Progress Demands Change, Not Consistency

When Consistency Becomes a Cage

“Be consistent,” we have been told. Wake up at 5 a.m., drink the same green juice, post your daily motivational quote, and grind like a machine. 

Sounds impressive, but let’s be honest - donkeys have been doing that forever. They walk the same road every day, carry the same load, and never once stop to ask, “Boss, why are we even going this way?”

We all know this person - the one who takes pride in doing things the same way, year after year. The kirana shop opens at 9:00 a.m. sharp, the racks are stacked with the same Parle-G packets and Nirma detergent, and the hand-written price tags look like they belong to another decade. It feels safe, dependable, even admirable - proof of discipline and dedication.

But outside, the world is moving at a different speed. Big Bazaar and D-Mart arrive, Swiggy Instamart and Blinkit deliver groceries at the doorstep, and customers change their buying habits overnight. Suddenly, the very consistency that once seemed like a strength begins to feel like a weakness. The shutter still opens right on time, but fewer and fewer customers walk in - because they’ve already clicked their orders online.

Now compare that with icons who thrived because they refused to stay stuck. Imagine if Dhirubhai Ambani had said, “Let’s just keep running the textile business - it’s consistent.” There would have been no Reliance Petrochemicals, no Jio, no transformation in the way India shops and communicates.

Or think of Sachin Tendulkar - if he had stubbornly stuck to the same batting style, he would never have adapted to T20 cricket and extended his career.

And Amitabh Bachchan? Had he stayed only the “angry young man” of the 70s, we would never have seen the reinvention that made him a legend again through TV, character roles, and endorsements. Their greatness lay not in blind consistency, but in the courage to adapt, reinvent, and be gloriously inconsistent.

Consistency is great for brushing your teeth or paying your EMIs. But if you want to stand out, innovate, or actually succeed, stubborn routine won’t cut it. Flexibility, curiosity, and a little chaos are far better companions than donkey-like plodding.

Because at the end of the day, consistency is nothing but walking in circles with pride. Donkeys are brilliant at that. Humans? We were built for detours, leaps, and the occasional misstep that takes us somewhere new.

If consistency makes you feel proud, just remember - donkeys are the gold medalists of consistency. Be human. Be inconsistent, intelligently.

About the Author

Power of Prayer - Satish’s Silent Strength

 

Satish and the Silent Strength

Satish was a middle-aged executive living in a busy metro city. He lived in a small but neat apartment with his wife Anjali, a schoolteacher, and their cheerful ten-year-old daughter, Uma. Life was simple. Mornings were a rush of tiffins, school bags, and office bags. Evenings were filled with homework, dinner, and laughter.

Satish had a bad back. Some days were better, some worse. But he never complained. He managed with a smile, a hot water bag, and the quiet support of his loving family. His life wasn’t perfect, but he always said, “God has given me more than I deserve.”

Every morning, before the world woke up, Satish spent ten minutes at his tiny prayer corner. A small lamp, a few idols, and a well-worn copy of the Bhagavad Gita rested there. He would sit cross-legged, close his eyes, and chant softly. It wasn’t a long ritual - just a few minutes of silence and surrender.

His wife once asked him, “Do you think all this really changes anything?”
He smiled and replied, “Maybe not outside, but it changes everything inside.”

Satish believed in the power of prayer - not as a way to ask for miracles, but as a way to find strength. On tough days, when his back hurt or work overwhelmed him, those few minutes helped him stay calm. He didn’t pray to avoid problems. He prayed to face them better.

On weekends, he took Uma to a nearby temple. Not for long sermons, but just to sit in silence. “Listen to your breath,” he would say. “That’s where peace begins.” Slowly, Uma started to enjoy those moments. She would light a diya and whisper a small wish. Sometimes for her exams. Sometimes for her mother’s health.

Prayer became a habit in their home. It wasn’t loud or elaborate. It was quiet, sincere, and filled with gratitude. Even during festivals, their rituals were simple. Aarti, sweets, and prayers said with love.

One day, Satish had a bad spasm. He had to stay in bed for a week. But he never seemed frustrated. He smiled, prayed, and even guided Uma through her studies lying down. “This too shall pass,” he whispered, as his fingers gently touched his prayer beads.

When he recovered, his doctor remarked, “Your positivity really helps with healing.”
Satish simply nodded. He knew where that strength came from.

Prayer didn’t take away his back pain or solve every problem. But it gave him clarity, patience, and peace. It helped him stay kind when he was tired, and hopeful when things went wrong.

For Satish, prayer was not about asking. It was about thanking. It was not about changing life. It was about changing how he lived it.

And in that quiet strength, Satish discovered life’s true power.

About the Author