There is an unspoken truth running like a deep current beneath the surface of Indian life: the belief that a life of struggle, sacrifice, and hardship is not only normal but virtuous. We are taught to admire the stoic sufferer, the self-sacrificing parent, the diligent student who burns the midnight oil. A life of ease, personal happiness, and unconventional success is viewed with suspicion, as if it’s unearned, frivolous, or a betrayal of one’s duty.

This is the Cult of Suffering.

It is the cultural software that makes the constant social judgment we face not just possible, but necessary. When the baseline expectation is a noble struggle, your genuine happiness becomes a deviation from the norm. And societies are built to correct deviations.

Your joy is a rebellion.

Think about the subtle reactions you encounter. You share good news about a promotion, and you receive a warning: “Don’t get too comfortable, the market is bad.” You express joy in a new relationship, and you are met with doubt: “He seems nice, but is his family good enough?” You celebrate a personal success, and someone will invoke the evil eye (nazar) to remind you that your joy is fragile and should not be flaunted.

These are not random acts of pessimism. They are social correction mechanisms. They are the tools the culture uses to pull you back down to the baseline of “normal” struggle. They are a way of saying, “Don’t be too happy. It’s not safe. It’s not right.”

The Nazar-Proof Performance: Intentionally appearing miserable to avoid social judgment

In this environment, “keeping” your joy, your successes, and your unconventional path private is not an act of paranoia. It is an essential act of self-preservation.

The Greenhouse of Well-being: Shielding your joy from the culturally mandated frost of suffering

You are not hiding your happiness from others; you are protecting it from a culture that is conditioned to be suspicious of it.

You are building a greenhouse for your well-being, shielding it from the culturally mandated frost of suffering. This is the first and most profound reason we must learn the art of keeping.