Happiness

I believe that I have the key to happiness.

While my dad and I were on a trip in India, my dad decided to take me on a trip to two of his cousins. One of his cousins was extremely poor, while his other one was extremely rich.

One of my dad’s cousins/my uncles was a stockholder. He was extremely rich. When we first arrived at his house, the first thing I noticed was how massive and spectacular his house is. My uncle’s house consists of 7 bedrooms and 6 bedrooms, and even more amenities, like a giant swimming pool. Initially I thought that if I lived in this sort of place, I would never, ever want anything else again, that I couldn’t desire anything else if I lived in this sort of house.

When we first arrived, my uncle looked somewhat happy to see us. However, as I stayed at his house, I eventually started to realize that he wasn’t happy at all. I started to get the feeling that he was depressed. 8-year-old me couldn’t believe it. How could my uncle ever, ever be unhappy? He had literally anything a human being could ever want! These thoughts clashed in my head for the remainder of my stay at my rich uncle’s place.

My dad’s poorer cousin was a very poor man who stitched and sold clothes for a living. When we arrived, my uncle greeted us very warmly. The first thing I noticed when we were there was what my poor uncle lived in. A shack. A shack that mainly consisted of scrap materials, like straw and scrap metal. I was pretty weirded out, and didn’t really enjoy the first few days of our visit. I had to sleep in a cot, which was pretty uncomfortable. My dad didn’t exactly seem to mind, and his cousin thought that this was perfectly normal.

I started to think that my uncle was crazy for living here. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault he was so poor. Most of his parents’ inheritance was given to his older brother. But there were better jobs out there. He didn’t need to accept the life he had then; he didn’t need to accept the life he had then. But my poor uncle seemed perfectly happy, like he was oblivious to modern world. But he does know how modern the outside world is; my dad had shown him before. But he was content the way he was.

I realized why my poor uncle was so happy, while my super rich one was so depressed. My poor uncle’s heart was simple. My rich uncle’s heart was sophisticated. My poor uncle only wanted what he needed, the bare necessities. My rich uncle literally wanted everything. My poor uncle was content with what he had, and didn’t need any sensual objects to be happy. My rich uncle would never be content, he would always need more. And so he would try to earn more. This was a vicious cycle of needing more to be happy, with him never being happy, because he needed more. I believe that in order to be happy, you need to be simple.