The young boxer enters the boxing ring, ready to win the fight of his life. He looks around to find a stadium full of supporters who cheer him, "GO CHAMPION, GO! YOU CAN DO IT". The young boxer can feel the adrenalin rush in his body. He's all pumped up. And, he's got a stadium full of people who root for him. What else can he expect? It is an opportunity of a life-time that he simply cannot afford to lose. He has to win this match. It's a DO or a DIE thing for him. He has to win it at all costs.
The referee blows his whistle to start the first round. The rookie fires off his knuckles instantly, landing punches on his opponent which seem to be assuring him of a guaranteed victory with every punch he lands. He feels elated that the round has started off so well. He seems to be gaining greater and greater control over his opponent with every passing second. Until finally,......there is a sudden hush in the stadium. The young rookie has been knocked out with one single, powerful blow from his opponent. His supporters disappointed, yet always hopeful and never the ones to lose hope start cheering him up again. "Cmon CHAMP. GET UP, you still can do it".
"Well, it's only the first round of my first match, that's okay. I am only starting, but in any case, the victory is mine, for I know who has trained me". So saying to himself, the rookie tries to regain his strength and gets up, ready for the next round. This time, he seems to be in a much better shape. He seems to have learned his opponent's tricks. The opponent tries the same old trick he used to win the first round. But, the rookie has learnt better. He's not stupid. He's not falling for this one again. "That's one victory right there", the rookie thinks to himself, "he can't use the trick anymore on me". The opponent is surprised, but not concerned. He's won so many matches before that he's all too wise to know exactly what each situation needs. He pulls out a second trick, different from the first one from his huge bag full of tried and tested tricks. "This one will surely do", thinks the opponent to himself. And, boy! is he right?
The rookie is lying on the floor, blood splattered alongside him. The second trick of the opponent worked just perfect. There's only one person in the entire stadium who's all smiles. It's the opponent himself who's laughing wickedly at the poor rookie and his supporters. He snarls at the supporters in their faces, his bloodthirsty face just thirsting for more of the rookie's blood. And he swears to the rookie's supporters he will draw out even the very last drop of blood the rookie has.
"Wake up son. You can fight and even win this match", a familiar voice rings in the rookie's ears. It's that of his master. His master has come. The master's tender voice strengthens him and he regains his spirits. In a short while, the rookie is back on his feet. Blood trickling down his face and all, but a renewed vigor and energy filling him up.
The referee blows the whistle. The action begins. This time, the rookie surprisingly appears stronger than in the first two rounds, his blood stained face notwithstanding. He lands punches on the opponent with such force and energy this time that the opponent himself is taken by surprise. Suddenly, the opponent appears to be losing in everyone's eyes. But, that's not to be so. He is an old warrior. He's been there and done that all too many times before. And, he's got a trick tailormade for every situation. Out he pulls a third one and before the joyful shouts of the rookie's fans could lift the roof off the stadium, he makes sure the roof is intact and still in place. His old and faithful trick proves faithful once again. The rookie is hanging on to the ropes at the edge of the ring for dear life, blood just gushing out of his mouth like water from a spring, eyes swollen and almost blinded. He needs to be hospitalized immediately. "The match is over, I've lost", thinks the dejected and downcast rookie in his semi-conscious state, the shock of losing the match paining his soul far more than the wounds inflicted on his body.
"Do not lose heart my son. Do not lose courage. You need not lose your own blood anymore. Because, I've already shed my blood and given it for you, down to the very last drop. This old warrior that you think is defeating you is himself a defeated foe already. I've defeated him long back. Fair and sqaure, once and for all. He's really my enemy, not yours. And now the fight that you think he's trying to win over you is really not to win over you, but only to get back at me, the sore loser that he is. He knows fully well that once he can deceive you into thinking that this is your battle, he can pain me by paining you, because then he's not blinding YOUR eyes, but touching the apple of MY eye. You need not need to fight in this battle. All you need to do is simply keep your guard carefully, obeying the instructions I've given you. Because, he cannot land a blow on you unless you first lose your guard, disobeying my instructions. And the blows that you will land on him are not blows from your own knuckles, because your own knuckles are too weak to even elicit an annoying smirk from him. What you need is simply my name and my word. Use it and he's sure to cringe back in fear and will leave with his tail in between his legs".
The rookie, though has lost his own strength is once again strengthened by his master's words and returns to the center of the ring. The opponent is greatly surprised. He had thought that he had finished the rookie. He hates this. He hates it when rookies keep coming back, again and again. It's not new to him. He's faced this countless times before. And he's getting more and more thirsty and desperate for that one final, complete victory over a rookie which seems to be eluding him, and which to him is not just a victory over the rookie as much as it is over the one he hates the most, the master of the rookie. His hatred for the master of the rookie keeps only increasing, because this master has not only won a resounding victory over him long back, the sound of which keeps echoing down the corridors of time and in his ears, but to add pain to his misery, his own final destiny seems to be appoaching at a more and more rapid pace with every rookie that he faces.
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