The Happiness Disease
বাংলাদেশের মানুষের একটা কমন ধারনা আছে — ধনী মানুষ মাত্রই অসুখী এবং অসৎ। ধনীদের জীবনে কোন সুখ নেই, তাদের সকল উপার্জন অবৈধ এবং তারা সবসময় অশান্তিতে আছে।
এটা অনেকটা আঙুর ফল টক প্রবাদের মতো।
“I’ll never achieve anything like him, so I’ll assume that he’s unhappy. That makes me feel better, helps me sleep at night.”
There’s nothing wrong with that, whatever makes us happy. Whatever makes us feel better about ourselves.
Who am I to judge anyway?
The problem is, most of the rich and the poor are actually unhappy all the same.
I’m not a specialist, so I never tried finding the reasons behind this. I just love how the people enjoy being unhappy. The term “দুঃখবিলাস” as Artcell has immortalized it.
Then I remember, I’ve seen a guy who owns a Prado in Bangladesh, complaining about being মধ্যবিত্ত and how hard the life is.
Maybe he was not satisfied about his status or just trying to escape from taxes.
Who knows? Who am I to judge?
Another concept that goes around in this country, that depression doesn’t occur among the poor.
বিষণ্ণতা একটি বড়লোকি অসুখ।
Then I remember that I’ve grown up reading জীবনানন্দ, বিভূতিভীষণ। They lived on the edge their whole lives and depression was a part of their lives, thus writing.
লবটুলিয়ার বন কেটে ফসলের ক্ষেত বানানোর দুঃখ এখনো কোন কোন সকালে উবারের জানালার গ্লাসে মাথা রেখে গান শোনবার সময় আমাদের মনে পড়ে।
পঞ্চমীর চাঁদ ডুবে গেলে কি ভেবে সে একগাছা দড়ি হাতে ঘুমন্ত স্ত্রী-সন্তান ফেলে অশ্বত্থের ডালের দিকে একা একা হেটে চলে গিয়েছিল, সেই প্রশ্ন আমাদের ক্লাউড বিস্ত্রোর গ্লাসের পাশে লোকদেখানো আমেরিকানো হাতে মনে পড়ে।
But, they were the finest writers of the Bengal. Their sadness and depression have made their writings this much pure and relentless.
Now, you can claim that you’re as talented as জীবনানন্দ or বিভূতিভীষণ, because of your depression.
I won’t judge you.
I haven’t tried to write anything new in last 2–3 years. Probably I was too busy, or I lost my passion for writing. Could be both.
I’ve been happy for a long while. I lived my life my way, nobody advised me to do better or ask me to do even better.
But I eventually did better each day, I was happy and free. For the first time in forever, I thought I found happiness.
Now, here I stand, doubting myself. Do I deserve it?
I’ve been a mean and the lowest kind of man my whole life. How would I deserve it? Why should I find happiness?
Maybe it called “দুঃখবিলাস” or সুখে থাকার অসুখ.
Maybe I miss being depressed and unhappy.
Maybe this weekend has got me and need to get busy with my work. It’s just that easy.
Maybe it’s both. Who knows?
I shouldn’t judge myself.
