Moon at Half Past Noon

Field Notes on Happy People (and Me)
Inspired by Darvish
So I’ve been doing this thing.
Not “observing” like some high-IQ stalker,
but just… looking.
Because your notes, Darvish, they’re a bit much, aren’t they?
So much “suffering for the craft.”
I’ve got JEE prep and a cracked phone screen—I don’t need more gloom.
I wanted to see if anyone is actually winning at this.
Subject 1: The Librarian at the Desk
She’s got that specific “Aunty” energy—stiff cotton sari,
smelling like Mysore Sandal soap and old paper.
She spends all day hitting books with that heavy rubber stamp.
THWOCK. It’s the most final sound in the world.
She doesn’t look like she’s “chasing joy.”
She looks like she’s just… in the zone.
Like the rhythm of the stamp is enough.
She gave a chocolate to a crying kid in the Amar Chitra Katha aisle
without even looking up from her register.
It wasn’t a “moment.” It was just a thing she did.
I don’t want her life (too much dust),
but I like that she’s not trying to “manifest” anything.
She’s just there.
(Me, last night: We went to Social for Myra’s 18th. The music was so loud I could feel my teeth vibrating. We drank something blue that tasted like liquid detergent and took 400 photos just to get one where nobody looked mid. I was happy, I think. Or maybe I was just busy.)
Subject 2: The Cutting-Chai Bhaiyya
The axis of the whole street.
He’s juggling four glasses in one hand, shouting at a delivery guy,
and somehow remembers that the uncle in the grey suit wants “less sugar.”
He called me “Beti” and gave me an extra Marie biscuit because it was broken.
His happiness isn’t a “destination.”
It’s the fact that he’s the only person in this 14-million-person city
who knows exactly how I like my tea.
For three minutes, I wasn’t just another student in a coaching hoodie.
I was a character in his script.
(Me, last Sunday: Dad made us go to that Gurgaon wedding. Absolute circus. 40 degrees, heavy lehenga, and 1,000 relatives asking about my marks. But at 1 AM, my cousin and I sneaked onto the service stairs with a plate of cold paneer tikka. We watched the planes landing at IGIA and talked about running away to Goa. The air was 90% smog, but the vibe? The vibe was 100.)
You wrote about loneliness like it’s some grand, tragic physics equation.
But honestly? I think happiness is just a decent playlist.
Sometimes it’s the “main character” track—all bass,
walking down the street feeling like a movie.
But mostly, it’s just background noise.
The stuff you don’t notice until the Wi-Fi cuts out.
My happiness isn’t a “gallery” or a “tapestry” (sorry, that’s so mid).
It’s the 10 minutes after a mock test when the world stops feeling like a trap.
It’s the specific way the rain smells when it hits the hot pavement near the metro station.
It’s sending a brain-rot meme to the group chat and seeing everyone “heart” it instantly.
It’s finally getting to sit in my room, AC on, noise-canceling headphones on,
and just being a person. Not a daughter, not a student, not a “bright future.”
Just… a person.
I used to think if I wasn’t screaming with joy, I was failing.
Now I think there’s this whole other country.
It’s called “Fine.”
The weather is boring, but at least I can breathe.
Your world was a locked room, Darvish. You were looking for a key.
My world is a massive, chaotic WhatsApp group I can’t mute.
I’m not looking for an exit.
I’m just looking for the funny parts.
I see the uncle in the park doing that “laughing yoga”
and even though it’s cringe, he looks invincible.
I see the boys playing gully cricket,
using a plastic crate for wickets, shouting like it’s the World Cup final.
I see my mom humming some old Kishore Kumar song while she’s checking the lentils.
I don’t want their lives.
But knowing they’re happening makes the world feel less like a competition.
I’m not “looking through a window.”
I’m just on the train.
The seat is a bit torn, and the guy next to me is snoring,
but the view of the gulmohar trees is decent.
And that’s not deep. It’s just… true.
And that’s enough for now.
P.S. Sent that meme to Myra. She replied “dead” in two seconds.