The boy walked into his room, placed his sports bag in its place, and then lunged towards his bed where he buried his face into the pillow.
Today had not been a good day at practice. Right from his coach, to the ball and the wind – everything seemed to be plotting against him. He had failed miserably on the field. Missed catches, wide balls, low scores, bad judgments – he seemed to be having a field day with his misery.
He hated being screamed at, and his coach had done just that. And why not?! The boy had been selected to play for his state and was expected to perform well. So, the coach had every right to turn the heat on him and send him off the field.
The boy, in his dejection and anger, had packed up his sports kit; gotten onto his bike and had come back home, unshed tears tearing his heart apart. He had left half-way through the practice session.
It was during days like these that the boy felt like dumping everything – his bat, his ball, his gloves – everything that he held so dear to him. He felt that it would be a wise choice to discard what was hurting him, and turn his attention to the things that could never unsettle him. Like his skill at martial arts, or the power of his speech, or his flawless writing skills – all of which, he never faltered at.
Many times, he had been urged to follow what he was good at. “God’s gifts,” advised his beloved grandmother. “Your father is convincing with his speech, and you have learnt by observing him. And your mother is a successful writer. You are blessed with her intelligence. Don’t ignore your blessings, darling,” she had often told him, especially during days like today. And, as he looked at the awards that he had won for his oratory, writing, and martial arts display, lined up along his shelves, he had often felt tempted to give in to her words. But…
…it was the call of the stadium that he wanted to listen to. The wind blowing through his hair, his bat raised and poised, ready to trash the ball that dared to project itself towards it. It was the call of the stadium, over-flowing with spectators singing his praise that the boy wanted to listen to.
But could that even happen? “There are thousands like you, with the same dream,” his mother often told him, in an effort to bring him down to earth. And the boy knew that was the truth. Yet, he wanted to fly.
The boy wanted to learn how to fly, so he could soar. He knew that there was a great connection between learning and succeeding, and that it was was filled with hard work. “And success only happens because, we overcome the fear of failure, and the temptation to do what is easy,” his father’s words echoed in his mind.
The boy turned in his bed to stare at a point above the door of his room. He lay staring at the point for a long time. After some time, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply before getting out of the bed in a heavy motion. He straightened his shoulders, picked up his sports bag, and made a move to walk out of his room. The boy glanced up, towards the door once again to read what he had been reading repeatedly for so long. For above the door, was a sign that his mother had stuck.
Real warriors are not born. They always build themselves to become Warriors. So, do the Difficult.
And what the boy wanted to become, was a warrior.
To become who you are, or to become who you want to be – that is the question.
Our birth predisposes us towards certain genetic traits, which leave an impact on the careers we choose for ourselves. Our family and friends influence our interests. So, the child of a scientist, might automatically, based on the communication with the parent, accumulate a lot of scientific information that could influence his own interest in the subject. When we do that, we grow up to become our parents, or what our parents want us to become.
Question is – who do you want to be? And what are you doing to achieve what you want? That is the challenge.
Here’s to figuring out the Real You!