Competition

Written by: Ramsha Ekhlaque

Class: A1C4

Edited by: Marziya Farooq A1-C1

I caught a glimpse of the perfect angel lying beside me, lost in a deep slumber. She reminded me of days long gone. Back when all I received was appreciation and praise. It is said that perfection is an impossibility; however, they would say that If not perfect I was the next best thing. Back then, I was the victim of envious looks from my friends and family. My thick long hair, fair complexion, high cheekbones, and heart shaped hazel eyes, all these features held the power of capturing whoever laid eyes on me. Nature did not forget to add brains to beauty. From being the best debater to an A grader to an exceptional athlete, I was the jack-of-all-trades. The world would revolve around me and I believed it would never end.

I achieved everything one would ever desire for; an excellent education, a loving husband who would shower me with affection and a fulfilling job. Every time I would enter a public place on the arm of my husband, we would become the centre of attention. My husband would puff his chest and walk briskly with pride.

Then ‘she’ arrived. The day the nurse place her in my arm, I did not feel any immediate connection or affection towards her. It was like any other day to me. They say motherhood is the best experience for a woman but to me, it was just an unneeded responsibility. The first hint of a competition arose when my husband said that she had my eyes. Then gradually people started telling me that she was an exact replica of me. Slowly but surely it dawned on me that she was turning into a great beauty. The competition for attention gave birth to a furious monster within me. I was not willing to share my title of perfection with anyone, not even my own blood.

Then onward I made it my mission to crush whatever confidence instilled in her that could lead her to the spotlight which I alone deserved. She would bring home 9/10 and I would torment her for the lone mark she did not achieve. She did her best to make me proud but I refused to act satisfied. Her spirit and spark started to fade but the praises never stopped. They kept comparing her to me and I could not take it anymore. I needed it to end.

Therefore, I stole a look at her again. Only that now the rhythmic beating of the chest had gone. Then I looked at the pillow in my hands and smiled. I had destroyed my competition.