Feeling happy

Jatila had to cross the forest on his way to school but was scared to cross it all by himself.  He told about his fear to his mother who provided a solution. His big brother Madhusudhan, who lives in the forest, will join him from the next day, but Jatila has to call out for him. The next day Jatila reaches the forest edge and calls out for Madhusudhan, who does not come at first but after seeing Jatila’s persistence comes out and agrees to walk with him across the forest.

At this point in the story, Daivik started laughing. There was no obvious reason to laugh, I did not tell any joke, but there he was, laughing away. It was a splendid laughter, a deep throated one, and it was coming in waves. It was the sort of laughter that is so rare for its spontaneity, for its gaiety, for its merriment, for its sheer joy.  It was a laughter that transcended its source and delved deep into the being of the person. It is the sort of laughter that life has an uncanny way of taking away from you. I basked in the glory of that joyful laughter for a moment. But then, reason raised its head. What exactly is he laughing for? As one wave was subsiding, I asked him softly, “Daivik, what are you laughing for?”. “Jatila found Madhusudhan”, he said simply and continued to laugh. I did not understand. I repeated my question. “I’m happy”, he said, without elaborating further.

When I put the two together, I was stunned. Daivik was happy that Jatila found Madhusudhan, that Jatila does not have to cross the forest alone. And that happiness was coming out in the form of that laughter!  

“I’m happy for you”, we say this sometimes. We say this to people who have gained some form of happiness, a new car, a new home, a new job, a new partner, a promotion. We say this as a way to share that happiness.  We claim to feel the happiness of another person partly because we can identify with their situation, we can put ourselves, so to speak, in their shoes. We may even be genuine about it. Daivik’s identification with Jatila was so complete, so unalloyed by any traces of falsity,  that I doubt if Daivik could have been any happier had he himself been rescued from the situation. I seriously doubt if we, the non-Daivik's (and by Daivik, I include all his peers as well), with all our compulsions and complications, can reach this level of identification with another. And Jatila does not even exist!  Daivik’s case suggests that this state is, however, not entirely unreachable. Perhaps it is another instance of things that are innate in us which we “grow out” of as we “lose” our childhood.