The Bangladeshi happiness theory: Be self-dependent

"You want to talk about happiness? Come to my place."

Dr Nehal Karim's invitation is prompt when I phone him. It is a boon to me as I am not interested in just quoting him in this write-up. I want to discuss Bangladeshi happiness with him.    

17 June. The morning sky in Dhaka's Shahbagh area is partly cloudy. The temperature is bearable, thanks to the rain in the past few days. In May, brutal summer temperatures made life extremely uncomfortable. Some districts even saw people praying for rain amid the Covid-19 lockdown.  

I take a bus from Shahbagh. There is no traffic jam on the road. After getting off the bus at the Science Laboratory intersection, I walk to Dr Nehal's place on Dhanmondi road 1. Dhanmondi is one of Dhaka's upscale areas featuring modern multistorey housing units, shopping malls, and several private universities. If money equals happiness, those living in Dhanmondi should be among the happiest Bangladeshis.

I see a young couple riding a rickshaw. The girl has her head rested on the boy's shoulder. They are holding hands and laughing. Public displays of affection are a big no-no in Bangladesh, but I am not thinking about that. I am thinking whether they are happy.       

As I ring the bell, Dr Nehal's houseboy opens the door and lets me in. I find myself in a typical living room. I sit on a sofa. In front of me is a glass tea table, with some showpieces neatly arranged on it. There is a TV in one corner. Across it is the veranda door.   

In a few minutes, Dr Nehal appears. He is wearing a printed shirt and greyish pants. The man with glasses has black hair and a black moustache. He suggests I sit next to him under the ceiling fan to avoid sweating. I obey.  

"How would you define happiness irrespective of religion, race, and nationality?" I throw my first question at the retired sociology professor at the University of Dhaka.

He thinks for a few seconds and says this is not only a significant but also a very broad question that cannot be answered in brief.

"Everyone wants to achieve happiness, but you need to know how to get it. No one can give you happiness and you cannot buy it from anywhere. Besides, everyone cannot be happy," he says.       

He goes on to describe different types of happiness. When someone sees something beautiful, it gives them visual happiness. When they receive a gift from someone, it makes them happy. Similarly, when they give someone a gift, that also makes them happy. For example, they feel happy when they buy their parents or siblings presents during Eid or other festivals.   

No one can achieve complete happiness, he notes. "It is just impossible. If you think globally, even the British queen is not fully happy. There are unhappy chapters in her life that we do not know about."

He does not know for sure whether there has been any large-scale work on happiness in Bangladesh in the past. He says happiness means different things to different people. Giving the example of marginal communities, he says they laugh heartily, but their happiness does not stem from eating lunch at the Intercontinental Hotel or riding a Prado car or returning from an America tour.

"This is the happiness they get based on their moods and socioeconomic situations. This applies to people of other echelons of society as well."        

His houseboy serves me some papaya pieces. I feel a bit shy to eat and focus on the discussion instead. He now describes happiness as multidimensional, adding what someone will derive happiness from depends on their preference and perspective.

"Consider this. I want to get a particular feeling of happiness, but I may not get it eventually. What makes you happy may not make me happy. But then again, it can make me happier than you."   

Age is also a factor and achieving the right thing at the right time in life gives people a different kind of happiness, he says. He gives the example of Dr Md Mashiur Rahman, who was appointed the National University vice-chancellor recently. Mashiur is his direct student.

"On the other hand, if you get something at the old age that you were supposed to achieve in your younger years, your happiness level would be different. The more accomplishments you have in your life, the more successful you are."

I ask him whether happiness is directly proportional to accomplishments. Naturally, he says. "Think about State Minister for Foreign Affairs Shahriar Alam. What a great position he holds."     

He continues talking about politics, saying happiness is a highly complex subject both in Bangladesh and elsewhere in the world. He argues that America is not as happy as it was a decade ago because China has emerged as its competitor. Besides, Russia once had dominance in the political arena but not anymore.

What about Bangladesh, I ask. He says there are a handful of opportunists who are close to the government and are getting all the benefits. He gives a relationship tip, "You know what? There is absolutely no love or respect in a relationship built on ulterior motives."

I eat some of the papaya pieces as we talk. He now asks me to eat more. Putting another piece of the fruit in my mouth, I ask him how we can pursue happiness in Bangladesh considering our socioeconomic reality. He says he does not think anyone is happy as such.

He elaborates, saying those who misappropriated billions from banks have various problems in their lives, including family troubles. Many crooks wear several rings – one for having peaceful sleep at night, one for ensuring peace in the family, and one for preventing imprisonment. They believe in these because they have insecurities. Those having a clear conscience do not need such stuff.  

At this point, he proposes his own theory of happiness – the person who can stand on their own two feet and does not depend on others in any way is happy. Whether the person eats well or not is secondary.

"A bed-ridden person's life is riddled with troubles because he has to depend on others. If he frequently asks for help even from his wife when he needs to go to the toilet, for example, she will also become irritated at some point."  

"So, dependence on others is a big problem?"

"Definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely," he says the word four times. "It is a problem if you depend even on your family. Because you will not always get them when you need them."

His theory reminds me of the Nordic countries that regularly rank among the happiest nations in the world. Their policies are designed to eliminate all forms of dependency within the family and society, though those are not exactly what Dr Nehal has referred to. For Norwegians, Danes, Swedes, Finns, and Icelanders, the most crucial values are self-reliance and independence, especially economic independence, at every stage of life.

This creates romantic relationships where love and care are freely given, with no strings attached. The ultimate result is that such relationships remain much free from resentment and emotional baggage that may arise when expectations are not met, writes Finnish-American journalist Anu Partanen in her book "The Nordic Theory of Everything".

In the collectivist society of Bangladesh, relationships, especially marital partnerships, are just the opposite. They are characterised by dependence, especially financial dependence, often to a high degree. Because of the deep-rooted patriarchal structure of society, this dependence is not questioned but it can create grounds for possible abuse and resentment.              

I tell Dr Nehal to compare the present happiness level of Bangladeshis with that of 30-40 years ago. He says "oh," as if to mean those were the good old days.

Indeed so, as he takes a trip down memory lane. Dhaka was not this crowded before independence. Those who lived here would accommodate their relatives when the latter would come to Dhaka. There were not even a lot of housing units.

After independence, school enrolment increased. Young children in villages studied, grew up, and came to Dhaka to work. They started their own families, and the Dhaka population began to grow.

"Think about my parents. They would go to the cinema and then to hospital, if a relative was admitted there, before returning home. Sometimes, they would go to a relative's place from the cinema or hospital to socialise. Now people visit their near and dear ones only during festivals and when someone dies," he says.

I tell him it sounds like Finland where I lived for three years. Social interaction is markedly low there, people do not even know their neighbours, and do not visit families that often once their professional life is all set. He nods, saying Bangladeshis these days do not know who lives next door either, but there was a time when everyone knew everyone well in the same neighbourhood.   

He also witnessed how social interaction had diminished on the Dhaka University campus, where he had spent many years of his life. Before independence, everyone knew everyone there. There were 450 teachers at the time. Everyone knew who lived in which house. But that is out of the question now because there are 2,200 teachers. There are a lot more teachers' quarters now than before, and no one knows anyone.    

I tell him that I think community involvement is important for happiness and well-being. He agrees. What about close family connections then? This is said to be the key to happiness. He agrees again but with a caveat.

"Having a family may not always guarantee happiness. Think about a girl whose husband does not behave well with her. Or a man marries and brings a bride home, but she does not behave courteously with him or his parents. There can be many other problems in a family that you do not see from outside."

Before I tell him that I could not agree more, he raises another warning – extramarital affairs. He says this has become pervasive across the world. He cites an Indian study, which found that seven out of 10 Indian women cheated on their husbands, mostly because the marriage became monotonous and having an extramarital affair helped them add spice to their lives.

"I guess it would be six out of 10 [both men and women] here, but no one will admit this," he observes.

Like sex, there is indeed a big taboo around extramarital affairs in Bangladesh. Bangladeshis do not discuss it openly with their family members. Nor is it broadly studied in social science. There have been a few studies on extramarital affairs and family discord and the related problems. But there is no vibrant data on factors responsible for such affairs in Bangladesh.

Dr Nehal insists that I finish all the papaya pieces before continuing the discussion. I comply. He asks the houseboy to serve black tea. I look around the room. On one side of the wall, there are two large portraits of two men. I later learn that one is his father Dr Ahmed Sharif, a renowned scholar who retired as the chairman of the Bangla department at the University of Dhaka in 1983, and the other is his grandfather. Across those are several medium-sized framed photos, possibly of family members and relatives.

I tell Dr Nehal about Bhutan. The landlocked South Asian country measures citizens' happiness through its unique Gross National Happiness Index. The nine main indicators of the index are psychological well-being, health, time use, education, cultural diversity and resilience, good governance, community vitality, ecological diversity and resilience, and living standards.

Bhutan was not ranked in the United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network's 2021 and 2020 world happiness reports. In the 2019 report, it ranked 95th among 156 nations and also came out as the second happiest nation in South Asia. Bangladesh was placed in the 125th position.    

Bhutanese believe Gross National Happiness is more important and holistic than Gross National Product. The government's explicit purpose is to create happiness among citizens. Even the constitution stipulates that "the state shall strive to promote those conditions that will enable the pursuit of Gross National Happiness." I ask Dr Nehal why we cannot have something like this in Bangladesh.

He expresses annoyance and answers in a different way. He says Scandinavian policies cannot be compared with those of other European countries even though the former are in Europe as well. I tell him I know what he means as I lived in Finland, which was named the world's happiest nation for four years in a row in 2021.          

Finland has top-notch education, he says and asks me why I came back. I tell him I was supposed to return last year but my life took a different turn because of the Covid-19 pandemic restrictions and some other issues. I ask him again why there is no specific Bangladeshi policy geared towards ensuring people's psychological well-being like Bhutan.

"Because they [the authorities] do not know," he replies emphatically. "They do not have the idea."

"Do you think there will ever be such policies here?"

It will take a long time, he says. How long, I ask. 100 years?

"You need to understand. Since independence, the first generation Bangladeshis are not yet highly educated or in formal employment. When at least three successive generations will be educated and do jobs, this nation will have perfection."

His emphasis on education reminds me of Finland. I briefly tell him about Finnish history. Finland was a poor country after it emerged from years of war against Russia in the late 1940s. It highly prioritised education to build human capital, thinking this could be the key to building better lives for the next generation.

Finland initiated education reforms in the 1970s, with the aim of building high-quality, publicly-financed schools for all children across the country. Ensuring equity instead of excellence was the main objective of the reform programme. Today, Finland is among the most highly-educated, developed countries.    

Dr Nehal suddenly mentions public toilets in Bangladesh, describing what a sorry state they are in, including those in government offices. "You were in Finland. Need I say more?" I smile and cast my mind back to my time in one of the world's cleanest countries. They keep public toilets as clean as those in Finnish homes.

So far, he has openly expressed his irritation about the current state of politics in Bangladesh and slammed the government. He has been unsmiling all along, but I have not felt uncomfortable talking to him at all. "What makes me sad is that youngsters like you will suffer if they live here," he says. This is a no-brainer, I tell myself. I am here to talk to him about how to be happy in Bangladesh, but he mostly tells me what will make me unhappy here.   

This prompts me to ask him about his happiness. This is a subject that is not part of the everyday Bangladeshi social discourse. We do not specifically ask our fellow Bangladeshis whether they are happy. We ask them whether they are fine (bhalo achhen?). This is a key reason why I am highly interested in writing about happiness. I believe Bangladeshis should start talking about this emotional state to be more aware of it.     

"I am happy at this very moment. But if you ask me about my overall happiness…my wife passed away nine and a half years ago due to cancer. Her demise has created an emptiness in me," he says.

He has two sons, both living in America. The younger one is now with him for the time being. The absence of his sons affects his happiness. But what irks him a lot more is the maid. Even though she has been working for seven to eight years, she still asks him every day what she should cook.        

"I can have a meal with mashed potatoes, but my younger son is very sensitive. He wants different food for lunch and dinner. If the menu is the same for the two meals, he orders food from outside. That is very expensive, but he is unconcerned about it."

I ask him whether he is happy in terms of his professional accomplishments. He enthusiastically replies in the affirmative. He has written more books than all teachers in his department have in total.

"Go to the sociology department and ask Subrata, the computer operator. He typed my CV, and that of other teachers. He also knows it. Excluding texts, I have written 34-35 books, but not all of them are original. Some are compilations."

Among his books are The Emergence of Nationalism in Bangladesh and Sociological Perspectives on Bangladesh. He unhesitatingly says he is not a brilliant scholar, but he has worked his tail off. He takes pride in the fact that he may not have produced many quality works but is ahead of others in terms of quantity.    

He was very well-known in his student life among juniors and seniors alike. He studied at St Gregory's High School, Government Laboratory High School, and Dhaka College. He did his bachelor's and master's in sociology at the University of Dhaka.

I could have been talking to a barrister today as that is what he wanted to be, but his father could not afford Bar education. He finally did his PhD from the University of Pune with an Indian government scholarship in 1985. 

Now I am curious to know whether this is what he wanted to do in life when he was young – writing books and teaching. He says before wishing to become a barrister, he wanted to sit the Bangladesh Civil Service (BCS) test as being a cadre was a status symbol.

But things took a different turn. His test was on 15 October, and he got married on 5 October. It was a love marriage. He first saw her at a programme somewhere.  

"The BCS plan fell through. I do not know if I would have been selected, but I did not take the test," he says.  

His unrealised BCS dream reminds me of the mania for public sector jobs that has pervaded Bangladesh in recent years. Such jobs have become coveted, with youngsters considering them as the key to prestige and prosperity. I ask him if there is any relation between being a civil servant and achieving happiness.

"Government jobs come with unsaid perquisites. Parents want to marry their daughter off to a man who works in the public sector. Why? So that their daughter can live in affluence."

He mentions the meteoric rise of low-paid government workers often reported in the media, saying these people accumulate riches through corruption. I remember Directorate General of Health Services driver Abdul Malek, who was arrested last year amid the pandemic. He was found to be the owner of three multi-storey buildings in Dhaka, 24 flats, a dairy farm, and some other property worth over Tk100 crore.  

But does having a lot of money make people happy? Dr Nehal denounces wealth accumulation through graft but says money gives people a sense of security. This remains the case even if they do not spend the money they have, he adds.  

I ask him if he wants to give Bangladeshis any tips for achieving happiness. He repeats what he said earlier, reiterating that everyone needs to be happy in their own way. There is no state system that can supply happiness to citizens.

Does that mean it is difficult to be happy in Bangladesh compared to nations that are happier than us? He says even if that is the case, no one will admit it. He further says not everyone understands everything and people are so busy with so many things in their everyday lives that it is difficult for them to comprehend subjects like happiness.  

This strikes my mind with the question whether an unhappy Bangladeshi should move abroad in pursuit of a happy life. Ask Bangladeshis living abroad and most of them will say they left their motherland to build a "better" life. This "better" is mostly associated with socioeconomic conditions and has little to do with happiness.

Perhaps no Bangladeshi expat will say they moved to the US or Europe or Canada to be "happy." Various problems beset this country. Yet, its people know how to be happy – and that in their own way, as Dr Nehal said earlier, mentioning marginal communities as an example.   

I remind him of a previous interview where he said Bangladeshis mostly do odd jobs after moving to developed countries but still decide to stay there because of the social safety net. He now explains it further, saying it is not like foreign companies are eagerly waiting to employ Bangladeshis. People need to make a living somehow to lead their lives no matter where they live. But after returning home, they will feel lonely if they do not have their families and cannot speak their mother tongue.

Besides, he says, it is easy to own a car and a house abroad because of easy credit facilities, but life in later years is very difficult there because there is no one to take care of elderly people. By contrast, relatives in Bangladesh at least call or visit occasionally.

"You cannot get everything everywhere. Foreign life has comfort in certain areas, but there are challenges as well. It is not as easy as it sounds."

Many expats want to return but do not do so eventually as their children have grown up there, he says. "Moreover, many think they will have to accept junior positions at work upon return. Last but not the least, in terms of opportunities, what will they do after coming back?"  

He nowadays spends most of his time reading books and newspapers. He enjoys reading newspapers. He hangs out with a group in the morning and one of the group members is noted journalist Saleem Samad. He had some travel plans but had to cancel those because of the coronavirus pandemic.

"I will reschedule. I could not afford such travels in my younger years although I had the wish. Now I have money, but I know I will not enjoy as much as I would have if I were younger and could take my wife with me," he sighs. As I glance at his face, I assume he misses his wife a lot.      

It has been almost an hour. I wrap up the meeting. As I am leaving, he says, "Stay fine (bhalo theko)."

For a moment, I feel like he wanted to say, "Be happy." Then I remember what he said at the very beginning of the interview – everyone cannot be happy.

Mahmudul Islam, a journalist at The Business Standard, is deeply passionate about happiness.