'Change - An illusion or a prospect?'

We are always told about change being the only constant. Change is initiated from the time of one's birth as it sends waves of positive emotions all the way. As one sets foot into the energetic teens of life, with all the adrenaline rush and idealistic approach running hot in the blood, repercussions and consequences are the least of one's concern. The zeal to achieve greatness clouds one's judgement. The race has already begun and the competition is such that it forces even a limping horse to make a dash at the winning line with all the strength it can muster.

It's said that sports is a great teacher, helps one deal with defeats better than the wins. Well, it's often noticed that nobody blinks an eye before adding a brick wound to the already bleeding cuts and bruises while the victor stands all gloating in the limelight. The winner, though rightfully enjoys the toast of the evening, the darkest corner of the party is always reserved for his counterpart.

Losing is like sipping Irish coffee. Though whiskey takes time to set in, to entice the taste buds with its characteristic taste from amid all the sweetness of sugar and flavour of coffee, it's the only flavour that dominates once the stage is set.

Appearances are hard to maintain when all there is to see is the loss staring at you right in the face, screaming at your conscience about the consequences. The stats, a multitude of voices and the vibrant over enthusiastic surroundings suddenly come alive with its uncanny behaviour tearing right through the wounds, cutting deep into the flesh, bleeding you throughout.

Every drop of blood begs for mercy, yells for help with extended arms. The mirror becomes the worst enemy one can ever have had a tiff with. The pain revolves around in the same circles over and over again, until the circle gets engraved in its own path. A circle resembling a vicious loop that plays it's part in reminding the failures throughout life.

The win seduces the efforts everytime before patronising the means to settle for someone else, just like the waves, threatening of a return everytime it decides to forgo of its occupied land. The particles of sand though having tasted defeat everytime, fight harder through the humiliation with a hope of retaining the water someday, to show the sea that they can win despite all odds, hold on the attacking water somehow, without realising that it's a lost cause.

The mind, though beaten up blue black with the recent efforts, still hatchs plans to combat and still fights in an already lost battle. It rewinds every move made sequentially to assess and analyse prospective errors and faults along with devising counter attacks for future references. While the move is worth the effort, the victory still remains elusive for the moment.

Wins are the highways one plans to reach after travelling through the marsh. The longer one wades and surges forward in the rough, the stronger his muscles get. The blood streams make their paths known on the selectively permeable skin, with the oxygen gushing through them to cater to the ever increasing demands of energy. The calf muscles bulge out due to the extensive pressure exerted, the ankles bleed with the several bruises, but the highway is all the more smooth as the training has already battle hardening the body. The continuous exposure to the rough, seasons the body like tempered metal, chiseled and hammered to its potential. 

Often, the going gets tough. Perspectives and presumptions stare right into the soul, questioning every move at every step. Doubts creep in with the deftness of an eagle at the sight of a snake. Second guessing every decision replaces the once prided concentration and focus, along with indelible memories that nag at the prospect of defeat everytime one closes his eyes.

But the trick is to move on, painfully move one step at a time. Though easier said than done, its the only way to face oneself in mirror without shame. It's rather a phase that has to be leapt across to gain the confidence to face a delinquent self, that desperately needs a helping hand. A self that dares to see hope beyond the mountains of sand in a desert of losses, a self that learns to sail against the tide, in an attempt to finally reach the distant shores.

A change is always a perspective, very much like the illusion of a win. Sometimes, it's the fear of change that forces an abstainment from dreaming. Dreams, that build bridges between what a person is and what he can become, a railroad between his potential and it's realisation.

Often lost in the paths are the crumbs of defeats and painful memories that serve as lessons, for the greatest change is always to be the next one.