I search for a place where happiness dwells. A place where I will walk alone, smelling the fallen leaves beneath my feet, listening to the sweet rustle of the solitary trees, and wrapping myself with the gentle breeze.

I search for a place where happiness dwells. A place where there will be no chaos, even if it is there, I will find my solace in the pages of the books I love to read, or the songs I love to sing, or the poetry I love to recite. Where I will find something to distract my mind from the relentless worries and instead, devote my time to something creative.

They say happiness is homemade. If it is true, then I ask them, how to find happiness in a home where every moment feels claustrophobic, everyone is busy mourning over past mistakes, calculating the loss they have made, and comparing the late runners with the ones who receive everything as per their ages, at the perfect hour when they are meant to have them? How to find happiness in a home where we are praying to God to show a ray of light to the path that will lead us to the destination where we will find our happiness, and He seems to be very busy in granting others’ prayers but doesn’t have time to pay His ears to our problems? How to find happiness in a home where every morning starts with lines of worries in those wrinkled faces and the young one has her first anxiety attack that shakes her body, making her feeble, broken, and hopeless?

I search for a place where happiness dwells. I don’t search for it because I am confined within this cage where it feels tough to breathe, but, I am searching for the place where I can take my parents to escape the negativity all around them. And we can start dreaming of the place called home, once again.

I search for a place where happiness dwells. Reading the book ‘Yashodhara’ takes me to the days when I was busy in my own world of thoughts, questions, and contemplation. When meditation was a daily ritual and returning to the material world with a blissful smile on my face was the best reward of the day for me.

Reading gives me happiness, but not every book that I read conveys something to be happy. There are books that give me knowledge, there are books that give me power. And there are books that give me peace, showing me how to become a literary prowess.

On the other hand, music fills my heart with the pain of longing and surprisingly, I find my happiness in that longing. That weeping eyes of mine, give me a sense of being with my very own thing and tell me the story that I have to write. Long, for long, it’s waiting to be told by me but the forgetful me loves to dwell in the devoid of confusion, and thus, the song is left unsung, and the story, left untold, begins its search for a new home.

And I remember what I was supposed to do, is left undone and I am extremely busy in all these things that still remain half-learned, half-known, and half-finished. I give my best in everything I do, whether it is a small task or a big thing that needs an iterative process to execute with the highest precision. Sometimes, I push my limits to give my best beyond my capabilities. To prove to the world, to my parents, and to myself, that I can. I can do it, yes, I am capable of doing this just like others. Meanwhile, I sacrifice my sleep, my healthy habits, my hobbies, my passion, literally, everything that feed my soul, in the search of that unseen place where I believe happiness dwells. And what do I get in return? A zero. Maybe to remind me of the truth that every journey begins from zero, and ends in zero. Life is a summation of your journey between one point of zero to the other point, and those who succeed to go beyond this zero, outlive their definition of Life.

I never wanted to climb the mountain, but I wanted to see what is there, beyond the chains of hills that always call me to travel to the foothills and find a dark cave to sit for my blissful escape.

I never wanted to be rich, but I never wanted to fold my hands in front of someone else to pay my bills. I never wanted to fall in love, but I wanted to taste the elixir of divinity that I could drink only in the path of love. I never wanted to get married, but I never wanted to live this life alone because this soul longs to feel complete with the sacred union. I never wanted to have children but I never wanted to refrain myself from the call ‘Maa’ from my adopted child.

Since childhood, I always wanted to walk on the unconventional road. I never wanted myself to take the path that everyone chooses, rather, I wanted to see the world through my own lens and choose something that makes me proud of myself. So that I can proudly fall in love with myself and say, yes, I am, the one I have always wanted to be.

Leaving this material world to embark on the quest of the unknown seems easy; but, living in this world, fighting with the problems, taking care of my dear ones, fulfilling their expectations, working on my desired profiles, and learning new truths about people, seem more difficult to me.

That one hour when I close the door of my room and plunge into the bliss of reading is my happy hour now. I love to spend time with myself; pondering upon my beliefs, questioning about my sorrows, and finding some moments of happiness within.

Building a happy home is difficult, but building your own happy palace within your homebody is not difficult as it seems. All you have to create some moments when you will define happiness in your own way; forgetting about others, you will question yourself, “What is happiness to me?”

Perhaps, the answer to this question, is the place where happiness dwells.