Secret of Happiness: One Simple Rule

A student coming from a third world country to USA has this great temptation to obtain immigration and settle down. This was not very difficult in the late 1980s and early 1990s when I was there. The decision to move back to Pakistan also becomes difficult if one has wife and children who had stayed in USA for so many years as the experience of a very prominent Pakistani in Austin exemplified. He had lived in USA for over fifteen years and wanted to serve Pakistan so he moved to Karachi with a lot of enthusiasm but had to return back to USA within a couple of years, as his family had become too much accustomed to the American Dream of enjoying the comfortable amenities of life in a suburb, with ease of outings and excursions, open spaces, visits to parks and malls, and above all, living away from the prying and interfering eyes of the relatives and their uninvited comments and “keeping up with the appearances”. And of course, without the daily irritants of load shedding, water supply disruptions, and wheel jam strikes, coupled with the environment of fear formed from mobile snatching, car-jacking, kidnappings for ransom, dacoities, bomb blasts and target killings. However, throughout my stay in USA I was under this great pressure of compulsion to return to my duty to my parents; to be with them, to take care of them in their old age and in their sickness.

When I came back I found my father old, frail and quite depressed because both of his sons had gone

to USA and people had been telling him not to expect anyone to return back as none ever do, especially once they have experienced the comforts of life there. The first week in Karachi, I saw him mostly confined to his room and in bed, even praying in his room, not even trying to join the ba-jamaat prayer in the mosque next doors citing one problem or the other, or asking for assistance. However, within a week of my coming, his spirits have lifted and he was his old self, going on his own to the mosque regularly. I know, he was proud that his son has proven many of those naysayers wrong.

Settling back in Pakistan at that time was quite tough. 1994-95 was the peak of random communal violence in Karachi, with news of 10-20 killings emanating from different localities regularly. There was no guarantee of what may happen next. The era of personal mobile phones had not yet arrived, so before I used to venture out I would give my itinerary to my father. He would track my movements and would call the landlines at every place I was scheduled to be to ensure that I have reached there safely. In fact, his concern was so great that the phone that I would hear ringing as I would reach a particular destination, would always invariably be from him! In case, I was late in reaching a place, people would tell me that they have already received so many calls from my father, and later I would of course get that reprimand from him. People, then, would not go out unless it was extremely necessary. The roads would wear a deserted look at around sundown which is the peak shopping time in Karachi. I remember driving full speed at 6-8pm through Tariq Road, which is one of the busiest commercial centers of Karachi, where on any regular day there is always bumper to bumper traffic moving at snail pace, stuck in traffic jams.

I had joined IBA full time, where salaries of teachers at that time were still at the level of paltry government grades; they had not shot up the way they did a decade later thanks to HEC, and thereafter to what they are currently. The building and work environment at IBA was still stuck in the early 1970s, with no major extensions or renovations having taken place for decades. A scene much different from the transformation that has taken place there during the last five years.

It was end of 1995 or 1996. I must have made some remark regarding how difficult it was returning back from USA and how much difficulty I was having in settling down. It was then that my mother asked me to sit down with her and in her gentle manner brought me to my senses. She said, “Son, you did very well to come back and stay with us, your old parents, and becoming our support in our old age. But, you know, I, personally, had no expectations in this regard. I love you and pray for your success and would always pray for your happiness because you are my son. However, I would have loved you the same and prayed for your success and happiness the same way even if you had decided to stay in USA, and you had not come back permanently.” In this gentle manner she described the ultimate essence of how to be happy, and how to avoid disappointments, and how to keep away from daily discouragements and setbacks in life that often fill our lives with misery and sadness.

What she was telling me was the simple rule that she had followed all her life: If you want to be happy never keep expectations from people; however close they are and however much they are indebted to you. Although the rule is simple, but understanding it first and then implementing it is difficult. It is often difficult for people to digest it because this is how they have been trained to think by our environment. This rule was driven in me that day in a very powerful personal context. I often think about this rule and its relationships to my other experiences as I try below to connect with the prevlanent attitudes towards life and interpersonal relations.

There are four important principles or corollaries of this rule:

1. People are weak and tempted. You are bound to be disappointed if you build such expectations with people. When they are not able to come up to your expectations, you will be sad and miserable. Why do this in the first place, if you want to be happy! 
2. If you have to keep an expectation then build that expectation with your creator, the  Omnipotent. He is the One who does not need you, but you need Him. “Allah us Samad” [Ikhlas].
3. When you do some favor, never do it with an expectation of any return. 
4. If you do a favor with an expectation of a return, it is not a favor, it is a trade! 

We had lived in Islamabad during the sixties and the seventies before moving to Karachi. Karachi was the city, with socialites and with social commitments. Islamabad was just a small  town of government servants mostly belonging to adjoining areas who would come during the week days for work, and the town would empty on the weekends as most of them would leave for their villages/cities to spend time with their families and in their social circles. When we moved to Karachi, my mother was often told that life in Karachi is different, and her principles and philosophies of life are not suited for this big city, where it is must to “keep up with the Joneses” and keeping up with the appearances is crucial, and people have to be responded in kind. She was reminded that her principles may have been useful or applicable in small towns or villages such as Islamabad, but definitely not in Karachi. She used to try to convince that these are not abstract philosophies. These are the tried and tested principles that have come down to us from various credible sources.

Practice of these principles gave her that internal happiness and glow in her face that people would often be surprised and taken aback when they came to know about the series of serious illnesses, operations and extensive hospitalizations that she had to go through during the last forty-four years of her life. Often during her hospitalizations after such serious operations, a new nurse or a doctor would mistake her young attendant to be the patient instead of her when per chance both would be sitting on the couch.

Essence of the first principle is derived from our culture and sufistic thought about “faqr o ghana“:

The point of contention in our interpersonal relations is that someone has done or said such and such and therefore they had to be responded in kind. This principle says one should be above any expectations from people, good or bad and this would lift you up.

As Meer Taqi Meer below describes beautifully the state of faqr (obliviousness) resulting from not having any expectations with people whom we ask for help, the common meaning of “jo dey us ka bhi bhala, jo na dey uss ka bhi bhala“:

Or as Ghalib would put it, and take it to the next level: