My Agay’s Happiness

A happy person has a happy life.  A happy person is one who has fulfilled his unfulfilled dreams.  A happy person has fewer wants and he honorably stops his desire at one point.

The best example of a happy person was my late Agay. I didn’t see my Agay but I learned from my father that my Agay was a happy person. He had nothing but cheerful smiles on his lips, always.

“What makes him put a smile on his face every time?” I asked my father.

“It is nothing but happiness,” my father said.

One morning, my young Agay went to his neighbor’s house with his white teeth visible even from another hill.  What nonsense is my Agay to smile himself! And guessed what he did inside the neighbor’s home, he comforted the sad girl with his smiles. He won the love of the girl through his smile. And my Agay was the happiest person to beget her.

During my school days, I wrote many essays on a happy person. “The men who live happily make others happy. They are kind and friendly with others. They never hurt others and think bad about others. They don’t push their time back or forth, they exist in the present with lots of vigor, energy, contentment and peace. Those who are rich are not happy because their want and need are more. They always live in tenses and problems… and blah blah.”

Looking to some of my points above, now, my Agay fitted in very much or largely there. My Agay did the right in the right order to his future wife. I can imagine my Agay in his best positive values. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he behaved, would have always impressed others. He would have been called a laughing Buddha. Besides, he also sang distorted religious hymns that would distract his wife with laughter every so often. His face would have been always bright and would have never shown the darker slices of life. His truthfulness was the weapon behind the smile. His choices were less. He took less and gave more to his wife, I suppose.

“There was happiness in the past then?” I asked my father, who looked grim comparing his life with his father’s life.

“Now everybody is happy, and no time for unhappiness for myself. This GNH sucks!” My father covetously said.

Anyway, there is a truth in this Alexander Pope’s words, “Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air in his own ground.” And such was my Agay’s life, hard but happy.