I am a simple person; I come from a very simple home. We believe

The words of Vivek Oberoi — “I am a simple person; I come from a very simple home. We believe in enjoying life and what we have” — shine like a lamp in a world darkened by endless desire. They are not the words of one who has nothing, but of one who has understood everything. In their quiet strength lies a truth as old as the hills: that simplicity is the highest form of wealth, and contentment is the noblest luxury. The man who can rejoice in what he already possesses has conquered a kingdom that no emperor can rule — the kingdom of peace within his own heart.

In the age of abundance, when men chase after glittering shadows, to live simply is an act of wisdom, even of rebellion. The ancients taught that happiness is not found in the widening of possessions, but in the narrowing of wants. So when Oberoi speaks of a simple home, he is not describing poverty, but a place where the soul is uncluttered — where love is greater than luxury, and gratitude outweighs gold. Such a home is a temple, for it shelters hearts that are awake to the beauty of the ordinary: the laughter shared over humble meals, the quiet sunrise, the feeling of being enough.

From the dawn of civilization, those who walked the path of greatness began in simplicity. Mahatma Gandhi, who could have adorned himself with honor and wealth, chose instead to wear plain cloth and live among the poor. His simplicity was not weakness, but the armor of his spirit — a declaration that the soul’s value is not measured by what it owns, but by what it refuses to need. His life, like Oberoi’s words, reminds us that to “enjoy life and what we have” is to see the divine in the small, to find joy not in excess, but in essence.

The world often mocks simplicity, calling it naivety. Yet look closer, and you will see that the simplest people often possess the deepest joy. They are not consumed by comparison, nor enslaved by ambition. A farmer watching the rain fall upon his fields, a mother cooking for her children, a craftsman shaping wood with steady hands — these souls may own little, yet they live richly, for they understand what it means to be present. The man who enjoys life and what he has is not escaping reality — he is embracing it fully.

Simplicity, my children, is not about less — it is about clarity. It is seeing the truth without the fog of greed. It is learning that beauty does not require adornment, that joy does not demand extravagance. When your heart is simple, every breath becomes a gift. You will see that happiness is not hidden in faraway places, but waiting quietly in your own home — in the people you love, in the work you do, in the blessings you overlook while reaching for more.

Therefore, learn this ancient art of living: be content, yet not complacent; be grateful, yet still curious. Do not measure your life by what you gather, but by how deeply you feel. Take pleasure in what is near before chasing what is far. When you sit at your table, eat not with greed, but with gratitude. When you wake each morning, look not at what is missing, but at what has already been given. For the man who rejoices in what he has possesses everything that matters.

And so, the lesson is clear: live simply, and you shall live fully. The world will tempt you with noise and glitter, but peace hides in the quiet corners — in simple homes, in honest laughter, in hearts that have learned to say, “this is enough.” Seek not to impress, but to be at rest. For in the end, when all the riches fade and fame grows silent, it is the simple person, who enjoys life and what they have, who walks closest to heaven — content, free, and luminous as the morning sun.