There is something excruciating about a fallen hero. The object of admiration and envy, now the focus of ridicule. From the pinnacle of success to the deepest doldrums of depression.
There
is a thin line between white and black. Between having courage of
conviction to being stuck up. Between being practical and being
dishonest. Between being authoritative and being a dictator. Between
being ambitious and being cut throat competitive. Between having empathy
and being a sissy. Between being focused and being telescopic. Between
being a realist and being a cynic. Between sharp intellect and sarcasm.
We
cross these lines imperceptibly. And then our best qualities turn into
our Achilles heel. If we can still see ourselves, we can sometimes turn
back. Most times, our insight is transformed into short sight.
Most
times, we, the victims of our own qualities, are doomed to fall from
heights. The very qualities that propelled us to those heights pull us
down. The fall is way faster than the painstaking climb.
If some way, we could see ourselves as we cross the Lakshman Rekha , more of us would remain on the way up rather than slide into ignominy.
