May All People Be Happy—But How?

ಸರ್ವೇಜನೋ ಸುಖಿನೋಭವಂತು: May All People Be Happy But How?

I grew up hearing it in my small town ಸರ್ವೇಜನೋ ಸುಖಿನೋಭವಂತು, "May all people be happy," rolling off my grandmother’s tongue like a prayer over a plate of steaming ragi mudde. It’s Kannada’s heart, borrowed from Sanskrit, but lived in our red soil and monsoon winds. I’m no monk chanting it from a hilltop, no saint handing out halos I’m just a guy who’s seen cobras in my yard and code in my cubicle, wishing the world could catch a break. Happiness for all, everywhere, in every way sounds dreamy, right? But how do we make it real, not just a pretty line? Let’s dig in, because I want you yes, you reading this to feel it too.

Happiness Isn’t a Postcode

Well, my small town back then mud huts, bullock carts, motors, bicycles, kids chasing each other under a banyan tree. Happiness wasn’t a fat wallet or a shiny car; it was the smell of rain on paddy fields, my mother’s laughter, a neighbour sharing mangoes when the season hit. Now I’m in Bengaluru’s concrete jungle towers, traffic, IT deadlines and happiness looks different: a stable Wi-Fi signal, a quiet coffee, my kids giggling over a dosa fight. Point is, it’s not where you are it’s what you carry. A farmer in Karnataka, a coder in Mumbai, a shepherd in Ladakh happiness doesn’t care about your pincode or paycheque. It’s portable, if we let it be.

But here’s the catch, not everyone’s got the same shot. Census 2021 says 21% of India’s still below the poverty line 150 million souls scraping by. Happiness for them isn’t a luxury; it’s survival with a side of hope. Sarve jano means all no exceptions. So how do we bridge that? Maybe it’s less preaching and more doing clean water, a fair wage, a school that doesn’t leak. Small steps, not slogans.

The Cobra and the Chaos

Remember that cobra in my yard? My wife called it “good luck,” everyone nodded, and I stood there thinking, Are we nuts? Happiness isn’t blind belief it’s seeing clear. We’re happiest when we ditch the myths and face the mess. That snake wasn’t a blessing; it was a nudge to act call the guy with the stick, not pray for a lottery win. Life’s like that urban or rural, rich or poor. You don’t wait for joy to slither in; you make it, even when the world’s hissing.

Take my lost love she was urban polish with a rural soul, brilliant and blunt. She’d say happiness is in the fight questioning, laughing, cutting through the noise. I lost her, but she left me that: joy isn’t handed over; it’s forged. Whether you’re wrestling code in Bengaluru or hate in your heart (thanks, RSS guy who tried twisting my kids), it’s the same. Happiness blooms when we stop swallowing nonsense and start living real.

All States, All Minds

Sarve jano isn’t picky it’s every state of being. The tired mom in a slum, the CEO in a suit, the kid dreaming under a torn roof they all count. I’ve been the barefoot village boy, the IT grunt, the dad ranting at Kangana’s drivel happiness shifts with you. Awake, asleep, angry, calm it’s not one flavor. For my village, it was community; for my city self, it’s carving peace in the chaos. For you, it might be a song, a fight won, a quiet night. The trick? Let it fit no forcing everyone into the same mold.

But society’s a buzzkill. Politics splits us Ayodhya’s temple, Savarkar’s myth pushing “us” versus “them.” My Kannada’s 2,000 years old, a thread of joy I won’t trade, yet I don’t need to hate Hindi to love it. Happiness for all means dropping the tribal crap Hindu, Muslim, rich, poor. X’s a circus of it scroll and see the venom. Imagine if we swapped that for sukhino bhavantu not as a hashtag, but a hand up. Wild, right?

Making It Stick

So how do we pull this off? Start small smile at the stranger, share the load, question the loudmouths (looking at you, Kangana). Big picture? Fight for schools, not statues India’s literacy’s at 77% (2021), but 23% still can’t read this blog. Happiness needs roots food, health, a shot at dreaming. I’m no guru, just a Kannadiga who believes ruralism’s grit and city’s hustle can meet here: wanting everyone to thrive.

Picture this: a world where my village’s mangoes and Bengaluru’s buzz both breathe easy where you, wherever you are, feel the sun hit just right. ಸರ್ವೇಜನೋ ಸುಖಿನೋಭವಂತು isn’t a wish; it’s a dare. I’ve lost villages, loves, patience but not this. Happiness for all’s a messy, glorious chase. Join me. Let’s make it loud, real, and ours.