There he stood, tense, alert for the slightest sign of weakness. It was as much a matter of will power as anything else. But even the strong walls of determination could not stop the picture from creeping in. A picture of him, far far away from this maddening civilization, him in an isolated, idyllic place, living life as it is supposed to be lived. Eyes shut tight, he shook his head and hoped the picture would disappear. It was a weakness he could not permit. Had he not been taught the difference between right and wrong? Had he not learnt? Had not the beliefs of generations before him passed on to him? Dangerous things to be passed on - beliefs, he thought. They make you do things without the whys. Shaking that thought away, he plunged into the battleground before anything else could distract him.
He emerged victorious, triumphant, a better person. As he celebrated his victory, a small voice within him said - its not over yet. There's always tomorrow.

Why do we have to bathe everyday?