We often think of courage in ancient terms. Of risking your life to save somebody. Of standing up to the mob for the greater good.

Few of us are called upon in this manner. In our lives, we have to show courage in different situations. Standing up for ourselves. Saying sorry when we need to. Having the difficult conversations that need to be had. Setting aside differences and reaching out to people who are hurting.

Sometimes people would rather push each other away simply because, day by day, incident by incident, it’s the easier thing to do. It’s easier, when somebody has done something wrong to get upset, get furious and shout, than to try and understand their point of view and be rational and reasonable. It’s easier, when someone says something you don’t like or sharply disagree with, to turn away, or to shush them, or to get defensive and pull out something from their past — to use one of the myriad of ways we have to shut down dissident voices. And it’s easiest when it’s always somebody else’s fault.

It’s easier, in short, to stay in our own shoes, but when we do, we just let people walk away from us further and further because they have no other way to deal with us. After a point, even the most patient and reasonable person is going to say: “Nothing is getting through. I have no control over other people’s words and behaviour. But I do have control over mine, and these boots? These boots are made for walking, and they’re going to walk away from you.”

Some of us have tragedies. True tragedies. Accidents. Cancer. Physical attacks. Most of the rest of us have erosion. The long-drawn, grain-by-grain tragedy of self-obsession and immaturity. The decision made through indecision by those around us to give us no choice but to walk away, to remove ourselves from them. And then, when the gap grows large enough for them to notice, they get hurt and blame us again. “You hate me.” “You are cold and unfeeling.” That cliched scene of the movie protagonist standing in front of a mirror, looking past the skin? We could often do with a scene like in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

The tragedy of the tragedy of erosion is that you often don’t realise you’re in it until suddenly the river cuts through bedrock and hurts. Then you look up and realise you’re at the bottom of a 20-foot ravine with no apparent way out — just a way back or a way forward. And frequently, our lives become about walking back and forth — visiting the past, speculating about the future. And when we try to climb out, either we’re grabbed and pulled back in, or we let ourselves slip back. The weight of guilt and duty.

Then when you’re pushed around enough, you realise what you have to do. That you have to move forward and upward. Quietly, while people are distracted. You have to find the gaps in the daily cruelty and grab them. Forward and up. Forward and up. Always stay out of reach. And when you’re out of reach, the world is yours. You can stay and talk, but if the conversation doesn’t go well, you can keep climbing and set yourself free.

Today, I’m climbing. With tears in my eyes, I miss the occasional handlhold and slip, but I keep at it. I climb and climb and I hope that soon I’ll stick my head above it all, look around, pick and path and run free.

Gautam Raja is a journalist based in Bengaluru, India.