Memory
is a queer thing; most of it we take for granted, believing that we can’t do
much with it. We revise the scene when we were insulted several times in the day
we were insulted. The face of the person who insulted us continues to flash in
our mind for at least a few more days.
The
thought of those who helped us in one way or the other, not minding the
inconveniences caused to them, seldom occurs to us. The bulk of what must be
overlooked or forgotten keeps on piling up, but the soothing fragrance of a
vulnerable flower vanishes quickly in thin air.
We
curse the newspaper delivery boy for causing damage to the flowers planted in
pots kept in our balcony, and complain in harsh words whenever we happen to see
him. However, it never occurs to us to thank him for having delivered the
newspaper every day, notwithstanding the heavy rains and thick fog; because we
don’t remember it.
Is
it not strange that we take a keen interest in surveys to find relative happiness
indices so that we can complain about our surroundings, when we are well
settled in retaining unhappiness? If we retain unhappiness, how can we deliver
happiness?
Aren’t we the contributors of the source data of an adverse happiness index?
PROMOD KUMAR SHARMA
[The writer of this blog is also the author of “Mahatma A
Scientist of the Intuitively Obvious” and “In Search of Our Wonderful Words”.]
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