We rarely look at the mechanics. Joy arrives when the senses touch something: a taste, music, the body, a notification on the phone. Śrī Prem Prayojan Prabhu says it plainly: the contact of the senses with objects is the birthplace of misery. Not "it sometimes ends badly" — it is born in the very place where the pleasure is born: the touch ends, and in its place is an emptiness that has to be filled again. The Upaniṣad suggests not arguing but examining: look over everything people have built by their work and ask what of it has stayed forever. Work produces nothing eternal, all of it will disappear. Not so that you give up — so that you stop looking for unfading joy where by its own design it never occurs.