Discipline

Suppose you visit one of our religious discourses. The bearded man- it is always a bearded man, never a bearded woman- says, you have to control breath, control food, control your senses, control your thought, control your speech, control your actions, control this, control that.
When you come out of the lecture, and go home in a crowded bus, you are in a foul mood, so much so, you want to control the man standing on your left feet, and throw him tumbling out into the skies, whirling like a dervish.
What is the use, you say, of all this control? That freak speaks rot.
Suppose now I come and tell you, “I have mastered the art of self-denial, Carl Lewis says”.
Would it make you feel better?
I suppose not.
Not even if you knew what his record is.