November Hues: When cold winds are accompanied by warm tea and reflections

I feel failure is such a vilified term despite it being one of the few universal constants in life. Just like death, failure is imminent at some point or the other, making human beings feel miserable about themselves or others.

But, what I think people don’t consider is that just like truth, failure is also a matter of perspective. It is a feeling and not a fact. And like all feelings, it is temporary. It has no true form or shape. It simply exists in our minds, rent free and with its evil twin – unfulfilled expectations.

I don’t know what the dictionary defines as failure. In fact, I have no intention to find out about it, when I know what failure feels, in my bones. And what we feel is so much stronger and powerful than what we know.

I have come to realise, over the short span of time that I have lived (and often unlived) that failure derives its existence from undelivered or unmet expectations. Not just that, failure’s rate of survival depends upon the social network it affects.

When I expect to be the topper of my class, even coming in second will make me “feel” like a failure. When my father expects me to become a doctor, but instead I become a magician (however successful), I will be a failure in his eyes.

When my friends expect me to be by their side but I choose to stand on the sidelines alone, I have failed at the friendship. When society expects me to get married and have children, but I decide to take another path, they see it as my failure.

So, what may bring joy or peace for one, might bring suffering for another. It is simply a matter of context and perspective.

Despite this “profound” realisation, I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do about expectations. They come and go as they feel. In fact, as human beings, as people with thoughts and feelings, we are bound to set up expectation traps, fall into them, and feel the pinch of failure.

Sometimes I have set up these traps intentionally and sometimes I have walked into them because I wasn’t paying attention. Either way, I have fallen and been hurt.

But somehow, life has carried on. Bruises subside, wounds heal, and we either forget or forgive.

But what makes failure bearable and even, likeable to me, is its unlikely friend – compassion. Everytime I fail or judge someone else who might have experienced failure, I recognise my own giant-shaped arrogance. It fills me with compassion for those who have failed before me and honestly, it feels nice to be a part of a community.

This compassion is what gives me strength and maybe even, a character. It is compassion that has taught me to love even when I see no scope of it. It is compassion that has forced me to look beyond my ego and find a space for understanding.

I hope one day there can be a world where we don’t trip on our expectations but until then I want to embrace the risk of tripping on one and coming out a little bit smarter, a little bit more caring, and a little bit more compassionate.

This November, I hope you find compassion for yourself and others, because we have all failed to be who we are supposed to be. What matters is that we have atleast one friend, family-member or even a colleague who celebrates who we are, despite our failures.

Cheers to the failures that helped us grow into who we are today!