Imagine flowers without nectar (Rasa). Uggh! Useless. Now imagine life without emotions (Rasa), isn’t it the same thing?
You might disagree with this assertion but let me take you on a tour of emotions. A tour to behold the magnificent evocation of Rasa and to experience it with nothing other than Rasa. Rasa is in everything, oops! Let me correct myself, everything has(ya) Rasa. In the next few paragraphs, I’ll manifest what Hasya Rasa means to me, my sense organs, you, and the world. Let’s go!
Hasya Rasa
Hasya Rasa is the Rasa of joy and laughter. This Rasa connects us to our sense of humor through laughter, happiness, and contentment. When we laugh, it is easier to slip into a no-mind state. Because the mind has been freed from its usual workload of thoughts, and we can simply be open, free, and happy at that moment. Serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins swirl into the peaks and valleys of our blood and bones. Hasya is of two kinds, Atmastha or self-based, Parastha or based in others. When we laugh because of the internal stimulus it is called Atmastha and when we make others laugh it is called Parastha.
Hasya Rasa is the science summing up the physiology of our lips curving up into a parabola and extending ear-to-ear. It is the physics of our dull eyes shimmering with joy. It paints itself with happy colors. The tints, hues, and shades that bring serenity to your eyes are happy colors. The rainbow, sunset, blue flowers to name a few. Happiness comes in many sizes but my favorites are the teensy-weensy cute stationery supplies. The tiny unicorn keychain with rainbow has my heart. When I’m happy I squeeze out these colors and splash them over the huge messy canvas of fear, anxiety, anger, stress, and guilt.
I feel the texture of happiness as I brush my fingers dipped in yellow color all around the white canvas. It feels like the unintentional dance I do to defend a tickle war against my useless sibling. The warmth of a blanket amidst breezy dawn. The caress of the wind in my hair.
Happiness tastes like the two-rupee candy mom rewarded with for completing five sums when I was seven. It tastes nothing less than a glass full of lemonade on the scorchy summer afternoons.
The chirping of birds returning home after a long busy day. The rustling of leaves under my white snickers during the September fall. Water flowing on its own beats over the hills & valleys. Tranquil music and mindful meditation sound exactly like happiness.
I can always smell happiness in the intoxicating earthy aroma after the drizzly advent of the monsoon. The pleasant fragrance of mangoes in summer. The delightful scent oozing out of the paints after completing a long-due painting. The gratifying rusty fragrance of the old books on the wooden shelf standing tall in the happy corner of my room.
Describing happiness with every possible dimension, yet the paradox remains unhampered. Even if I go round the world twice or thrice, I can never quantify or compare my happiness with the rest of the world.