Happiness in the Moment vs Lasting Happiness: Are We Chasing the Wrong One?

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What kind of happiness are we really chasing? The quick flashes that brighten a moment, or the quieter kind that slowly shapes a life?

Happiness is one of those words everyone uses confidently and few people define carefully. Ask ten people what it means, and you will probably hear ten different answers. Yet most of us recognise two very different forms of it in our own lives. One appears suddenly and fades almost as quickly. The other arrives slowly and lingers, shaping the background of our days without drawing much attention to itself.

Two Different Experiences of Happiness
The first kind is happiness in the moment. The second is happiness that stays. We rarely stop to examine the difference between them, but the distinction quietly shapes many of our choices. Should we enjoy the small pleasures available today, or should we postpone them in the hope of building something deeper and more durable? Is delayed gratification the mark of wisdom, or simply another way of pushing happiness further into the future? The answers are not as obvious as they seem.

The tension between these two types of happiness sits quietly inside many of our daily choices. Should we prioritise the small joys available today, or should we work towards a more durable form of happiness later? Should we delay gratification in the hope of something better in the future? Or is that simply another way of postponing life? None of these questions have simple answer. But the distinction itself is worth examining.

The Happiness That Passes and the Happiness That Stays
Momentary happiness has a particular power because it is tangible. You can feel it in real time. It does not require patience or interpretation. A meal enjoyed slowly, a message from a friend, a walk in the evening when the air finally cools. These experiences are small, but they anchor us in the present moment in ways that abstract goals rarely do. In difficult periods of life, these brief flashes of happiness can be essential. When responsibilities feel heavy or circumstances are uncertain, it is often the smallest pleasures that carry us through the day. They remind us that life is still happening now, not only in the distant future we are trying to build.

Yet momentary happiness can also make people uneasy. For some of us, happiness that arrives too easily raises suspicion. If something feels good immediately, we wonder whether it is superficial or temporary. Perhaps it will disappear as quickly as it arrived. Perhaps it was never real in the first place. This suspicion is not entirely irrational. Modern life offers endless forms of stimulation disguised as happiness. Social media notifications, impulse purchases, and constant entertainment. These experiences are engineered to create small bursts of pleasure while asking very little from us in return. The result is a curious paradox. Happiness in the moment is both essential and potentially misleading. It can either refresh us or distract us. The difference often lies not in the experience itself, but in the role it plays in our lives.

A quiet cup of tea can be a moment of rest. But endless scrolling through a phone is also a form of momentary pleasure. One restores attention. The other slowly erodes it. So the question is not whether happiness in the moment is good or bad. The more useful question is whether it leaves us clearer or more depleted afterwards.

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The Slower Happiness that Builds over Time
The second type of happiness is harder to identify because it rarely feels dramatic. It develops slowly through repetition. A routine that supports your health. A relationship that deepens over the years. Work that gradually becomes more aligned with your abilities. Even something as simple as financial stability can create a form of happiness that is less visible but deeply reassuring. This kind of happiness tends to feel less like excitement and more like steadiness. It lowers the background noise of life.

When people talk about building a meaningful life, this is usually what they are referring to. It is the accumulation of choices that creates a structure in which life feels livable. But this form of happiness has its own complications. Sometimes it does not even feel like happiness while it is happening. It simply feels like life becoming a little easier to live.

First, it requires patience. Many of the habits that eventually produce lasting happiness feel neutral or even tedious while they are being built. Exercise rarely feels magical in the moment. Saving money requires restraint. Learning a skill involves long periods of feeling incompetent.

Second, the pursuit of lasting happiness can sometimes become rigid. In an effort to build a stable future, people can begin postponing every form of enjoyment in the present. Life becomes a sequence of conditions that must be met before happiness is allowed.

Once this project is completed, I will relax.
Once this goal is achieved, then I will enjoy life.

The problem is that these conditions rarely end. There is always another milestone, another responsibility, another improvement that seems necessary before happiness can finally begin. When this happens, the pursuit of lasting happiness quietly transforms into permanent postponement.

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The Question of Delayed Gratification
Few ideas are praised more consistently than delayed gratification. It appears frequently in discussions about discipline, financial planning, education, and productivity. The logic seems straightforward. If we resist immediate pleasures, we will eventually gain something more valuable. In many situations, this is true. Choosing long term health over short term comfort, or saving money rather than spending it impulsively, can lead to real benefits.

But delayed gratification is not automatically virtuous. It depends on what exactly is being delayed and why. Sometimes we delay gratification because we genuinely value something in the future more than the pleasure available now. In these cases, the trade-off is clear and intentional. At other times, delay comes from a different place. It may come from fear of enjoyment itself. When happiness has disappeared before, learning not to trust it can feel like a form of protection.

For some people, happiness feels slightly dangerous. If something is good, perhaps it will be taken away. If something comes easily, perhaps it was never deserved. The safest option is to keep happiness at a distance. Under those circumstances, delayed gratification is not discipline. It is a form of emotional caution.

There is also another complication that receives less attention. Sometimes people delay gratification for goals that are not truly their own. They pursue milestones that society approves of without pausing to ask whether those milestones actually produce happiness in their own lives. Years later, the goal is achieved, and the anticipated happiness never quite arrives. The issue was not patience. The issue was direction.

Seen this way, the difference between momentary happiness and lasting happiness is not simply a question of time. It is a question of how we relate to our own lives. One invites us to experience the present. The other asks us to shape the future.

When Spending Creates Happiness
Money introduces another layer of complexity. On the surface, spending money often looks like the purest form of momentary happiness. A purchase provides immediate satisfaction and the promise of enjoyment. But the value of spending depends heavily on context.

Some forms of spending genuinely enrich life. Travelling to a place you have long dreamed of visiting, for instance, can create memories that stay with you for decades. Shared experiences with family and friends often fall into this category as well. In these situations, spending money supports happiness that extends far beyond the moment of purchase. Other spending serves a different purpose. It temporarily relieves boredom or stress without addressing the underlying problem. The satisfaction fades quickly, leaving only the impulse to repeat the experience again.

The difference between these two forms of spending is not always obvious at the time. But over months and years, the patterns become clear. Some expenses become meaningful stories in our lives. Others become forgettable attempts to fill empty moments.

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The Quiet Influence of Hustle Culture
Modern culture often complicates our relationship with happiness even further. In many environments, happiness is treated as something that must be justified through productivity. Rest should improve performance. Hobbies should develop marketable skills. Even relaxation becomes a tool for becoming more efficient later. This mindset leaves little room for happiness in the moment. If enjoyment does not contribute to long term goals, it begins to feel wasteful.

But a life organised entirely around productivity risks becoming narrow. People may achieve impressive milestones while quietly losing contact with the everyday experiences that make life enjoyable. Ironically, the absence of small, immediate pleasures often makes long term goals harder to sustain. Without moments of rest, humour, or connection, discipline eventually begins to feel like punishment. Lasting happiness rarely grows out of relentless effort alone. It usually develops when effort is balanced with moments that remind us why the effort matters.

Balancing the Two Forms of Happiness
Rather than choosing between momentary happiness and lasting happiness, most people need some combination of both. Momentary happiness keeps life vivid. It reminds us that the present moment is not simply a waiting room for the future. Lasting happiness provides structure. It ensures that life does not drift aimlessly from one pleasant distraction to another. When either form dominates completely, problems begin to appear.

A life focused entirely on immediate pleasures often becomes unstable. Without deeper commitments or routines, satisfaction remains shallow and temporary. A life focused entirely on future happiness can become rigid and joyless. When enjoyment is constantly postponed, the future becomes a moving target that never quite arrives. The challenge is not choosing one type of happiness over the other. The challenge is recognising when one has quietly replaced the other.

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A Slightly Uncomfortable Ending
There is a final possibility worth considering. Sometimes our relationship with happiness says less about happiness itself and more about what we believe we deserve. People who distrust quick happiness often believe that good things should require effort. If something arrives easily, it feels suspicious. Perhaps it will vanish. Perhaps it was never real. At the same time, people who constantly delay happiness may be practising a form of protection. If you never fully allow yourself to enjoy something, you never have to risk losing it.

But life does not always follow these rules. Some of the most meaningful experiences in life arrive unexpectedly. A conversation, a friendship, a moment of clarity. They appear without careful planning and remain long after the moment itself has passed.

The deeper question may not be whether happiness lasts or disappears. The deeper question may be whether we allow ourselves to recognise it when it appears. Because happiness in the moment and happiness that stays are not always separate things. Very often, the happiness that remains with us began as a small moment we almost dismissed.

Life rarely delivers happiness in the neat categories we invent for it. And sometimes the difference between the two lies simply in whether we were willing to receive it. Happiness that stays often begins as happiness we almost ignored.

In My Hands Today…

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False Allies: India’s Maharajahs in The Age of Ravi Varma – Manu S. Pillai

India’s maharajahs have traditionally been cast as petty despots, consumed by lust and luxury. Bejewelled parasites, they cared more, we are told, for elephants and palaces than for schools and public works.

The British cheerfully circulated the idea that brown royalty needed, enlightened, white hands to guide it, and by the twentieth century many Indians too bought into the stereotype, viewing princely India as packed with imperial stooges. Indeed, even today the princes are either remembered with frothy nostalgia or dismissed as greedy fools, with no role in the making of contemporary India.

In this brilliantly researched book, Manu S. Pillai disputes this view. Tracking the travels of the iconic painter Ravi Varma through five princely states from the 1860s to the early 1900s, he uncovers a picture far removed from the clichés in which the princes are trapped. The world we discover is not of dancing girls, but of sedition, legal battles, the defiance of imperial dictates, and resistance.

We meet maharajahs obsessed with industrialization, and rulers who funded nationalists, these men anything but pushovers for the Raj to manipulate. Outward deference aside, the princes, Pillai shows, forever tested the Raj from denying white officials the right to wear shoes in durbars to trying to surpass British administrative standards. Good governance became a spectacularly subversive act, by which maharajahs and the native statesmen assisting them refuted claims that Indians could not rule themselves.

For decades this made the princes heroes in the eyes of nationalists and anti-colonial thinkers a facet of history we have forgotten and ignored. By refocusing attention on princely India, False Allies takes us on an unforgettable journey and reminds us that the maharajahs were serious political actors, essential to knowing modern India.

Social Media: Yaay or Nay in the Age of Endless Scrolling

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Social media usually begins with a very small promise.

“I’ll just check for a minute.”

A minute sounds harmless. Yet anyone who has opened a social media app knows how elastic that minute can become. You open a platform to reply to a message or check an update. A video appears. Then another. Then another. Before long, half an hour has slipped past without much awareness of where it went.

Social media has become so woven into daily life that it no longer feels like technology. It feels like background infrastructure. It sits beside our morning coffee, accompanies us on train rides, and often becomes the last thing we see before sleep.

You can see this most clearly in public spaces. A train carriage full of people travelling together, yet each person is looking down at a small glowing screen. Occasionally, someone smiles at something on their phone or frowns at a comment, reacting to a world invisible to everyone else in the carriage. The physical journey continues, but everyone is briefly somewhere else.

For some people, spending twelve to fifteen hours across different platforms is not an exaggeration but a typical day. Teenagers, working adults, parents at home, retirees; the pattern cuts across age and occupation.

So the question arises again and again. Is social media a yaay or a nay?

The answer rarely sits comfortably on either side. Social media can feel beneficial and exhausting within the same afternoon. It can expand our view of the world while quietly shrinking our attention. It can connect people across continents and yet leave individuals feeling oddly dissatisfied. Perhaps the real question is not whether social media itself is good or bad. The more interesting question is what it does to the habits of our minds and the rhythm of our days. Because the cost of social media is rarely measured in hours alone. It is measured in patterns.

Social media is not one thing
Discussions about social media often become unproductive because people treat it as a single entity. In reality, it performs several different roles at the same time. First, it is a communication tool. It allows people to exchange messages instantly, share photographs, and maintain contact with friends and family who live thousands of kilometres away. Second, it is an attention marketplace. Most platforms are free to use because attention itself has become the product. The longer users remain on the platform, the more advertisements they see and the more data is generated about their interests. Third, it functions as a mirror. Reactions in the form of likes, views, comments, and shares subtly shape how people present themselves and how they interpret their own lives.

When people argue that social media is simply a neutral tool, they usually focus only on the first role. That interpretation feels reassuring because it suggests that everything depends on personal discipline. But the marketplace and the mirror complicate matters. Markets are designed to hold attention, and mirrors inevitably change how we stand in front of them.

This is why two individuals can use the same platform and come away with completely different experiences. One person may discover new ideas, creative inspiration, and meaningful communities. Another may feel distracted, dissatisfied, and strangely tired. The platform remains the same. The internal experience does not.

Which raises a more interesting question: if the platform itself has not changed, why do some people leave it feeling energised while others leave it feeling strangely depleted?

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The genuine “yaay”
Before criticising social media, it is worth recognising what it has genuinely improved. One clear benefit is connection. Families and friendships today often stretch across different countries and time zones. Social media allows daily life to travel across those distances. A photograph of a meal, a short video from a celebration, a quick update about work or school. Individually, these moments seem small, yet together they keep relationships alive.

Another benefit is access to knowledge. Cooking tutorials, photography tips, language lessons, book discussions, and professional advice. While the internet certainly contains unreliable information, it has also created unprecedented access to learning. There is also the possibility of creative expression. In previous decades, many people needed publishers, editors, or institutions to share their work. Today, an individual can write, photograph, film, design, or teach directly online.

Perhaps most interesting of all is the ability to see lives different from our own. Social media exposes people to cultures, experiences, professions, and perspectives that might otherwise remain invisible. A single feed can contain a scientist explaining a concept, a chef demonstrating a recipe, a traveller documenting a city, an artist sharing a sketch, and an ordinary individual reflecting on daily life. At its best, social media expands the visible world. Yet benefits alone rarely tell the full story of any technology.

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The tension behind the screen
The difficulty appears when we examine how social media platforms are designed. These platforms are not simply neutral meeting spaces. They are businesses built around engagement. Their success depends on keeping users active for as long as possible. Features such as endless scrolling, autoplay videos, personalised recommendations, and notifications are not accidental. They exist because they are effective at holding attention. This creates a subtle tension between the user and the platform.

You may open an app to relax for a few minutes. The platform, however, is designed to keep you slightly stimulated. Calm users tend to close the app. Stimulated users tend to continue scrolling. Over time, this produces a particular mental rhythm. One emotional reaction quickly replaces another. Amusement becomes irritation. Curiosity becomes outrage. Inspiration becomes comparison. Nothing lasts very long, yet the stream never stops. The strange result is that a person may spend hours on social media and still feel as if nothing meaningful happened during that time.

Attention: the quiet currency of modern life
For most of human history, attention was shaped largely by the physical world. A person’s focus moved between work, conversation, reading, rest, and observation of the environment around them. These rhythms were imperfect but relatively stable. The digital age changed that balance. Today, attention has become something that companies actively compete for.

In economic terms, attention is now a form of currency. Every notification, recommendation, autoplay video, or suggested post is part of a larger system designed to keep that currency circulating within the platform. The longer attention remains there, the more valuable it becomes. This does not necessarily mean the system is malicious. It simply means it is designed with a particular objective.

The difficulty arises because human attention is limited. When it becomes scattered across hundreds of small fragments throughout the day, the mind rarely has the opportunity to settle into deeper forms of thought.

A long conversation.
A challenging book.
A quiet walk without interruption.

In earlier generations, people worried about how they spent their money. Today it may be just as important to notice how we spend our attention. And wherever attention settles, life slowly follows.

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Does social media affect the brain?
The possibility that social media might influence the brain is frequently debated. Some claim that it permanently damages attention. Others dismiss such concerns completely.

The truth sits somewhere in between.

Researchers studying heavy social media use have observed links with differences in brain systems related to reward and impulse control. These systems influence how people respond to immediate gratification and how easily attention shifts between tasks.

However, scientists remain cautious about claiming direct cause and effect. It is difficult to determine whether social media creates these patterns or whether individuals with certain tendencies are more likely to use platforms heavily.

What is clearer are the everyday consequences. Late-night scrolling often reduces sleep. Frequent notifications interrupt concentration. Emotional content can create rapid shifts in mood. The more realistic concern is not permanent damage but habit formation.

The brain becomes efficient at whatever it practises. When people spend long periods moving rapidly between short pieces of content, slower activities such as reading or reflective thinking can begin to feel unusually demanding. Fortunately, habits can change. When interruptions decrease, and attention is given longer stretches of focus, the mind gradually readjusts.

The quiet costs people often overlook
The effects of social media rarely appear dramatically. Instead, they accumulate quietly. Sleep tends to suffer first. A few extra minutes of scrolling before bed gradually become an hour. Fatigue follows the next day. Attention becomes fragmented. When phones are checked repeatedly, the mind learns to expect interruption even during quiet moments.

Comparison increases subtly. Social media displays carefully selected highlights from other people’s lives. Repeated exposure to these moments can create unrealistic expectations of everyday life. Relaxation becomes confused with distraction. Many people believe scrolling helps them unwind, yet it often leaves them mentally restless rather than calm.

At this point, it may be worth asking a small question. “When was the last time you closed a social media app and felt quietly satisfied rather than slightly restless?”

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Returning to choice
Completely abandoning social media is one possible response, but for most people, it is unrealistic. These platforms are now woven into work, communication, and culture. A more practical response is to treat social media as a relationship that requires boundaries.

One helpful step is distinguishing active use from passive use. Active use involves sending messages, sharing ideas, or intentionally seeking information. Passive use involves scrolling without a clear purpose. Reducing unnecessary notifications also helps restore control. When the phone stops constantly interrupting attention, the mind regains longer stretches of focus. Some people also choose to keep parts of their lives deliberately offline. Not every experience needs to be shared. Private moments often carry a different kind of meaning. The question is no longer whether social media exists in our lives, but whether we remain awake to how it shapes them.

So, yaay or nay?
Perhaps the question should not be answered once but revisited regularly. When social media helps us stay close to people we care about, it deserves a quiet yaay. When it introduces new ideas, perspectives, and creativity, another yaay. But when it replaces sleep, fragments attention, or leaves us feeling strangely dissatisfied after hours of scrolling, that may be the moment for a gentle nay.

Technology rarely arrives as purely helpful or purely harmful. More often it becomes what our habits allow it to become. Which brings us back to that small moment. You pick up your phone to check something quickly. A message, perhaps. A notification. This time you pause before the second swipe. Not because social media is entirely good or entirely bad, but because you have remembered something easy to forget.

Your attention is valuable. And how you spend it quietly becomes the shape of your life.

2026 Week 33 Update

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This was a short week because of the National Day long weekend giving us an extra day away from the usual routine. Somehow, though, nobody seems to have informed the rest of the week that it was supposed to be shorter. If anything, it felt as though five days of activity had been determinedly squeezed into four. Work was particularly hectic, with deadlines, meetings, revisions, decisions, and the inevitable last-minute changes competing for attention. There were moments when something that appeared finished suddenly needed another round of thought, and plans continued to evolve as new information came in. Yet beneath all that activity, there was progress. Things that had existed as ideas and conversations are becoming increasingly tangible, and the months ahead are beginning to take clearer shape.

Outside work, life continued with its familiar collection of small decisions and everyday preoccupations. There was planning for the future, thinking about finances and upcoming travels, making practical choices for home and life, and finding time for creative interests amidst everything else. Family life, too, continues to shift as everyone settles into their own routines and new chapters. Perhaps what struck me most this week was how many different versions of life can exist simultaneously. We can be busy and grateful, tired and excited, uncertain about some things while feeling completely sure about others. Not every week needs a single defining emotion. So, despite being a short week, this one somehow managed to feel very full. And as I head into the weekend, I’m quite happy to exchange momentum for a little stillness. Sometimes the best way to prepare for everything waiting ahead is simply to stop for a while.

This week’s quote is from Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali poet, writer, composer, philosopher, and artist whose work profoundly influenced Indian literature and culture. In 1913, he became the first non-European to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature, largely for his poetry collection Gitanjali. He also wrote the words that became the national anthems of both India and Bangladesh. Clouds are usually associated with approaching storms, darkness, and uncertainty. In Tagore’s imagery, however, they no longer represent something to fear. Instead, the same clouds become part of a beautiful sunset. Nothing about the clouds themselves has necessarily changed; what has changed is the way they are perceived.

Life often works this way. Experiences that once seemed painful, disappointing, or disruptive can acquire a different meaning when viewed from a distance. A failure may eventually redirect us towards something better. A difficult period may reveal strengths we didn’t know we possessed. Even loss, while never becoming something we would have chosen, can deepen our appreciation for what remains. The reference to the “sunset sky” also carries a sense of maturity. As we accumulate experiences, perhaps we become less frightened by every approaching cloud. We learn that storms pass, circumstances change, and difficult moments are only one part of a much larger landscape. Some of the experiences that complicated our lives may even add depth, wisdom, and richness to the people we eventually become.Tagore’s words therefore aren’t about pretending hardship is beautiful. They are about perspective. We may not be able to choose every cloud that enters our lives, but with time, healing, and understanding, we may discover that even some of our darker experiences have added unexpected colours to our story.

This week, in verse 18.58, the Bhagavad Gita tells us that every life contains obstacles. Some are external: difficult circumstances, losses, disappointments, and unexpected changes. Others are internal: fear, anxiety, pride, and self-doubt. Krishna’s message is not that obstacles will disappear. Rather, it is that we need not face them alone. Whether we understand this verse in a spiritual sense or as a reminder to trust something larger than ourselves, the lesson remains powerful. Strength often comes from recognising that we do not carry every burden by ourselves. When we stop trying to control everything, we create space for wisdom, support, and grace to enter. Inner courage is not the absence of vulnerability. It is the willingness to move forward despite it.

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This week I learned that authenticity is the key to living a life of freedom. When you let yourself be guided by your own inner truth instead of trying to fit expectations, life feels more fulfilling. You no longer feel pressured to maintain a curated version of your life or chase external narratives. The energy you once spent seeking approval can be redirected toward designing a life that makes you feel fully alive. The right opportunities and connections flow naturally to you when you choose yourself and stay grounded in who you are.

That’s all from me this week. Take care and remain positive because life is authentic!

In My Hands Today…

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Madam Commissioner: The Extraordinary Life of an Indian Police Chief – Meeran Chadha Borwankar

The incredible memoir from one of India’s most uncompromising police officers.

Meeran Chadha Borwankar graduated from India’s National Police Academy as the sole woman of its 1981 batch. From there, she would go on to investigate a long string of sensitive and controversial cases, fighting crime together with corruption and discrimination, never compromising on her integrity.

Meeran’s steadfast efforts saw her become Maharashtra’s first female district police chief as well as its first woman police commissioner. She also held senior roles at the Central Bureau of Investigation and Mumbai’s crime branch, eventually retiring as Director General of the Bureau of Police Research and Development and the National Crime Records Bureau. All through she remained unafraid to critique the country’s criminal justice system, challenging even those in the highest echelons until the rule of law prevailed.

In this candid account of her thirty-six years in Indian law enforcement, Meeran details the sensational cases that defined her from the Jalgaon sex scandal to jewellery heists, highway dacoities to communal riots, brutal murders to gang rapes, port thefts to financial frauds, and brushes with notorious criminals such as Chhota Rajan and Dawood Ibrahim’s sister Haseena Parkar.

As the state prisons chief, she navigated intense media and government pressure while overseeing Sanjay Dutt’s imprisonment and the executions of Ajmal Kasab and Yakub Memon, thereby outlining both the significance and challenges of donning the khaki. Gripping, thought-provoking and always inspiring, Madam Commissioner is as honest a memoir can get about life as a woman officer of the Indian Police Service. It is essential reading for anyone interested in the uniform and indeed for concerned citizens everywhere.