The silver trophies glistened in the dim light of the corridor, standing tall in the sacred cupboard outside the Principal’s office. I took a step closer, to read the names inscribed on their polished surfaces. The engraved names dated back to the 1950s, and by now, I had memorized quite a few. These alumni were unknown to me, yet they were my idols. I wanted my name brandished on these trophies too, against 2012 – the year when I was passing out from school.
You see – to be a competitor, you first have to be sure that you can make it to the top, to be the best. Competition makes you feel that way. It makes you think you can win the race because you make it imperative for yourself. It sets goals for you that you have to achieve without fail. It makes you feel that all your efforts have to bear fruit, even if someone else has put in an equal amount of blood, sweat and tears.
An irrepressible feeling of desire to hold these trophies, herald their triumphs, stirred in my heart. I wanted to reach out and unlock the glass doors and savor their touch in my hands; the order imprinted on my mind. The Honor Cup, awarded to the student who achieved the highest number of honors for the school, stood the tallest. Next to it was the cup for the Best Girl of the School, and then came trophies for various subjects.
The first two trophies had been on my wish list ever since I became sensible enough to know their worth. I craved for them the way an athlete yearns to reach the Olympics and earn a gold medal. I knew the trophies I was staring at were reserved for the very best, and that was where I wanted to be positioned – right at the top of the victory stand. I had strived to earn my right to these through eleven years of school life and at that time, in the last year of my school, the sentiment was at its strongest.
As I stood there, imagining myself holding those accolades, I heard soft footsteps behind me. A reflection emerged in the glass panes of the cupboard doors, and I turned around to face my rival, Maliha. She smiled at me, seemingly surprised to find me there. For me, Maliha’s smile was almost a sneer. I smiled back at her– managing only a tight-lipped, forced one. In my mind, I was calculating the number of contests where she had represented the school and how many points she would have accumulated by now. I was comparing my own record with hers, the list distinct in my memory. A feeling of dread overcame my heart as I entertained the thought of Maliha winning the accolades for which I had worked so hard. They were my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and here she was, vying for the same. This fear was not unknown to me; I knew the feeling all too well.
The fear that makes you as wary as the majestic tiger about to attack its prey, that makes suitors ensure not a hair is out-of-place when they arrive to woo their beloved, that makes you seek perfection in an elocution contest so that even the slightest tremor in your voice does not cost you. It is what makes people calculate the best possible scores within seven letters in a game of Scrabble. It was the fear of being uncannily precise.
Maliha sighed as she gazed at the trophies. “They always look so ancient, don’t they?” she asked, breaking the ice between us. I nodded in agreement, careful not to give away my eagerness to have them. Despite our calculated glances at each other, we both knew the feeling of competition gnawing inside. “I’m waiting to see who gets them this year,” she continued. Upon hearing no reply, she turned around, her smile now mocking me. “Aren’t you waiting too?” she whispered. “Oh yes, I really am.” I answered in a monotone. However, at that moment, I relished a different set of words in my mind – I will beat you to these.
The intense, competitive drive that I felt at that moment gave me an adrenaline rush to make it to the metaphorical finish line before her and to claim the trophies as mine. This made me fierce, daring, bold and proud.
In the years later to come, I realized so much more about competition. It means continuous striving, and it is unforgiving towards whoever falls within its influence. Once you are in the ring, it is imperative that you emerge victorious against your opponents and against your own persistent fear of failure. Failure drives competition. It is a parasite that thrives on the horror and dread, and what makes individuals do things they would hardly dream of doing. It can both make them a better or a worse person. It, hence, defines you in your struggles.
So when I had managed to climb my way to an illuminated stage to receive those two special trophies at the end of the school year, I still asked myself who was I? Why was I doing this?
