Let’s face it—our default setting as humans is “No.”
We’re born with it. We live with it. We upgrade it to high-definition as we grow older.
Newton even tried to sound fancy about it with his First Law of Motion: An object in a state of rest or motion will continue in that state unless acted upon by an external force.
Translation?
If I’m in bed, I will continue being in bed unless something very dramatic (like fire, earthquake, or a cricket match) happens to move me.
The alarm clock blares at 6 AM. What’s the first thought? Not, “Yay, Monday!” It’s a deep, soulful, “No.” Your body, a magnificent object at rest, wants to remain at rest. It takes an external force—the urgent need for chai or a job—to get you moving.
Your phone buzzes with a work email on a Sunday. The universe inside you whispers, “No, not today.” But the external force—the fear of a boss’s evil eye—makes you tap open the email.
Someone asks you to attend a wedding of a fourth cousin you don’t even remember. Your heart says, “No, I’d rather watch cricket.” But the external force—family expectations and the possibility of free biryani—gets you to say “yes.”
Our natural state is ‘no.’ It’s our comfort zone, our default setting. A lazy, peaceful, pajama-wearing ‘no.’ And all the discomfort in our lives, all the unhappiness and the internal shouting matches, happen when we’re forced to say ‘yes’ when we really, truly, want to say ‘no.’
Society, of course, has conditioned us otherwise. We’re taught that ‘yes’ is good. ‘Yes’ is being a team player. ‘Yes’ is being a good son or daughter. ‘Yes’ is getting ahead. It’s an entire circus of saying ‘yes’ to things we don’t want to do, wearing clothes we don’t like, and showing up to places we’d rather not be. We become masters of the fake smile, the polite nod, and the heavy sigh once no one is looking.
Freedom, I’ve realized, isn’t about being able to do whatever you want. It’s simpler. It’s about being able to say ‘no.’
Being able to say ‘no’ to a third helping of gulab jamun when your stomach is already screaming. Being able to say ‘no’ to worrying about things you can’t control. Being able to say ‘no’ to wearing a suit on a scorching day just to please someone else’s idea of professional. Being able to say ‘no’ to the constant hum of comparison that tells you your life isn’t as good as your neighbor’s.
It’s our own personal Non-Cooperation Movement.
The world would probably grind to a halt if we all followed our natural, ‘no’-saying selves. There would be no Monday meetings, no forced networking events, and very few uncomfortable conversations. The external forces—the relentless pressure, the collective noise, the need for things to happen—are what keep the world spinning.
Maybe that’s the whole point. We’re all just constantly pushing against each other, a million little objects in a chaotic, beautiful dance. But the trick, the real key to a bit of happiness, is to remember your own internal ‘no.’ To listen to it. To honor it. Because sometimes, the most revolutionary act you can perform is simply to say, “No, thank you.” And then go take a nap.
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