For most of my life, I have prayed for the happiness of my family and the people I love. Like any husband, father, or family member, I have wanted to see my loved ones safe, healthy, and free from suffering.
But as I grow older, I sometimes ask myself a question that is not so easy to answer.
Can I sincerely wish happiness for someone who has hurt me? Can I pray for the well-being of people I have never met, whose names I do not know and whose lives may never touch mine?
I don't always have a ready answer.
At 70, I have lived long enough to understand that life is not made up only of affection, happy memories, and relationships that work out as we hope. There are disappointments, misunderstandings, differences of opinion, and moments when people let us down. Some experiences leave us wondering why others behaved the way they did.
I, too, have had my share of life's lessons. And I have realised that growing older does not necessarily mean we have found answers to all our questions. Sometimes, age simply teaches us to ask better ones.
One question keeps bringing me back to an ancient Sanskrit prayer: Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah.
It means, “May all be happy.”
I have known these words for years, but I find myself thinking about their meaning differently now. Perhaps understanding a prayer is not the same as learning to live by it.
The Meaning of One Small Word: Everyone
The prayer is simple. Sarve means everyone, Bhavantu means may they be, and Sukhinah means happy or well.
Yet I find myself pausing at that first word.
Everyone.
It is easy to include our children, our family, and our friends in our prayers. We want good things to happen to them. We worry when they are unwell and feel happy when life treats them kindly.
But does our concern extend beyond the people we know and love?
What about the stranger struggling with a problem we know nothing about? What about the neighbour with whom we have never developed a friendship? And what about the person whose words or actions have caused us pain?
I cannot pretend that wishing happiness for everyone comes naturally to me every time. I am human, with my own feelings and weaknesses.
But I am beginning to understand something important: wishing someone well does not mean approving of everything they do. It does not mean allowing someone to hurt us repeatedly. We can maintain our dignity, protect our peace, and still hope that another person finds a better way to live.
Perhaps compassion begins when we stop allowing our disagreements to erase another person's humanity.
When I Look at the World, I Feel Sad
The news often leaves me wondering what has happened to our ability to live peacefully with one another.
Wars continue. Communities fight. Hatred divides people. Families lose loved ones, and children grow up in circumstances no child should have to endure.
We speak proudly of scientific progress, modern technology, and economic development. Yet people still struggle with the most basic human need: to live without fear and hatred.
I sometimes wonder whether we have become so concerned with proving ourselves right that we have forgotten how to listen.
At this stage of my life, I have come to believe that peace is not merely the absence of war. Peace also means being able to disagree without treating another person as an enemy. It means remembering that behind every headline are real people, with families, hopes, fears, and dreams of their own.
I know that repeating a Sanskrit prayer will not stop a war. I cannot resolve conflicts between nations, nor can I remove every injustice from society.
But I can ask myself a more practical question: Am I contributing to peace in the little world around me, or am I adding to the bitterness that already exists?
That question brings the prayer closer to home.
A Prayer Must Become a Way of Living
Over the years, I have learnt that good intentions mean little if they never influence our behaviour.
What is the value of praying for everyone's happiness if I cannot be patient with someone at home? What does compassion mean if I speak harshly to a person simply because I am irritated? Can I ask for peace in the world while carrying unnecessary resentment in my own heart?
I don't ask these questions because I have mastered the answers. I ask them because I know I still have room to improve.
Sometimes, practising this prayer may mean listening instead of interrupting. It may mean checking on someone who lives alone, offering help when we can, or choosing not to say something hurtful in a moment of anger.
These are small things. They may never appear in a newspaper or attract anyone's attention. But they can make another person's day a little easier.
And perhaps that is where a meaningful change begins.
We often wish that the world would become a better place. I wonder whether we sometimes expect that change to begin with governments, leaders, or other people, while forgetting the influence of our own everyday behaviour.
I cannot change everyone. But I can pay attention to the way I treat the people around me.
What I Want to Remember at 70
As I grow older, I find that I am less interested in having an answer to everything and more interested in understanding what truly matters.
I want happiness for my family, but I also want to remember those who have nobody to pray for them. I want peace in my own life, but I know that peace becomes difficult to sustain when I deliberately nurture bitterness towards others.
This does not mean I will never feel hurt, angry, or disappointed again. I am not claiming to have reached that stage of wisdom.
It simply means that I want to keep learning.
When I say Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah, I want to remember that the word everyone includes people beyond my immediate circle. It includes those I know, those I may never meet, and even those with whom I disagree.
I cannot make everyone happy. I cannot take away every person's suffering. But I can try to be more patient, more understanding, and less careless with the feelings of others.
Perhaps, after 70 years of living, one of the lessons I am still learning is this: we may not have the power to remove all the unhappiness in the world, but we can make a conscious effort not to add to it.
I will continue to pray for my family and loved ones. But I also want my prayer to reach beyond them.
May all be happy. May all be free from suffering. May we learn to live with a little more kindness, even when we disagree.
For me, that is no longer just a Sanskrit prayer to be recited. It is a lesson I want to keep practising for the rest of my life.
My take
At 70, I am still learning that wishing happiness for everyone is easier said than done. I may not be able to remove the world's suffering, but I can try not to add to it.
For me, Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah is more than a prayer. It is a reminder to live with greater kindness, patience, and compassion.
Come, Let’s Share This Journey Together
Dear reader, I’m Naresh, and at 70, I still find joy in writing about life, spirituality, relationships, and the lessons our experiences teach us. Every story I share comes from something I have felt, observed, experienced, or come to understand along the way.
I would be truly happy to have you as part of my blogging journey. Follow Envigblogs and let us share our thoughts, learn from one another, and discover the wisdom hidden in our everyday experiences. Your time, your readership, and your thoughts mean more to me than you may realise.
Thank you for being here. I hope you will stay and walk a little further with me. ❤️
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