Ananta's Story: The Child Who Taught the Path of Happiness Even in Sorrow

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Ananta's Story: The Child Who Taught the Path of Happiness Even in Sorrow

✍️ Dr Prodyut Acharya  |  📅 25 September 2026  |  ⏱️ 7 min

Not the blow of misfortune, but rather the outlook itself forever determines a person's happiness or sorrow.

The little boy who works in the tea shop is named Ananta. He is twelve. Four years ago his father died. He has a little sister, aged eight. In the family there are three — mother, sister and Ananta. The mother works in people's homes; the sister studies in a government school, in Class Two.

Ananta's studies could not cross beyond Class Two. After his father's death his path with school came to a stop. The severe want in the family could no longer be managed by the lone mother. Yet Ananta's mother did not fail in effort — even in the whirlpool of sorrow and hardship, she fought hard to put food in the mouths of her two children.

Ananta's father was a mason. The income was not much, yet the family somehow ran along.

Cruel Fate, Intact Smile

How cruel fate can be — the heart is torn just by seeing the life of a child like Ananta. Yet the wonder is — there is no shadow of sorrow on Ananta's face, no weight of despair. It seems he ignores all of fate's harshness and goes on with laughter, play and humming songs in an indifferent manner. When he makes a mistake he gets scolded, that makes him sad, yet he recovers himself in a moment.

Because his skin is dark, some people tease him and call him 'Kalu'. But in Ananta's deep gaze and the gravity of his face, it seems an invisible utterance is heard — "However cruel fate may be, I will conquer it."

Often I go to that tea shop. To tell the truth, more than the taste of the tea, it is the acquaintance with Ananta that draws me more. In his words there is a strange depth. I wonder, is this his conscious realisation, or an unconscious utterance? Because how much understanding of life can a twelve-year-old child have! Yet in his unalloyed words I see again and again a glimpse of philosophy.

The Philosophy of Birds and Fish

One day, in jest, I asked —

"Hey Ananta, don't you feel bad when children of your age pass in front of the shop in school uniform, going to school?"

He said with an indifferent smile — "No, no."

Surprised, I said again — "Why?"

That day Ananta looked fixedly at the ashwattha tree standing in front of the tea shop. His eyes seemed to pierce through and see the birds sitting on the tree's branches. Then in a calm voice he said —

"Those birds there — if they looked at the fish and thought, 'If only we too could venture into the water' — then the birds too would feel sorrow."

Saying this he laughed.

That day I was annoyed. A little angry too. But even after returning home I could not forget his strange answer for a long time. It took me hours to understand its real meaning.

Flying in the sky like a bird is natural, swimming in water like a fish is its dharma. If the bird laments for water, if the fish is tormented by longing for the sky — then their lives will ultimately drown only in the pain of lack.

Twelve-year-old Ananta had brought that great truth — which Vedanta calls "Santosha", Buddhist philosophy calls "freedom from craving" — down to the very earth in the analogy of birds and fish. And he did not even know that this was philosophy.

The Emptiness of the Rowdies

One day I was sitting in the shop drinking tea. Then I saw some rowdies had come. While drinking tea they were piercing Ananta with filthy words, even hurling abuse about his mother.

Ananta looked quietly at them. Even if a momentary spark of protest lit up in his eyes, he could not say anything. Courage perhaps he has, but strength he does not.

When I protested, they threw a couple of abuses and left. Then I said — "Don't feel hurt, child, they are all rowdies."

Ananta slowly shook his head and said — "No, I did not feel hurt… only feel bad, for them."

"Meaning?"

He said in a calm voice —

"You saw, by speaking filthy words to me they want to get happiness. That means, there is really no happiness in their lives. If there were, they would not have to find joy by giving pain to others."

Then stopping the work of his hands, he looked at me with simple yet deep eyes —

"Why did they disturb me? Because it seems they feel good in it. Actually there is no real work in their lives that feels good. So they seek happiness only by hurting others. That is why I feel bad — not for myself, for their emptiness."

That day I could not say anything more. A twelve-year-old boy, whose life has nothing but sorrow — he transformed his own insult into another's weakness in the blink of an eye. Even many scholars do not have this power of seeing.

The Old Singer Eats at the Big Man's, the Old Physician Rides to the Second Floor

In this way Ananta's childhood was passing. Two more years went by. The sister is now in Class Four, next year she will go to high school. Ananta needs to earn more.

That evening I asked — "If you leave work here, where will you go next?"

"Wherever life takes me."

My head grew hot with anger. He never says anything straight. "Have you arranged any work somewhere?"

"No. Nothing is fixed yet. But something must be done so that the income increases a little."

"What will you do?"

Ananta said with a strange smile — "The old singer eats at the big man's, the old physician rides to the second floor."

"Can you not speak clearly?"

With calm patience he said —

"Those who practise music, they one day get name and fame. But that name remains only as long as the voice stays good. If the voice is ruined, one has to stretch out the hand before others. You remember that dada of our neighbourhood — I heard he was once a famous artist, what is his condition today. On the other hand, the physician dada of the next village — he cannot walk without a stick. Yet when a patient needed him, people carried him in a palanquin. His dignity remains intact even today. So I thought — I must learn something that will not let dignity decrease even in old age."

Hearing this in a child's voice, all the tiredness of the whole day disappeared in a moment.

What Remained After the Farewell

After that I did not see Ananta again. After leaving the work I went to that shop only two more days. But without Ananta my mind did not stay there.

In that relationship of two years I gave him many things — perhaps a few pieces of advice, some encouragement. But if I try to balance the accounts, I see the pan of receiving is heavier on my side.

Ananta taught me — misfortune cannot stop the flow of life. As if without any complaint he had accepted — life is like this, and it must go on.

In Greek mythology Sisyphus pushes a stone up the mountain every day. The stone rolls down. He lifts it again. No protest, no complaint. The philosopher Albert Camus wrote — "One must imagine Sisyphus happy." Because the struggle itself is the meaning of his existence.

Ananta too is like that. He did not know of Camus, did not know of Sisyphus. But every day he lifted that stone — without any introduction, without any label of philosophy.

The best lessons of life do not come from books. Sometimes they come from a tea shop — in the voice of a twelve-year-old boy, whose name is Ananta.

"Not the blow of misfortune, but rather the outlook itself forever determines a person's happiness or sorrow."