the one on the rooftop that no one would otherwise want, the best drink is the one that oozes out of a civet's butt and the best food is something that is covered with gold that the body can't even absorb. And we fall for it...

This Veblen Effect of purchasable happiness moves us to find ways to bring in the moolah to gain the content to find what it promises. Some buy things while others go after people. Finally, we have our warehouse and storerooms full of things we do not use and our boardroom and bedroom with people we cannot trust one bit. This search for finding something lost either puts us in a vicious circle or takes us on a carrot and stick ride. 

Art turns beautiful and develops a character when the artist sublimates; but sublimation sinks the artist into the challenges, problems and issues he faces subtly yet with a subliminal effect. The end might bring in a smile but the journey would have been a walk through silent pain that only the artist would know. Sports on the other hand, would be a diversion indeed - to play that shot, to hit that target, to checkmate... that requires focus and concentration before experiencing that exhilarating sense of ecstasy - but that too comes with a quid pro quo - the sportsman has to be in a particular state demanded to reap the particular rush promised. Meditation and its associated jing bangs also can take you out of reality - like a drug - yet the reality awaits with its jaw open and shiny, pointed teeth waiting to swallow you whole when you come out of that cuckoo world. 

What is happiness then(?) Where is this 'joy'(?) When does one attain bliss(?) I have reached a phase in my life where I render it a privilege if I can find someone happy and consider myself fortunate to be in their company. That gratitude gives me a chance to be at bliss. I think when we wonder why God put us through a rough patch in our life and ask why our facade of happiness was shattered(?), it is perhaps to remove the filth that covers our eyes, to make us see the false and the pretentious lies floating around us and clean the rubbish we had to put up with while creating a space to accommodate simpler and truer essence of life. Every journey changes the man who undertakes it and every scar has a story to tell. Until then, Paint, Play or Pray... everything for a while.  

The Idea Of Plenty

Fear of fear gives courage. 

As we age, we encounter many things, people and situations that come with it no matter how far we try to avoid any of these that affect us.

One of man’s deadliest fears is to have to die alone. Death is a stunner at the end of a platform called life that keeps moving no matter how much you try to avoid. When it is time to go, it is time to go yet the things we do and the length we go to retain a few around us!

And in between this error called life, where we get to meet these strange people no matter how much we try to avoid, we end up facing, craving and fighting over those worthless things we claim to adore and land in situations that don’t appeal a bit just so that we build this pseudo-reality to pedal consumerism - in both the material and immaterial worlds we create around us, not sparing relationships too caught in between. Then there are these things called fate, luck, blessings, curses and the rest of such uncertainties that we feel runs and ruins us to which we grant all acclaim with such certainty.

Those necessities and these unnecessities of life of which people talk about endlessly! Often people talk a lot about what they lack rather than what they do have. People generally are silent when they are full; it is of course the empty vessels that make the loudest noise when they move. There is a person I meet at the gym who talks in length and lavishly exaggerates about the quantity and quality of food - detailing everything right from its preparation to its consumption; quite sadly, food both in quantity and quality is what this poor bloke rarely gets yet craves for.

Age too is a merciless shadow that never departs until our body remains. A thing that I realize these days is that as one ages, s/he feels that age is a defense for them to get away with anything they speak or do – even things that may be considered cheap, boring and/or offensive otherwise. Aging not only makes one cranky yet also becomes an excuse for being cranky which makes them understandably, acceptably and comfortably cranky often for no reason whatsoever. Perhaps as anger is a luxury that only the rich can afford, crankiness is a state of mind only the elderly can claim and retain.

Amidst all these worthless pursuits and endless circuits, while wishing to find some meaning and purpose in life, the search only seems to end gloriously in gaining nothing at the end of it.
“Nothing”?! Then what about all the inventions and discoveries that we glorify? Those pages and pages we write, read and sing, those countless thoughts and memories we try to collect and store and those relationships we try to gather and treasure – would they become ‘nothing’ in an instant? What about those images we treasure (?) those poems and paintings we imagine and that prose and photo we capture with delight? How about those boring, endless talks with those parasitic people and the boredom that follows that we manage to conceal with our fake smiles and unwilling nods – wishing they would stop as you begin to realize that they have just begun. What about all those occasions when we could have lifted the Oscar with our ability to act to convince that others matter when deep inside, both kith and kin, they don’t matter at all? The truth that we seek, when everything we see, hear or feel is just a comforting lie that tries to make us feel that everything around us is eternal and everyone immortal while “I” of all the fakes around, agree too, faking with all my might as I should for making the idea of plenty a comforting thought for all to believe. If a prize or an award be given for the biggest fake of all, first in line shall I be as I fold all my fingers but one and pray that all of us deserve to ‘go forth and multiply’ as the good God wanted us to. 

Cowards live when they fear death.      

Misinterpreting Nietzsche

Very often, as often as we often do, we take a few lines (out of context) and we dare to commit the blunder of maligning the very nature of the person who spoke by highlighting the parts sans understanding the whole.

Friedrick Nietzsche, said to be a devil, an anti-Christ, a wicked man who was supposed to have said, "God is dead" actually did not say (just) that; yet if people had (only) read the whole, would have perhaps understood that he said just the opposite of what we remember him for. Here are the infamous lines that made him famous...

Said Friedrick Nietzsche, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?” 

which is not the same as "God is dead." or is it?!

One more misunderstood person manipulated in History by a maligned lot.

It's So Good To Fail

We are all beings of imitation; we imitate people who we appreciate; everything we do well is how well we have been able to imitate someone who has succeeded doing things we wished we could do too-be it the way we walk, the way we talk or perhaps even the way we think.

Masters of impersonation are we and with our greed to always excel, we would rather imitate someone who has done the same thing before us than try and attempt to do something our own. To do something our own, means, giving ourselves a chance, a chance to perhaps even fail; yet, we hate trying. We would rather 'cut, copy and paste' in our rush to success rather than give ourselves a shot to fail and perhaps to discover who we really are. We are all scared to fail and in that sense, have forgotten to create something new, something true, something real and above all something our very own that defines us. 

Success has always been history and with more and more conditioned, learnt behaviour being taught in schools and colleges, just an imitate-able impersonation... and just a boring repetition of history. At some point of time, rather than succeed in living a life of impersonation and imitation, tired and boring that we should get, why not attempt to do something ourselves even if it meant we would fail and give ourselves a chance to discover who we really are.  Failure teaches us something new, failure teaches us something more sacred than success, failure helps us learn more about who we are rather than what we are expected to be. It is a success to fail :)    

It Is Black

It is black. If one does not draw his identity, he would be forced to move into and take up an identity the world cynically yet cleverly and clearly draws for him. It is great to live in an illusion that we are all equal, created equal, born equal et al; as we endlessly justify its claim and claim for it; yet, the truth is that we are not equal, no one is; we are just similar and that's it. These lines we draw to define ourself appears dark in light. And darkness is real and into darkness we move to know what is true. 

“Light is shallow; darkness is infinitely deep. Light is always bounded, it has boundaries. Darkness has no boundaries, it is unbounded. Light comes and goes; darkness always is. When there is light you cannot see it. When light is not there you can see it. But it is always there; you cannot cause it. Light has a cause. You burn the fire, you put on wood. When the wood is finished the light will be gone. It is caused, hence it is an effect. But darkness is not caused by anything, it is not an effect. It is uncaused eternity.” said Osho.

The closer we get to reality, the darker it gets. In darkness, you are alone, closer to you, closest to you alone. In darkness one loses himself; and lost, finds himself. Darkness brings warmth like the dark looming clouds before a rain. The other mystical element-water, at its depths-the abyss, is just as dark as well. Identifying ones own darkness helps him to move away from the fake light in which he sees himself and others and the spot from which he sees others or allows them to see him. 

Immediate movement into darkness brings forth fear and shudders, the natural. Identity intends to break our comfort zone and that of others that they hold of us. It is in darkness that we usually see beyond the conditioned notions with which the world sees us... those lines of disparity, the points of discrimination and all the unnatural lines drawn to distinguish us and thus differentiate us. It is in darkness that one comes from and into the same one moves' yet, isn't it strange that man fears darkness when in light and alone?! 

In a way, it is in darkness that man is really tested face to face with no restraint-bold, raw, rustic, strong, dark and black-and he begins to see himself clear. Cleared off from all those defining lines the world had drawn for him-to contain him, to manipulate him and to convince him of his limits. In a way, it is in this darkness, the pitch black bottom, that those dark lines separating us to see us apart gets reconnected and we see people beyond differences-that otherwise we have to beg for and plead in light. True knowledge is dark,far away from the comfort of the light we are generally exposed to; that is perhaps why they insist on unlearning as more important than the learning. Light divides, darkness unites. Let the fool and the coward step out and let the others move on; into darkness let us be lost and find ourselves and others ... Let us leap into the boundless comfort of darkness. 

p.c: http://rvspeaks.blogspot.in/2011/08/darkness-important-aspect-of-life.html

Who Said So

Cicero's (106 - 43 BC) philosophy: 

1. The poor: work and work, 

2. The rich:  exploit the poor, 

3. The soldier: protects both, 

4. The taxpayer: pays for all three, 

5. The wanderer: rests for all four, 

6. The drunk: drinks for all five, 

7. The banker: robs all six, 

8. The lawyer: misleads all seven, 

9. The doctor: kills all eight, 

10. The undertaker: buries all nine, 

11. The Politician: lives happily on the account of all ten. 

"Can we quantify 'God'?" seems to be the thought I am troubled with as I wonder deep within... "Should I be quantifying God?" However, everyone wants to build definitions; rigorously working towards containing everything into a small box of their understanding as I stand in vain knowing that the unlimited need not be/cannot be brought into our spectrum of limitations and limited undersatnding... yet the crowd moves. They push and push like a woman in labour and somehow I am pushed too and commit the sin of indulging to do the same as well; knowing well that what I attempt cannot be done having done it more than once in the past too and having the lesson well. Yet, I move along...

I wonder from where comes this desire to try one more time and feel like a fool later on? For uttering words that cannot be taken back; yet I vomit! To regret like a complete idiot for not holding on to silence and bearing with others who are taking the same course that I had taken once. Why does regret come in first and why is patience delayed? 

Someone said that not quantifying God and resting with "Thathuvam' asi" was a sign of laziness. I got irritated. "Why?" I asked myself. If I was at peace then from where arrived this sudden discomfort to rob me of my sanity? I was digging in deeper not wanting to be disturbed one more time, the next time. Complacency disturbed, disrupted, destroyed... I was wondering how well closed I had become in the attempt to open up; jumping from one box right into another. Am I thinking different or is my thinking different? Why are people who think different so alone... (so lonely)?! So am I deliberating mediocre thoughts to belong? Is that where I really want to belong? 

Am I in a place where everything has to be something as I see nothing in it? Are we trying to be smarter or are we trying to show that we are smarter? Why do I talk like a crack pot and realize it too? Having learnt that action speaks louder than words and knowing that silence is golden, why can't I simply shut up and why am I trying to articulate better to survive? So, is the need to survive blocking my vision of existence? 

Does thoughtlessness expose emptiness or does it expose the epitome of nirvana? Why am I disturbed if I knew what peace was once? Why did I slip? Why do I fall? Am I losing myself in the middle of nowhere yet again and searching my soul yet again... knowing well that unless you lose yourself you can't find yourself... Am I lost yet again?! Duh!... As I watch the world pass by from my glass window, I wonder why does it shatter me within (that I try not to let anyone else see) when someone shatters the window pane? Do I fear getting out into the crowd 'I think' I have analysed for long or disturbed that someone shattered the thin line that separated the "me" from "them"? Why am I not me? If I really believed in nothing, then why do I believe in me? Why do I want to be me? Do I really have to be me...? and for that matter anyone I want to be or not to be?

"Lord, thee I dare not contain with my critical thinking-unquantified, unshaped and unconditionally loved thus-in your unlimited vastness I submit me, shape me as you desire (I need not even ask thee)... it is thine I want to be and with faith as blind as can be I move, let each step be a step towards thee."

p.c: http://noorimages.com/feature/the-lost-years/afghanistan-mazar-sharif-women-begging-by-road/

3 Photos Of A Classical Traditional Home

Tradition can't get better than this. A chair in a silent corner by a window with a classical mat-curtain on the side and a small, multi-purpose table upfront which usually becomes a coffee table, table for keeping reading accessories including the everyday newspaper that is changed sincerely every morning and also often becomes a foot rest when resting at times. This is a corner usually preferred and often made and taken by elders just the way they want it, like the character they emanate... silent, reserved and in their own complacent world. Miss this?! 

This is another classic-the wooden swing left to hang from the ceiling suspended with iron chains which too are artistically yet sturdily made. Usually made from a single block of wood, this is where people like to spend a quite evening, swinging lightly-back and forth-just like the waves of thoughts that come and go in their minds when they are on it. People usually have a very strong sense of attachment to these pieces from a bygone era and claim their spot in it no matter how old they get. This usually turns out into a swing for the middle aged, cot for the elderly and a piece every sibling fights for once the house needs to be dismantled after its time. This is almost like a trophy hanging in the house that swings like a pendulum-a reminder of time and a witness to everything that has passed time right in front of it. This is a classic example of how characters get personified in the inanimate.  

This is a wonder carefully arranged and tackled sensibly. The giant cot with pillars that give it an ethnic yet robust look, the store-trunk at the base of the cot made of solid wood that also turns into a seater at times, the corner stool with a smart book rack beneath it, a dressing mirror on another corner and last yet not the least, a carefully decked up mattress that seems to be breathing a comfortable call to come and rest peacefully. This is space personified and personalized. This could easily become anyone's heaven at the end of the day. If Freud were alive, he would have found this a sexual den with figurative imagery. "Why not?" I shall ask then. No matter what, the more you look into it and the more you begin to like it, the more creative you get in a dreamy bedroom like this. What better place than this for ideas to emerge?! 

p.c: some old snaps I had collected while planning a home, don't know who clicked it anyway, thanks buddy

A Thought On Killing

People kill. People think they can conquer someone by killing. People think death is strong... stronger than life. They are wrong. Death is never stronger than life. Life is strong. Like truth is stronger than a lie. Death is a lie. Life is the truth. People kill. They think they have conquered someone by killing... yet what have they conquered really? A body?! A body is already lifeless without the spirit. How scared were they then of the spirit they try to kill? Killing exposes fear. Fear of something far above what they can bear that they decide to silence. Killing does not silence. Silence is loud. The voice spoken within is louder than the noise of a thousand outside. Killing ends the body not the spirit. The spirit lives. Lie dies. Truth lives. Body dies. Yet the soul wanders. Killing only sets the spirit free to wander. The body restricts. Death liberates. That is probably why people do not find the liberty they seek till they die. That is probably why it takes more strength to live than die. Thanks to the killer. Thanks to God... 

How Intelligent Is Intelligence?

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex... It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction." Albert Einstein

"The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled." Plutarch

"A great oak is only a little nut that held its ground." Anonymous

"For you to insult me, I must first value your opinion." unknown

“He who stands for nothing will fall for anything.” Alexander Hamilton

“A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special.” Nelson Mandela

“Rich people have small TVs and big libraries, and poor people have small libraries and big TVs.” Zig Ziglar

You Can Reach Nirvana In 10 Days

There once was a wannabe-disciple who went to a Guru to feel what being in 'nirvana' felt like. He knew what he wanted and asked the Guru to show him the path to this state through meditation et all. The Guru admitted him and the following conversation emerges 10 days later, soon after the disciple is quite convinced that the meditation he has practiced has helped him reach the state of "nothingness" a.k.a the state of nirvana (yeah right! faster than those 'learn Hindi in 30 days' courses. Must be one of those "I want it now" corporate rats).

Man: (Comes running and panting) Guruji, Guruji, I have reached the state of nirvana.

Guru: Thats great! So what did you realize?

Man: (Puff! Pant! Gasps for breath and...) I feel that I am nothing. From nothing I came and to nothing I go and am nothing in between. I feel great and I feel nothing inside and nothing on the outside.

Guru: Are you sure?

Man: Yes Guruji, with no ego I feel great.

Guru: Are you sure?

Man: Yeee.... (fatak! came a slap from nowhere) szzzzzzzzzz...

(The man looked at the Guru's hand now recoiling after delivering that blow. The man's eyes turned red as the Guru gently smiled. The man spat the blood now drooling out of his mouth and asked...)

Man: What the hell was that for you lousy old man?

Guru: (Still smiling) Now where were we?! So you were telling me that you have reached nirvana and you feel nothing and hence no ego... right?

Man: YEAH, RIGHT! (Still mumbling and hiding his clenching fists)

Guru: Then where did this anger come from?!...

The man went back into the ashram to continue his spiritual journey.

p.c:http://www.clear-mind-meditation-techniques.com/binaural-beats-for-meditation.html

The Shortest Telegraph In History

The shortest telegraph sent so far sounded quite smart and assertive... the Spartans were sons of war; born tough and rough. Once while a rival conqueror was in his mad pursuit, a messenger was sent to the Spartan King to scare them to their bones and weaken their spirit in a telegraphic language that read, "If we march into the boundaries of Sparta, your wives will become widows, your children will be orphaned and your land brought to dust." Now, the Spartans were not just brawn alone they had the brain to go with it. Soon the rival conqueror saw his messenger bring back a reply from the Spartan King and to his surprize found the same telegraph he had sent earlier brought back to him with the word "If" duly underlined.

Thus the shortest reply in history which read more than what was said. If only we learn to speak less!

p.c: http://doitlikeadude.wordpress.com/2011/01/24/are-you-more-tough-guy-or-spartan-warrior/

Spiritual or Religious

Me: So, are you a believer?

TWO: What do you mean?
Me: Well, are you a religious person?
TWO: No, I am plain spiritual.
Me: hahaha! Don't start again... whats the difference?!
TWO: Its like choosing to take a path or taking a pathless path. I just walk.
Me: So do you or don't you believe in the concept of "God"?!
TWO: hahaha! I just wonder why those who say they do, don't...

p.c: http://www.nature.com/naturejobs/2010/100408/full/nj7290-945a.html

The Most Important Thing About Nirvana

What happens when one searches for "Nothing" and ends up finding it?!

When you search for nothing and end up finding nothing, invariably you feel sad in finding nothing because you feel you have found nothing at all... A twisted paradox yet again!

P.c: http://www.tricycle.com/web-exclusive/emptiness-all-or-nothing

The Poisonous Mushroom

Watching from the shore for long, tides and waves roll with a rhythmic beat all foretold.
New blossoms of temple flowers bloom, as some did fall face first to the ground in sweet surrender.

“Oh dancing leaves on this rainy day!
Dance how you may lest you sway.”

At the sea’s edge, a rush of wind parts memories left far behind...
With remorse stood I conjuring the self-imposed torture; with pain that soared with the cross I bear.

Like the dancing dew drop that rolleth from the blade of the staggering leaf on a withering tree,
like a merry soldier whistling his final tune to the tip of the guillotine,
looking skyward stood I dripping in complete surrender.
The zenith had no bounds and the nadir inched too deep;
wanting to dissolve in the hastened fury, complacency the soul rendered;
knowing for sure that certain dreams are better gone when awake.

The wine rolleth well, piercing those buds screaming for more.
Till the blood-red wine knoweth not if its the blood or the wine that tasteth so well in the mouth it rolls.

"My poisonous mushrooms! Left behind with the serpent's kiss,
knowing too well and none better than he will know what he knows best…
that he desires to be plucked undeserving to be tasted;
unless death beckons the soul from deep for the one who plucketh."

Picture Courtesy (P.C):
http://www.featurepics.com/online/Amanita-Poisonous-Mushroom-1674154.aspx

The Wanderer

This is a dream of long ago...

Of a wanderer, an occasional sage and an often hermit;
who oft as life relies upon, took steps too bold into the cowardice path of loneliness for sanity's sake alone.

Oh! pathless paths they were.
The truth better left unsaid of the dark alleys and those mystery miles some roads carried him through.

Why the journey?
Why the pain?
How the endurance to carry on?
No one knows yet! Not even he...

Seeker of the Trinity-'Love, Truth and Simplicity',
the journey still continues,
across barbed wires and fences
and through doubts and hurdles come what may.

Like the others who took this path and disappeared
into the mists on the rivers they tread,
leaving no trails whatsoever,
so will he and knows that too... yet,
he makes his own path step by step.
Knowing well that a man who has chosen to walk into the dark
must not be surprised to see the light within.

Moi Sleeping Child...

Where on Earth does one find happiness?

A while ago I began asking people I came across, "When was the last time you actually laughed? Laughed just for yourself, laughed not to please anyone and not because it was expected; the last time you actually were happy and laughed like a fool, unbothered..." Everyone brooded for a while and almost everyone had a default reply, "10 years ago." Wow! that was just a number; the actual could be longer.

Troubled with life and the suburban drudgery and chronic dissatisfaction that comes along with it, people have forgotten to be happy. This started my mission to 'Rediscover Happiness'.

Sometimes, I watch my lil' son smiling to himself and making those funny noises, babbling that strange language which must mean a lot to him and he is happy. He feeds, sleeps and sometimes appears to be lost in thought and he transends that feeling of happiness to everyone around him. Everyone, even those serious ones become child like in his precense as they try to mimic his movements and speak his language. He seems to be living Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs upside down. He has all his basic and other elementary needs (those which we, the adults crib for) met/given/provided with happiness. And He, needless to say, is self actualized and transcends the same to everyone around. No wonder people like to be around children.

It hurts me to have to accept the fact that he will slowly be moving downward in that hierarchy of needs, in the course of survival and must climb the hierarchy all over again to reach the point he is already in now as time goes by... as people would expect him to speak their language(s), compartmentalize him into customs, values, mores, traditions, etiquette, culture, religion(s), codes and ethics... someone accepted and admired so much now, will soon be a victim to this compulsory norms and conditions for survival, to gather that acceptance among the people around him who so unconditionally love him now; and I will be watching this transformation (helplessly).

Soon, very soon I shall be asking him "When was the last time you actually laughed? Laughed just for yourself, laughed not to please anyone and not because it was expected; the last time you actually were happy and laughed like a fool, unbothered..." and probably he will help me rediscover happiness as time goes by.

Bottom line: "Man, unlike the animal, has never learned that the sole purpose of life is to enjoy it." Samuel Butler

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