The other car in the parking lot

 

The Other Car in the Parking Lot

Sometimes gratitude loses its focus when comparison sneaks in.

Today, I want to talk about money—our ever-demanding companion. There was a time when I dreamt of owning a car. Just one. Back then, a car meant luxury. Years later, I found myself wanting a better one—because apparently, luxury also updates its model every year.

The other day, we finally bought a new car and went straight for a puja, feeling quite content—until, of course, the universe decided to teach a quick lesson in humility. Right next to us parked a far more luxurious car. Shiny, sleek, almost smug. As we stood there praying, our eyes somehow refused to close. We were looking at the other car—while offering gratitude for our own! In that moment, our car suddenly seemed small, and our satisfaction even smaller.

It made me realise how money often brings along a few uninvited guests—jealousy, comparison, and pride. As Oscar Wilde once quipped, “When I was young, I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I am old, I know that it is.” The irony still stands—because even when we laugh at it, we live it.

We often call our world materialistic, and not without reason. Friendships and affections frequently revolve around finances. People are drawn to those who are financially secure, and admiration comes more easily if that wealth is shared. Simply being rich isn’t enough—you have to use your money for others in order to be liked.

But here’s the irony: the ones who are gentle at heart, who serve selflessly, rarely get the same recognition. Their quiet kindness often goes unnoticed in a society where currency speaks louder than compassion.

Money, of course, is necessary. It’s how we transact, sustain, and survive. Wealth enables us to live with dignity and comfort—but it should never make us proud. The moment money begins to speak in louder voices than values, we start depending on things that were never truly needed. Luxuries and comforts are endless, and the desire to hold more—money, status, possessions—quietly consumes us.

After a point, when one has everything one ever desired, a strange emptiness follows. You may find yourself surrounded by every comfort imaginable, not thinking twice before buying anything, never glancing at a price tag—and yet, a quiet voice within asks, What now?

That question—about purpose—doesn’t leave easily. Because deep down, we all realise that wealth alone cannot fill the inner void. The purpose of life cannot be defined by possessions. Money is merely a medium, not the meaning. To live only for it leads nowhere.

Sharing wealth is noble, giving it is generous—but even generosity must be guided by wisdom. Money and comfort to a certain degree are healthy and necessary, but beyond that, they begin to hollow us from within.

Some people are wise and generous—they share when it truly matters. Others hoard wealth for luxuries or display. On the surface, they may seem caring, even sympathetic, but when it comes to real help, they step back.

And yet, even kindness has its balance. Helping without expecting anything in return is noble—but when people start mistaking generosity for entitlement, they turn it into dependency. That is when wisdom must step in—to see clearly who genuinely needs help and who is merely taking advantage.

In the end, money might rule the world, but kindness guided by wisdom rules the heart. And that kind of kindness—the one that gives without pride, spends without showing, and lives with purpose—is what truly transforms lives.

So yes, money matters—but peace of mind matters more. As the Dalai Lama wisely said, “Man sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.” Let’s not wait to buy wisdom after the sale season of our desires ends.