Freya Dasgupta: Teeth sinking into soft, yum dark chocolate. Smell of gooey nutty fudge brownies. First drag of a cigarette. The aroma of steaming mutton curry. Thick rich taste of early morning coffee. Yellowing pages of old books. Fountain pens. Beautiful Arabic calligraphy. Smell of new books. Green. Miles and miles of blue. Old ships. Little puppies. White mice. Big, warm dogs. Cuddles. Grandma. Stealing achaar. Men in white reading namaz all in a row. Things I write getting published. Shopping spree. Clothes that fit. Wet grass. Rain. Flowers. Musical high. Having faith. Being trusted. Being of help. Giving. Happiness.
Saloni Tandon: How weird is it that I can’t even remember the last time I was happy, as in dance-with-joy, call-up-friends-at-3am, want-chocolate-cake Happy. Not that things don’t make me happy, because generally they do. I was happy when my niece was born or when my first article got published. I’m happy when I’m surrounded with books I love, or lazing in my favourite sofa back home. However, what is missing is that delirious, unabated joy, which has gotten lost somewhere in the rat-race of school, colleges and jobs. Whether it’s to do with the kind of person I am or my expectation of happiness, but I’m still waiting for it.
Khushi Khanna: Happiness makes me want to dance like a fool, stand in the rain, smile till my cheeks hurt, feel like I own the world. It’s a feeling. When I feel it, I know— at that moment— everything is ‘perfect’. It is watching the sunrise/sunset on a mountain. It is cycling down old lanes. A terrace, a bonfire, a hot cup of cocoa and friends. Hugging my family. Crackling up at a silent joke only my B.F.F and I can understand. It is a walk down memory lane—knowing each and every corner of my school has a memory; going back to school and knowing I am remembered. Holding a baby in my hands. A hug when I least expect it. A letter with scribblings from an old friend. Unexpected ice-cream and cookies at 3 a.m. Happiness is...I don’t know. I wish did!
Baishali Adak: Like, puhleez…just spare me. Happiness is not about ice creams and chocolates. It's only about kulfi-faluda. Rabri-faluda is even better. Happiness is ackshually about enough money to be able to buy my whole family all that they would ever want. Happiness is being Santa Claus to the people I love. And of course all the simple pleasures: the smell of earth after rain, the clean green leaves and thoroughly washed roads, the clear night-sky with stars, the thick fogs in the winters and the joy of the sun warming up my sweater... Peethe which mom makes in the winters. And the end of November... as my birthday approaches.
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