# As You Were Born to Be Happy The morning light fell across the desk in thin, golden lines. Riya sat with her coffee growing cold, watching the dust motes dance in those beams as if they were the most important thing in the world. Perhaps they were. Her mother's voice still hung in the air from the phone call twenty minutes ago: *"You're throwing your life away. Do you understand that? A good job, a good man—these things don't grow on trees."* But Riya had stopped listening somewhere around the third repetition. The words had begun to sound like the morning traffic outside—necessary noise, meant for someone else's ears. She opened the drawer and pulled out the letter. Not the one from the company rejecting her proposal. Not the one from Arjun, written in his careful, measured hand, explaining why he couldn't understand her need to "throw caution to the wind." This was a different letter—old, yellowed, creased from being read too many times. It was from her grandmother, Dida, written nearly forty years ago to Riya's mother. The words were simple, in Bengali, in Dida's uneven handwriting: *"You were born to be happy, not to be correct. Remember this when the world tells you otherwise."* Riya had found it in a box after Dida's funeral, tucked between old photographs and wedding invitations. She had kept it close ever since, the way some people keep a compass. The coffee was definitely cold now. She poured it out and made a fresh cup. Outside, the city was waking up—the sound of auto-rickshaws, vendors calling out their wares, the usual symphony of a day beginning. Somewhere in that chaos, people were going to jobs they tolerated. Some were keeping promises they no longer believed in. Others were slowly disappearing into the shape of what others expected them to be. Riya thought of her friend Priya, who had given up dance for a corporate job at her father's insistence. Priya's apartment was beautiful and empty. Priya's eyes had a faraway look these days, like she was always listening for music that had stopped playing. She pulled out her laptop and opened the email she had drafted three days ago. The one she had read and reread, but never sent. The one that said: *I'm declining the promotion. I'm taking the photography assignment instead. I know this makes no sense to anyone but me, and perhaps that's exactly why it makes all the sense in the world.* Her finger hovered over the send button. The fear was real—a cold, solid thing in her chest. What if her mother was right? What if she was genuinely throwing her life away? What if, five years from now, she looked back and regretted this moment with a bitterness that could never be undone? But then she thought of Dida, who had left her village at twenty-two and moved to the city alone, when women simply didn't do such things. Dida, who had learned to paint even though her family said it was frivolous. Dida, who had lived quietly but fiercely, on her own terms. *You were born to be happy, not to be correct.* Riya clicked send. For a moment, nothing happened. The email sat in the outbox, and her heart was very loud. Then it was gone—delivered, irrevocable, real. She sat back in her chair and waited for the panic to come. It didn't. Instead, something lighter filled her chest. Something that might have been called relief, or freedom, or perhaps the simple, startling knowledge that she was still alive—that her life was still, miraculously, entirely her own. The morning light shifted across the desk. The dust motes continued their ancient dance. And Riya sat very still, tasting her fresh coffee, feeling the weight lift from her shoulders like a bird learning, finally, that it had always been capable of flight. Outside, the city rushed on, indifferent and full of endless possibilities. And for the first time in months, Riya didn't feel the need to apologize for being exactly where she was.

A short story for you…….

There was a happy man walking along the fields; sunshine and the perfume of flowers filled his contented heart. Just then, he came upon the bridge he had always dreaded to cross. It was made of one thin rope on the bottom to walk upon and another thin one above to grip for balance. And with each crossing, the distance seemed to stretch further still. But he had to cross it to reach home. That day, a storm raged in the river below, and the winds above howled with wild fury. The man was halfway across when the lower rope snapped beneath him. He cried out to God for help. And that was when he saw Him—God standing at the far end of the bridge, smiling gently down upon him. The man yelled: God! Save me! God smiled with love. But the man grew angry instead… he began to rage and curse, swearing he would never believe in God again. Yet God continued to smile from the other end of the bridge. With immense struggle and stubborn perseverance, the man managed to cross, clinging to the thin rope meant for balance. When he reached the far side, he turned and accused God of taking pleasure in his suffering. And THAT was when he saw it—God was holding the broken second rope in His hands, which were badly bruised and torn.

The lesson? Well, if God brings you to it, He will see you through it too….. Be Happy... Perhaps this is God's way of building your strength, your faith in yourself, and keeping you safe from any great fall!

Another touching story that came to me through an email…….

Long ago, when ice-creams didn't cost so much, a ten-year-old boy walked into an ice-cream parlour. Sitting at a table, he asked the waitress, "How much does a Sundae cost?" "Fifty cents," she replied.

The boy pulled out his money and began to count it carefully.

"Well then, how much does a simple ice-cream cost?"

Other customers were waiting to be served, and the waitress was beginning to grow impatient.

"Thirty-five cents!" she answered curtly. The boy counted his money once more and said: "I'll have a simple ice-cream, please."

The waitress brought him his ice-cream and the bill. The boy finished his ice-cream, paid at the counter, and left.

When the waitress cleared his table, she began to weep… for there, in the corner of the plate, lay fifteen cents… his tip.

The boy had chosen a simple ice-cream instead of a Sundae so he could leave her a gratuity.

I felt tears come when I read that. Truly, we can never know what fate has written for us until it unfolds before our eyes!

These are not mere lines crafted to inspire…they are leaves torn from life's own book. So often we fail to see that a higher power works ceaselessly, day and night, to bring happiness into our lives. Yet when trouble comes, we blame and accuse and question its intentions.

That power—call it God, Allah, Bhagwan, Jesus, or simply POWER—gives us what we ask of it. If we spend our days lamenting what we lack, we’ll get more lack. Because our passion flows into the complaint. But if we offer gratitude to the Universal Power, if we send it peace, then peace returns to us, along with fresh reasons to be grateful. Our energies work then toward creating joy. It’s what they call the law of attraction. And it’s extraordinary—it truly works. If you believe you can, you can. If you believe you can’t, that’s true as well. The whole world aligns itself to give you what your heart desires. I believe in a POWER. It works for us, day and night, and more besides. I believe in the POWER of goodness, the POWER of smallness. I believe in the God of small things. But the world isn’t always the rose garden we imagine it to be. Sometimes things darken. They become foreign. The blessings that once sustained us falter. And I feel helpless. Perhaps that’s when transformation waits to happen. Dreams need nightmares to pass through. Sometimes other powers arise that contradict everything I stand for. I live by my principles. So my whole being trembles. My mind stops walking beside my heart. I try to reshape the world around me and forget that it cannot be reshaped—it is already formed. And so I bathe myself in the dew of imagination. It always works better. When I cannot do even that, I sink into NOTHINGNESS. I am nothing without my thoughts. They are what feed my soul. I want to weep when scattered thoughts come hunting through my mind. These aren’t mere thoughts; they are my soul’s provider. Life hardly tastes sweet until you’ve read the book of living itself.

I understand there are moments when you feel displaced, when your thoughts refuse to settle into the world around you. In those times, you must physically remove yourself from everything that weighs you down—those thoughts, those people, those circumstances. Feel yourself floating on a white cloud. ACTUALLY FEEL AND SEE all the muck left behind you as you drift toward a softly lit garden perfumed and alive with gentle music. Stay there. Force yourself to remain for thirty minutes. Force it at first; but slowly, let your muscles soften. Feel the tension leaving your body, the stress draining from your neck’s base. Let your shoulders drop—they need rest. Let your back curve and your neck fall slack. Watch the tension seep away like a serpent slithering into nothingness, out of sight. Just thirty minutes. You’ll rise again with renewed energy, or you’ll feel wonderfully, peacefully lazy. Let the feeling carry you.

To live by principles is noble. But remember: principles are what you yourself have created. Never let them become a cage.

Sometimes the very gentleness we craft into our own code becomes our undoing—slowly strangling the joy right out of us. Be kind to yourself. Gather around you those who kindle something in you…and above all, smile at yourself often. After all, who deserves it more than you do? Cheers!

Let your words speak directly to the ear of your own soul! I once read about yoga techniques in one of Osho’s books. Truly wonderful things. I tried practising for a few days, then let it slip. That’s me—I can hold onto anything for only so long before it slips through my fingers. I’m always experimenting, always moving on to the next thing. I know it’s harmful, this restlessness. Relaxation techniques, your own thoughts on what you believe in—they’ll stir something in you. Never let your principles go unexamined, and always listen to what your conscience whispers. Your soul is your truest companion. But life isn’t always so neat, is it? Hard times crack things open. And we begin asking ourselves: what endures? What doesn’t? What should, what shouldn’t? Back and forth, endless questions. It’s tangled, you know. And we feel the urge to remake ourselves entirely. Never a good move! . . . . When you smile often but sometimes can’t quite manage it, smile to yourself instead. Try it. Your own heart will smile back at you. Isn’t that something? Make those around you smile too. Though sometimes you can’t. You feel how small you become when you fail to lift someone’s spirit. The truth is, it’s not always possible. You can’t please everyone, though God knows we keep trying . . . . . Forgive me if my thoughts trouble you.

Just let it go! You need to let it go. Sometimes the truest path forward is simply not to push. Free yourself from all those heavy, suffocating thoughts. Like I’ve said already, principles only matter when they don’t crush you. With time, principles themselves must shift subtly—must learn to bend with the new world that keeps unfolding around us. Nothing stays still. So why should principles? As for relaxation techniques, airline hostesses learn them in training. This is what they do when exhaustion has wrung them out after a flight. Keep your own happiness close. Because only a happy heart can give happiness to others! There’s nothing wrong with trying new things, with experimenting, as long as each attempt helps you become more fully yourself. Success finds those who’ve discovered what truly makes them alive. So try the new paths, keep searching for what sets your heart alight. Life is simple. We make it complicated with our thinking, our inherited codes and rigid beliefs. Breathe! Relax to succeed, relax so you can love, relax so you can carry joy to others. Be gentler with yourself. Life’s a roller coaster—sometimes you plunge, sometimes you soar. Ride it all.

Peace and joy upon you……