A horse never runs so fast as when he has other horses to catch up and outpace.-Ovid
Competition!competition!competition!No matter,if you go to a school,or an higher institution, or you are a job aspirant (government or private),or you own a shop, you work at any sector;a certain level of competition will hang on your head to gear you up at every point of your life. And if you try and escape from the monster, in one way or the other, it comes back to you, to remind your purpose of existence over this earth.But the real question of the hour is, does competition pumps up a person? Or does it make them feel more distressed? We all are surrounded by innmuberable questions, that makes the most intrinsic parts of our lives, but eventually fail to answer them. Who scored the best? Who is this year’s CBSE topper? Who all got the promotion? Why did you not achieve that rank? And etc etc etc. finally making, either the person think upon it, do to better, or sadly making them disheartened over their loss.
Living in a society as this, who wants nothing but success, it has now become common phenomenon to see people competing against each other, sometimes winning, and sometimes failing. The extent to which their winning and losing matter, does nothing, stretches the line of demarcation about how good or evil the competition becomes for them. The term, healthy competition, which is getting more and more popularity today, may seem convincing, but it actually does not matter, unless the person understands its literal sense. So, consequently, the question is still the same, directly or indirectly, how good is competition for the youth? Whether you are a youngster, or a child, competition begins right from the day you step out of the womb of your mother. But, for an adult or youngster, it becomes much more difficult to get up and walk along the path that they have choose for themselves. If you are a school pass out, first thing you have to do is try and get the best carrier path for yourself, and the tussle doesn’t end there, to get the right job becomes another duty. But, if you are fighting for a competitive exam, dedication and struggle is all, that you have to do, but if you fail, the responsibility comes upon you, and to kill your motive, “words of the world” are enough. And if you are seeking for a job, you have to be perfect of all. Leading to more and more compitiveness among the youth.Talking about the goodness of competition in youths’ lives, it is totally dependent upon the perception of oneself, so as to be a burden of oneself, or just get pressurised over what hasn’t been well, yet. The term, healthy competition, which has been called upon many a times to motivate people, has worked out for those who really know what it is conveying, but the people who have less dedication towards what they want, and are confused as to what to do, ones they fail, are more likely to be disappointed with their own expectations. Putting all your heart and soul into something and still not getting out the results, and seeing everyone else moving ahead, is like a jerk to the soul. But, still working over it is the indication, that you are progressing in life, cutting through all the rough routes you have been into.
Competition actually pumps any person up to work more and more over something, but giving up on it does not have to be the only option, because once you stop, starting from the scratch remains the only option, eventually seeing others moved far off.



You do not do, you do not doAny more, black shoeIn which I have lived like a footFor thirty years, poor and white,Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.Daddy, I have had to kill you.You died before I had time–Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,Ghastly statue with one gray toeBig as a Frisco sealAnd a head in the freakish AtlanticWhere it pours bean green over blueIn the waters off beautiful Nauset.I used to pray to recover you.Ach, du.In the German tongue, in the Polish townScraped flat by the rollerOf wars, wars, wars.But the name of the town is common.My Polack friendSays there are a dozen or two.So I never could tell where youPut your foot, your root,I never could talk to you.The tongue stuck in my jaw.It stuck in a barb wire snare.Ich, ich, ich, ich,I could hardly speak.I thought every German was you.And the language obsceneAn engine, an engineChuffing me off like a Jew.A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.I began to talk like a Jew.I think I may well be a Jew.The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of ViennaAre not very pure or true.With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luckAnd my Taroc pack and my Taroc packI may be a bit of a Jew.I have always been scared of you,With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.And your neat mustacheAnd your Aryan eye, bright blue.Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You–Not God but a swastikaSo black no sky could squeak through.Every woman adores a Fascist,The boot in the face, the bruteBrute heart of a brute like you.You stand at the blackboard, daddy,In the picture I have of you,A cleft in your chin instead of your footBut no less a devil for that, no notAny less the black man whoBit my pretty red heart in two.I was ten when they buried you.At twenty I tried to dieAnd get back, back, back to you.I thought even the bones would do.But they pulled me out of the sack,And they stuck me together with glue.And then I knew what to do.I made a model of you,A man in black with a Meinkampf lookAnd a love of the rack and the screw.And I said I do, I do.So daddy, I’m finally through.The black telephone’s off at the root,The voices just can’t worm through.If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two–The vampire who said he was youAnd drank my blood for a year,Seven years, if you want to know.Daddy, you can lie back now.There’s a stake in your fat black heartAnd the villagers never liked you.They are dancing and stamping on you.They always knew it was you.Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through 

story by -Rabindranath Tagore-