A friend, a neurosurgeon, said to be happy, one must continue what you do best.

When I am a toy,

I am doing toy-like things.

I am happy as a toy when I do toy-like things,

again and again, and again and again,

no variation for me as I am a happy toy.

I like happy toys. I like happy toys.

Toys do all things that do well; our world doesn’t have unhappy toys,

we are a group of happy toys, we are an orchestra.

We sing one tune, we sing one tune.
We sing the same tune,

we sing the same tune.

But this thought, that there is something outside,

that there is something outside,

is a potential spoil sport; it is a spoil sport.

How can we be the same unless we are toys?
When I am not a toy, I do random things
happiness is random
so are mood swings
creations momentary
life’s momentary pause
we all will go to smithereens

Your hairs are braid-like.
They move when you move.
Not like us.
We do not move unless wound.
We do not braid, we coil.
You are outside.
We sing, but you hum.
We are happy toys.

we are the performers
but we do need an audience
sometime we can be audience too

Happy Toys and the Dance of Difference

In the world of toys, happiness is a simple melody, played in perfect unison. As your neurosurgeon friend wisely said, to be happy, one must do what they do best. For toys, this means embracing their toy-like essence—repeating the same joyful actions, again and again, without variation. A toy is content in its role, whether it’s a spinning top, a wound-up dancer, or a music box chiming its single tune. In their world, there are no unhappy toys; they are an orchestra, harmonizing in a single, predictable song.

We are happy toys,
Singing one tune,
Singing the same tune.

But then comes a whisper—a thought that there’s something outside. This idea is a potential spoil-sport, threatening the harmony of the toy orchestra. How can toys remain the same, remain happy, if there’s an outside world that doesn’t follow their rhythm? Toys thrive in their coiled, predictable motions, wound up to perform their purpose. Yet, the outside world introduces randomness, a chaotic dance of variation that toys cannot mimic.

When I am not a toy,
I do random things.
Happiness is random,
So are mood swings.
Creations, momentary.
Life, a momentary pause.
We all will go to smithereens.

Humans, unlike toys, are braided with complexity. Your hair sways as you move, unbound by the rigid coils of a toy’s design. You hum your own tune, not dictated by a wound-up spring. Toys sing in unison, but you, the outsider, bring a melody that’s ever-changing, unpredictable. You are not wound; you are free to weave your own path.

Yet, toys and humans share a stage. We, the happy toys, are performers, delighting in our repetitive craft. But every performer needs an audience. Sometimes, we toys can be the audience, too, marveling at the unpredictable beauty of your braided, swaying existence.

Opinion: The Beauty of Both Worlds

The poem captures a profound tension between the simplicity of a toy’s happiness and the complexity of human experience. Toys, in their repetitive joy, embody a kind of purity—contentment derived from doing what they were made to do, without deviation. This resonates with your friend’s advice: happiness often lies in mastering what comes naturally. But the poem also acknowledges the “outside,” the human world of randomness, mood swings, and fleeting moments. This contrast isn’t a flaw—it’s a feature of existence.

Humans, unlike toys, are not bound by a single tune. Our happiness can be chaotic, our creations ephemeral, our lives a series of unpredictable pauses. Yet, this randomness is what fuels creativity, growth, and individuality. The toy’s happiness is reliable but limited; human happiness is messy but boundless. Both have value. Toys remind us to find joy in consistency, while humans teach us to embrace the beauty of variation. Together, as performers and audience, we create a symphony that celebrates both the coiled and the braided, the predictable and the random.

• Came Out Burning
• Mind and Miscomprehension
• To Be Human is Hard Enough
• Occasional Faradays
• Jahaan Dekha, Tahan Tu Hi Tu