I had a very bad day at work. I was gloomy about my failure to provide a bug free solution which is field failure and had my share of blessings from manager. Not that am gloomy cause, he went on a ride on me but why am I failing so often these days. Like a fly running around your nose, thoughts too were buzzing within my mind. It was around 6 30 PM in the evening, i was walking back home after getting down from the bus. My right eye caught something that made me silent and immerse into myself for the rest of the day. A boy of aged about 6 years old just fell running. He was playing touch me/ some such street game with his friends. As soon as he has fallen, woke up, dusted off his shirt and pulled up his pants and forwarded in the direction where his friend was heading. After running for another five steps, he gravitated to the ground. I thought he is about to fall again, but this time he just managed to balance and proceed.
Hitherto, my mind which was buzzing around with thoughts about my bad day switched to my childhood. At the age of six, I was spirited, jubilant, cranky and crazy, a typical child of that age group. I used to get into street fights, got beatings from mom for the mischief with neighbours. etc etc.
Being sick with high temperature I couldn’t make it to the cricket game. By the time it was 4 PM( which was our play time) , I used to pretend to be okay and plead mom to let me go to the playground only to watch but not play. Mom gets persuaded only after a couple of promises from her little child. I, elated by her mom permission, used to flood her with kisses and cruised through the main door while she is all laughs for her spirited son. Being a chubby little kiddo, everyone used to adore me and my mom the most. In the scorching summer heat, either I used to play / watch the game, fall sick, play , fall sick.. but I never gave up playing/ turning up at the ground. Spirit was always there despite of results and side effects.
Now, having seen the world through various lenses for about twenty years, I feel ashamed about how easily I tend to give up on failures, comforting myself with lies with a soothing judgemental statistics. Probably most of us were taught in schooling, “Fall seven times, stand up eighth time”. Am afraid how often does that come to our mind when in dejection / failure.
Walking through the way to home, I have decided for myself that I won’t stop battling. I won’t be afraid of failures. In fact I shall endure it , prosper along with it. World didn’t change much, our inhibitions, whims, fears have increased beyond proportions which are ten times manifold and pulling us back. Which was not the case during childhood. Probably to stand up every time we fall too requires certain amount of effort. I wish to fall once again and no matter what I shall stand up. I promised to myself and heaved a sigh of relief. Went home, had good food and a good sleep, otherwise it would have been so unsettling.
So how often are you falling and how often are you standing up ?? How does this saying reflect your life ?