In this body is a limitless stretch of calm seas; it this itself a star-lit sky with countless stars.
In this body is the most precious paras jewel; in this itself the appraiser of jewels.
Readers, welcome to the city of Uttam Pradesh, which is in the state of Uttarakhand.
Where, upon waking, the citizen looks for mishaps in the newspapers to start his day with.
Reads the same news over and over again.
Looking for happiness in the newspapers.
Murder, theft, deceit, sycophancy, he fills his head with news about these.
Reads the daily horoscope section to find out whether or not the day will bring happiness.
Where the industrious ones are busy in gossip, the rest in stories about the clash between mother-in-law and sister-in-law.
There's a restless searching after happiness, O' a searching after happiness.
That's why a person with a full head of black hair dyes it with other colors...
and fairness creams sell like crazy.
Where, in the pursuit of happiness, the entire nation has turned into a marketplace.
Where man will sell his soul any moment just for some "things."
To such a land of Uttam Pradesh (UP), welcome, welcome, welcome!
Anchor, why is the minister walking towards the palace looking so worried?
You don't know? The king has taken ill, and everyone's helpless.
Your majesty!
Can no one find me a cure?
Royal Highness! In your kingdom, imported milk sells at every street corner. Merchants, lenders and banks lend money even for rice, flour, dahl and ghee.
"Live like a king as long as you live, even if you have to borrow for it," is the motto of your subjects.
"Borrow money if you have to, but drink ghee."
When your own country is happy even with all that debt, then having everything, why are you so unhappy, O great king?
Because I am unhappy. Listless. Apathetic.
I don't find your comedy dramas entertaining.
Your dancers, singers, they bring me no joy.
The discourses of saints, they have no effect on my plight.
My Lord, just say the word, and we'll arrange for a country-wide sports fesitival. May be that'll drive out the moribundity?
Meagre titilations are they are, your sports festivals too have stopped having any effect on me.
Then what may we do to bring you peace?
Announce in the entire kingdom, "Whosoever tells me the secret to being happy will be abundantly rewarded."
"Hear, hear, O residents of UP, hear!"
"The king is in great sorrow. Because he cannot find happiness."
"He has no dearth of things that give pleasure and comfort. But he is not able to experience happiness."
"Celebrity, glory, fame, wealth, beautiful women, children, servants! But joy has, as though, suddenly fled away!"
"Whoever tells him how to be happy will receive limitless treasures and praise and fame."
"Hear, hear, O countrymen!"
The king is not happy?
This is the talk of the town now. That the king is unhappy. He's depressed.
Anchor, how can that be? He who has everything doesn't have happiness?
THIS is the mystery of life. If happiness came from things, why would he have been unhappy?
If happiness could have been purchased, it would be selling in shops.
So, then, did someone tell him the way?
Upon hearing this announcement, a poor saint visited the palace to meet the king.
There's one cure, O King.
What?
If the king were to wear the shirt of man who was happy.
Are not my ministers basking in joyous happiness?
No, King. Far from it.
Why aren't they happy?
Every moment spent in the defense against royal politics, in fearing the king's anger, and in fearing the loss of all royal comforts, how can such a lot be happy?
Are you not happy, O holy one?
He who a desire to get something, how can he be happy?
But my kingdom isn't short of happy people. I am sure.
Go, get me the shirt of the richest merchant in the kingdom.
Are you happy?
Meaning?
You have complete monopoly over the market. You have influence over thousands of people. Is there still something you want?
You say it right, sir. But...until every lamp is lit with the oil I sell, every body covered with the cloth I sell, every household the buyer of my brand, till then how can I stop wanting?
And if these desires are misery, then certainly, I am not a happy man.
If you want, you can have my shirt. That's not a problem. May be the king might get relief from his pitiable plight?
Then the king's soliders went to the most celebrated actor.
It is another matter, though, that the guy had little to do with the skill and devotion required to perform.
Shirt? How many do you want?
Just one, Mr. Om.
No trouble at all! Take 10 or 15 if you like. I only wear a shirt once. I have thousands of them.
And happiness?
Meaning?
There's no actor equal of yours. You're a stalwart among other actors. Every mother sees a son in you. Your admirers do not tire of doting over you. You have even obtained the highest honor that one can, in the country.
Damn right you are!
But until people forget actors of the yesteryear, how can I have a moment of peace?
So what do you want then?
I want to see my picture wherever I look.
On roads, every street, on milk bottles, me, me me everywhere!
I want to win over everyone's heart.
And acting?
[Famous cricketeer in a photo shoot]
This picture of yours will be posted everywhere.
With the words, "Jeevan Sudha Ras! The great power giving tonic!"
People will go mad about you when they see this ad.
Yes, sir, tell me?
If you're happy, then we want your shirt.
I was auctioned just yesterday. As the costliest player. Now, even my shirt does not belong to me.
One merchant pitted against another, a poet jealous of another, an actor unable to stand the success of another...
Some place, the students don't yield to the teacher.
Some place, the wife doesn't yield to the husband. Some place, the other way around.
Some place, the son doesn't yeild to the father.
Poverty, competition, jealousy.
Distress, disappointment, pain.
The king's soliders searched high and low, but they couldn't find a single happy soul in the entire kingdom.
Wherever they looked, they found people chasing after happiness.
"Hear, O residents, hear! Any happy man who takes his shirt to the king will receive a huge reward."
Lo, it is now even being announced.
"And if found that he has lied about being happy, will be punished severely."
Anchor, did the king find a happy man?
Actress, soliders and ministers were on the lookout.
One day, while searching, they reached a village. Heat-scorched and thirsty, they were dead tired.
In the search for a happy man, the king has made OUR lives miserable.
I don't get it, honestly. Is the whole of the world unhappy or what?
How are you doing, bloke?
mmm...mmm...happy!
...I...m...happy!
What did you say?
I am happy.
Hey, did you hear this? We found a happy man.
Are you happy?
How many times should I repeat one sentence? Yes, I am happy.
But where's your shirt?
Shirt?
Did you not hear the announcement? The king wants a happy man's shirt.
But...I don't have a shirt.
What? You don't have a shirt? Then, how do you say you are happy?
My happiness does not come from shirt. I AM happiness itself.
O Provider, he says his happiness does not come from a shirt. And that he is happiness himself.
He's happy, but he doesn't have a shirt. So...(we can't bring you one).
Minister, get him here.
Why? Does the king need a ride on my cart? But he must have all kinds of elephants, horses, chariots...
Boora, he doesn't need a ride. He wants to you meet you.
But what will I do meeting him?
May be he wants to reward you?
And what will I do with that?
Perhaps you'll get happier? With the reward and all? Buy a shirt with that?
Sir, I am happy even without any shirt. And I know that wealth can only buy things? But can those things give happiness?
And for someone filled to the brim with happiness, where is the room for more?
If the king wants to meet me, he can come here. I'll meet him.
The cart-man has refused to come here, O Provider.
If the Provider wishes (to meet him), Your Lordship will have to go there.
And the king along with his caravan arrived at the cart-man's.
Boora...
I won't be able to give you a ride just now. My bullocks are tired. They need rest.
Boora, the Provider is here to meet you.
Tell me, sir.
Boora, whatever you ask for, I will give you. Elephants, horses, men and women servants, slaves, anything. Anything at all! But tell me the secret to happiness.
I am sleepy, king. Let me sleep now.
The king was astonished. The second time, he came again with big troupe.
Boora...elephants, horses, slaves, men and women servants, how so ever many you want, just ask! But at least tell me the secret to happiness, no?
King, I am happy without any of that nuisance. Come another time.
What do you want, Boora! Just say the word. Try me!
Please at least tell me that secret of being happy, no?
Only a fool can try to tempt someone who is brimming with happiness already.
Go, king, go! Come again some other time.
The king went away. He couldn't wrap his around what exactly would make Boora talk. What did Boora want?
Then one day, suddenly, the king appeared alone in front of the cart-man.
Your Lordship!
Oh, you! You've come again?
Until you tell me the secret to happiness, I will keep bothering your majesty.
Can you scratch my back? Yes, Master!
Leave it, let it go! Sit.
Had you come like this the first time, without all that haughtiness, you'd have saved yourself the trouble of scratching my back.
Ask. What do you want to know?
What kind of irony is this? One who owns a billion shirts has no peace of mind! And one without any is supremely happy?
King, it's the Self that is the source of all happiness, not a shirt (or any "thing").
He who realizes that the source of happiness is within, does not reach after objects outside in search of happiness.
But the mind always hankers after outside objects in order to gain happiness?
That is why, O king, he who comes face-to-face with his own Self, which is an embodiment of bliss, that person's outside search stops.
I don't understand.
O king, the Self is an embodiment of bliss. Since the Self is limitless, so is its bliss limitless.
It is due to this bliss-nature of the Self that a person loves himself.
Have you ever thought about this? When a man is old, sick, feeble, with death knocking at his door, still he wants to carry on living? Why?
Because every individual loves himself.
If the nature of the Self were unhappiness, would a person have loved himself so much?
Have you ever wondered why someone contemplates suicide?
No, Master.
What is the thought of suicide?
Why, under the siege of emotion, does one think of killing oneself?
The desire to kill oneself is also born out of love for one's own self.
When one cannot see a way out of misery and pain, out of ignorance, one thinks that suicide will be the way out of it.
So much does a person love himself. That he is ready to kill himself.
If happiness is within, then why does man run around looking for it outside?
Because he loves himself.
Whatever a man desires -- wealth, wife, husband, son -- are all instruments or simply means and not the end. The end is happiness for himself.
One becomes ready to leave even that which he held dearest to him, if that object or person starts to give him unhappiness.
That is because: man loves himself only the most.
Whether a man is moving towards the attainment of worldy pleasures or away from them, it is all to the same end: his own happiness.
So much love for himself: that either he will have all the world, or have none of it.
This self-love is proof of the bliss-nature of one's own real Self. Of one's own Soul.
If it wasn't this way, man would have loved pain and sorrow.
Unaware of the infinite well-spring of bliss within, we foolishly seek after small, fleeting pleasures outside.
Just as a king, unaware of his royalty, thinking himself to be a pauper, goes around begging for alms.
This is how strong the veil of ignorance is.
Therefore, O King, relations and objects of this world do not give permanent happiness.
But the joy born of beholding the Soul is eternal and infinite.
How is that permanent?
King, the joy experienced when seeing an object we desire is called "priya".
Upon obtaining the object, that joy grows manifolds. Such joy is named "mod."
When we partake of that object, that joy of intimacy with that object is much greater and is known as "pramod."
But as soon as we are separated from that object, that pleasure is gone.
Therefore, O king, the pleasure derived from the possession of objects and or relations of this world is transient.
But the joy of the Soul is both ever-lasting, that is, permanent and also infinite.
This discussion between Boora and the king went on for hours, which, in the Vedanta is documented under the title "Anand Mimamsa."
The kinds of joy, the circumstances in which joy arises, its source and the nature of happiness, Boora explained it all.
At the end, the king asked that question, which is perhaps in all of our minds just now.
O noble one, if I am that Self, whose bliss is independent of circumstance, and is inifite, then why don't I experience that infinite bliss all the time?
King, with the eyes closed, you only see darkness.
Likewise, so long as look for happiness in the objects of this world, you will be deprived of the joy of the Self.
The fault, therefore, is in perspective.
From outward, turn inward if you wish to experience that bliss.
So, anchor, does that mean that we search for happiness because we ARE happiness? So, we seek ourselves actually?
That's right, actress!
That is why we spend our entire lives searching for it. What we ARE, we keep looking for.
We ARE bliss, therefore we expect it. Not knowing this truth is the cause of unhappiness.
Therefore, actress, look not outside, but look inside.
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