Hiren Deliwala
By Hiren Deliwala
A businessman meets a fisherman who has already finished working for the day because his catch is enough. The businessman is puzzled. Why not fish longer? Buy a bigger boat, build a business, create wealth? The fisherman listens and asks one question: “What would all that get me?” The businessman explains that after years of hard work he could retire and spend his days relaxing by the sea. The fisherman smiles. “But that’s what I’m doing now.”
Most people love this story. Every time I’ve heard it, the lesson seems obvious: why spend your life chasing success, money, and status when the goal is simply to be content? Why postpone happiness for some future date when you can enjoy life today? For years I agreed with that interpretation. Then I turned fifty, and the story started bothering me.
Not because I wanted more money. At this stage, I have enough. More money would be nice, but it isn’t what occupies my mind. What bothers me is a different question: am I becoming content, or am I becoming comfortable? Those two things can look identical from the outside.
After fifty, many of us stop taking risks. We stop pursuing difficult things. We stop putting ourselves in situations where we might fail, look foolish, or discover we are no longer as capable as we once imagined. We often justify it with the language of wisdom. “I don’t need that.” “I’ve already proven myself.” “I’m content.” Sometimes those statements are true. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes “I don’t need that” is really “I’m not sure I can still do that.” That’s a harder truth to face.
I’ve caught myself doing it. Not so much in my career; I’m actually less interested in climbing than I was ten years ago. But in other parts of life, I feel the pull constantly.
Part of me wants to slow down. Another part wants to learn guitar well enough to perform in front of people, write things that make people think, take on challenging hikes, keep discovering what I’m capable of.
The experiences I’m most proud of required exactly the opposite of comfort. Learning guitar is frustrating. Training for Machu Picchu wasn’t comfortable. But those things mattered not because of what they produced but because of who they helped me become.
That’s what I think the fisherman story misses. Going from one boat to a business would require courage, patience, resilience, and learning. The fisherman would have to become a different person. Maybe that journey has value, too, not because the destination is better, but because the transformation itself is worthwhile.
What worries me is a modern version of the fisherman. Not someone sitting peacefully by the ocean enjoying a simple life. A fisherman with a smartphone. A fisherman who spends hours scrolling social media, watching other people live their lives, comparing himself to influencers and strangers, and convincing himself that he is content because he no longer wants anything. From the outside it may look like rest. It may even look like wisdom. But scrolling is not peace. Quietly making yourself smaller isn’t the same as being satisfied.
The older I get, the less I care about accumulating things. But I find myself hungrier, not less — just hungry for different stuff. Not growth for status. Not growth for money. Learning something hard. Making something. Doing things that still scare me a little. At fifty-two, that’s what makes a week feel like it mattered.
So, when I hear the fisherman story now, I don’t walk away inspired. I walk away a little suspicious of him, and honestly, of myself. I wonder whether I’m sometimes using contentment as wisdom when it’s really an excuse to stop growing. I will close by this beautiful line from James Clear, “A lovely blend: Always reaching. Already enough.”
Hiren Deliwala is a Charlotte-based overthinker, closet philosopher, and avid board gamer. He writes about everyday life, Indian upbringing, and finding humor in the chaos. When not philosophizing over chai, he’s usually losing arguments to his wife and, shockingly, learning from them. Contact: hcdeliwala@gmail.com
