Happiness

There lived a rich man in Varanasi with a heart of gold. He had a ten-year-old son with a heart of sapphire. Equally precious, to each other and everyone around. He would give everything to everyone, for his happiness. So would his son. The money never made them imperious. They never asked for respect, but when they walk into a room full of people, people admire them. The deep admiration for them didn't come from their wealth, but their hearts.

The father would pull his son closer to him and point at the sky, and say “If the sky falls, you should catch it and steal a star if it makes somebody happy,”

Making everyone else and themselves happy, their life goals, the son would reply. It is something they agreed on, even at that young age of ten, he understood how vital happiness is. For him, his father was everything. He didn’t have anyone else. His happiness, his world was all him. 

His father didn’t care if the explosion ruined him. He knew they would crash at the speed we were going. For the sake of his son’s happiness, he had to save him. 

Little did he know, his father was his son’s happiness.