The paradox of happiness: Why we fear what we seek

As much as we strive for everlasting joy, we often find ourselves wary of its fleeting nature, hesitating to fully embrace it

If there is one thing that we relentlessly pursue in life—the only thing we put all our pennies on in this big worldly gamble—it is happiness. The ultimate goal that we all crave is everlasting bliss. What charades and circuses we play to attain the state of eternal joy! While this rigmarole governs our everyday thoughts and actions,  another element sneaks in as soon as we reach our dream: Fear—the fear of losing the happiness that we know is ephemeral.

Come to think of it, much as we covet it, happiness frightens us. It also makes us wary of revealing our joys, and we often hide good things to avoid getting jinxed. Why do we fear happiness? Why do we think every moment of joy comes at a price?

The fear of happiness is a paradox embedded in the human psyche. It’s almost as if we’ve been conditioned to believe that joy is too fragile to last, that it carries an expiry date we cannot predict.

This belief turns happiness into a double-edged sword: on one side, it is the elation we strive for; on the other, it is the dread of its inevitable end. Where does this fear originate? Perhaps it stems from a deep-seated awareness of life’s impermanence.

We’ve all seen moments of bliss snatched away by unexpected turns of fate. A child’s innocent laughter may be followed by tears, a promotion at work may bring unforeseen stress, and a long-anticipated celebration may be marred by tragedy. These experiences condition us to approach happiness with caution, to brace ourselves for the fall even as we revel in the peak.This trepidation finds cultural expressions, too. Superstitions like “knock on wood” or “touch iron” are more than quaint habits; they are safeguards against the perceived fragility of joy. Similarly, the kaala teeka or talisman traditions reflect a universal belief that happiness attracts envy and, by extension, misfortune.

We place such conditions maybe because happiness, unlike sorrow, feels fleeting and illusory. Pain lingers and forces us to adapt, but happiness feels transient, like a butterfly—beautiful, delicate, and always ready to flit away. Is it fair to treat happiness as a precarious treasure? By fearing it, do we not dilute its essence and sabotage our ability to experience it fully? Modern life has made this paradox even more pronounced. With social media encouraging us to share our highs, celebrating joy has become a public event. On one hand, we feel validated by likes and comments; on the other, the exposure amplifies our unease.

Will the digital applause somehow disrupt the balance of our good fortune? These questions linger, even as we hit the “share” button with a smile.But perhaps the greater fear is not external—it’s internal. Happiness asks us to be present, to be vulnerable, and to believe that we deserve good things.

For many, this is a daunting proposition. When shaped by struggles or conditioned to expect the worst, joy feels foreign, even undeserved. The fear of losing it becomes a defence mechanism, a way of preparing ourselves for the inevitable end of happy times. It is important to recognise that happiness, like all emotions, is inherently fleeting. Accepting its impermanence allows us to savour it without clinging or dreading its end.

Happiness deserves the same grace.Vulnerability is the price of true happiness, and the courage to embrace it, however briefly, is what makes life rich. Sharing our joy—whether with loved ones or the world—is not an invitation to misfortune but an act of trust in the abundance of good things.

Let’s challenge the belief that happiness comes at a cost. Life’s highs and lows are inevitable, but they are not always sequential. A moment of joy does not necessitate a subsequent sorrow.

Joy, in its purest form, deserves to be embraced—without caution, without apology, and most importantly, without fear. It’s all easier said than done, I admit.

Beyond the screen: The hidden truths of our social media lives

Social media is a tool to make life more connected and interesting, it is not a measure  to judge worth and success of family and friends

Ever since social media sneaked into our lives, we have made it a shelf to display our lives’ wares. We paint our digital walls with milestones, memories, smiles, and sorrows. It’s a vibrant collage of life’s varied hues, yet what we post is often a curated version of reality. The smiles are brighter, the love is deeper, the vacations are grander, and the heartbreaks are more dramatic. But behind this veneer of filtered perfection, the raw and unfiltered truth often lurks quietly, hidden from the world’s gaze.

For a month, I posted pictures from my holiday—pristine landscapes, cheerful meals, and stylish getups—giving the impression that I was the happiest and luckiest person on earth. From the outside, it looked like life was a seamless tapestry of joy and contentment. But behind each post was a personal battle being waged in silence. While my timeline radiated unbridled joy, I was working on myself to remedy a tough health challenge. Why did I choose to post happy pictures when my reality was tumultuous? Was I pretending? Was I seeking validation? No. I was trying to reassure myself. I was reminding myself that happiness exists, that moments of beauty and joy still punctuate my life. Those posts were not deceit; they were lifelines. Glimpses of joy that I clung to as I navigated the storm within. And in sharing those moments, I was also hoping to pass on slivers of hope to others who might be fighting unseen battles. This is the duality of social media.

The laughter we see might be tears in disguise. The grand celebrations could be cloaked in anxiety. The tears shed publicly may be crafted for effect. What appears authentic can be artifice; what looks carefree can be layered with burdens. This is why we should not judge others based on what we see on their profiles. Why do people disguise their struggles and present happy pictures? It’s not necessarily deceit or a desire to mislead others.

Sometimes, it’s a way of keeping hope alive. When life’s challenges weigh heavily, projecting happiness can feel like a self-fulfilling prophecy. By sharing joy, even when it feels out of reach, we try to manifest it. We tell ourselves that happiness is not an illusion—it’s around the corner and within our grasp. We also do it for others. Social media can be a dark and overwhelming place filled with negativity, comparison, and distressing news. By sharing moments of beauty, love and humour, we offer small doses of positivity to those who might need them. But herein lies the trap. When we view others’ lives through the glossy lens of social media, we risk falling into the pit of comparison. We measure our own lives against the seemingly perfect lives of others and wonder where we went wrong.

We feel envious, resentful, or inadequate. But this comparison is unfair—because it’s based on incomplete information. What you see on social media is a highlight reel, not a documentary. To compare your behind-the-scenes reality to someone else’s carefully chosen highlights is to set yourself up for needless suffering. So, how should we approach social media with clarity and kindness? First, partake in others’ happiness without envy. Celebrate their joys as you would want them to celebrate yours.

Let their happiness be a reminder that good things are possible, even if they haven’t yet arrived in your life. Second, lend support in difficult times without judgment. If someone shares their struggles, resist the urge to undermine or dismiss them. Behind their words could be a pain far deeper than what they’ve expressed. Offer empathy, not assumptions. Be the steady presence that reminds them they’re not alone. Finally, take social media for what it is—a tool to make life more connected, more interesting and occasionally more fun. It’s not a measure of worth, success, or happiness.

From pages to people: Why writers need marketing to succeed

Writing a book is only half the battle. The other half — equally critical but often overlooked — is ensuring that it reaches its intended audience

As an author of seven books with a decent number of followers who swear by my work, I am still a largely unknown author. That’s an anomaly, considering the long decades I have spent polishing my craft and bringing out the most distilled form of writing I am capable of. Beyond a loyal circle of readers who follow my work, much of the world remains unaware of what I have to offer. What did I lack? Not literary vivacity, but an appetite to market my writing in a way that would earn it a top spot among contemporaries. Just as we have conceived a negative perception of wealth and shunned any open display or accumulation of it as vulgar, we have slapped self-publicity also with some uncharitable notions.

It’s often said that writers are inherently shy, reclusive beings who prefer the company of their thoughts and words over the glare of public attention. Most of us dream of creating something so profound that the world discovers it and celebrates it without our having to lift a finger to promote it. We yearn for our books to find their way into readers’ hands through serendipity rather than strategy. While this dream is undeniably romantic, the reality is far from it. In a world brimming with voices clamouring for attention, invisibility is not an option.It took me time to understand that sharing my work is not an act of self-indulgence; it is an act of respect toward my craft.

It is not hubris to present our work to the world; it is our responsibility. To my fellow writers and artists, I offer this perspective: showcasing our work is not something we do solely for ourselves. It’s a way of expressing gratitude for the skills we’ve been granted. It is an acknowledgement of the universe’s generosity and an effort to give back by letting our words reach those who might find meaning and inspiration in them.

Let’s face it: the literary world is saturated. Thousands of books are published every single day, each jostling for space in an overcrowded marketplace. Amid this din, how can anyone possibly stumble upon a book unless it’s brought to their notice? By showcasing our work, we’re not seeking undue attention; we’re simply ensuring that our creation has a chance to be seen and appreciated. Once upon a time, good writing was the golden ticket for a writer. Today, social media has taken on that role with unparalleled reach and immediacy. While humility is an admirable trait, excessive shyness can hinder the reach of our work. Imagine a painter hiding their masterpiece in an attic or a singer performing only in an empty room.

Writing, like any art, is meant for sharing. When we shy away from showcasing our creations, we deny our craft the audience it deserves. We owe it to ourselves and our readers to overcome this reluctance and step forward. By sharing our work, we’re saying, “Thank you for this talent. Here is what I’ve made of it.” It’s not about vanity; it’s about paying homage to the creative force within us. Writing can often feel like a solitary pursuit, but it doesn’t have to be. Social media offers us a unique opportunity to find our tribe — fellow writers, readers, and supporters who understand and appreciate our journey. These connections not only amplify our reach but also provide encouragement, feedback, and camaraderie that enrich our creative process.

There’s a lingering misconception that marketing diminishes the purity of art. But let’s reframe this: promoting our work is not about shouting louder than everyone else; it’s about ensuring that our voice is heard. It’s about creating a bridge between us and our readers, a pathway for our stories to travel and touch lives. it’s an act of service — to our art and to those it might inspire. So let us set aside our hesitations and embrace the stage that the digital age has offered us. In doing so, we ensure that our words, our art, and our essence leave a lasting impact on the world.