“Why do these Tibetan monks look so happy?” he asked as we drove past a group of tourist-monks gleefully clicking photos on the streets of Chanakyapuri.
“There’s a certain liberation to be had when one does not hanker after material growth,” I mused. “They can’t dress any different, they can’t own anything more than what is bestowed on them, they are free in that sense from desire and longing for more and more possessions.”
We were quiet for a bit, evaluating our own situations. “I don’t hanker after wealth. But I would like to have a designer watch,” he said.
“But this longing does not consume you. The watch would just be something you’d enjoy, the way the monks are enjoying their cameras,” I corrected. I looked inward, and then added, “I don’t hanker after wealth either. I just expect it to be there.”
We held hands as we always do on the way to work, while the driver drove us in my dad’s Honda Civic — a ‘big’ car by Indian standards. Music played on the FM, the air-conditioning was on. We felt blissfully complete, not just because of the creature comfort, but because we had each other. And I knew that no matter what car we sat in, as long as I had that hand in mine, it would always be the most luxurious ride in the world.