Met an old bloke today. Probably in his fifties.
He was happy – smiling and whistling to himself. Not that I met him in happy circumstances.
He was in his small claustrophobic office doing his work. We know his office well. It is also called the public restroom. No he wasn’t spending time there because of a bad stomach. It was just his daily job. 8 hours of business to be done once others were done with theirs.
He said he traveled 2 hours one way from house, in an overcrowded train, every single day. 4 hours spent in traveling, in sweat and crowd, all to get a pittance, after being locked 7 days a week 8 hours a day in a tiny smelly room!
How could he possibly be happy and smiling and whistling? The only possible answer to this question is that happiness is in the mind.