In plain words
Someone is weeping by the roadside. Everyone who passes that way sees him weeping and asks the reason. What is the reason? Weeping is not natural to man. While he grieves in this, which is not natural, the natural man asks, 'What is the reason for this sorrow?' For what is natural there are no questions at all. Questions are only for the unnatural. Worries are only for the unnatural. On that same road someone is beaming with smiles, full of Ānanda. Nobody goes up to him and asks, 'Why, sir, aren't you weeping?' For Ānanda is natural to him. Only when we forget the Ānanda that is natural does the unnatural sorrow come upon us. Only when the unnatural sorrow comes do the questions pour down like rain.
Then what makes us forget what is natural? The impurity of body, senses, Manas and Buddhi: that itself keeps setting obstacles in the way. And why does such impurity of Manas and Buddhi stand in the way? Pleasures and indulgences bound up with attachment and aversion. Man today, deluding himself with nothing but 'Ānanda, Ānanda', is travelling on the road that brings sorrow. Many of the wealthy, the educated and those in authority, caught in these very delusions, cannot recognise their duty and live in folly. A small example. For the sake of Ānanda, in search of pleasure, many people take intoxicants, drink, gamble, and indulge in many other kinds of vice. They think drinking is Ānanda. They think gambling is happiness. He believes, 'All those crooked ways are deeds I do for happiness and Ānanda.' But longing for it is happiness; doing it is sorrow. He cannot see the truth that all these are the cause of sorrow. Through bad habits, bad company and bad thinking, man is sinking into degradation. In society he is earning a bad name that cannot be wiped away. He cannot come to know the truth that the Ānanda he imagined is not in these actions. He cannot even inquire into what the cause of happiness is. He deludes himself that this worldly, material, fleeting, futile road itself will give him the Ānanda that is eternal and true.
He cannot recognise who he is: his own Satya, his own nature. When man recognises his own nature, his own Satya, there is no room for any sorrow at all. The root cause of all this is attachment and aversion alone. What makes attachment arise? But he cannot reflect on the truth that attachment too is a disease.