prize

It was a big day for Geeta. The biggest day in her life in fact. She wished to crow from the rooftops that she had finally achieved something for herself in her 55 years of existence. Above all she wanted to tell her daughter about it.
Yes, Geeta had won a short story contest for which an amount of Rs 1000 had been announced. No one would have thought it possible. Geeta had never shown any propensity for writing and certainly not the ability or the ambition to win a prize for it. As she set the dinner table, Geeta smiled to herself wondering how she would tell the family about it. They would all ask her the details. Wiping the plates, she went over them in her mind.
It all started when her daughter Minu went to New Zealand for higher studies. Geeta had been the driving force behind the whole idea. A nature lover, Geeta had been smitten by mental pictures of New Zealand, its pristine beauty and it led her to consider it as an ideal educational destination for her daughter. Perhaps deep in her sub conscience was a glimmer of hope that some day she would get to visit the country too. She had persuaded her husband to arrange for the loan, talked to her husband’s cousin who had settled in the country and given Minu her utmost support and encouragement.
Minu had successfully completed her first year of graduation in the well known university of Auckland. Right from Minu’s first day there, through the year, Geeta had lived like in a state of trance. She had listened keenly to every description of the country, imagined campus life and pictured Minu’s friends and classmates. So intense had been her involvement that New Zealand was vividly alive to her. She could rattle off all details about the country, backed by the pictures sent by Minu.
Geeta was brimming with material and ideas and the need to process them almost hurt. Unknown to the rest of the family she joined a computer class nearby. In two months she was fairly proficient in basic computing skills. She started going to a nearby internet café and in her high-school English, she transferred to the computer all that she could remember from the previous conversation with Minu. Then she learned to use the internet and soon was exchanging e mails with her daughter. Her only request was that Minu keep this all a secret, why Geeta herself could not say.
As Geeta grew more familiar with her daughter’s life and the people in it, she began to improve it with her imagination. While doing her morning chores, she would wonder how X, Y or Z was doing in college, their dates, hoping their relationships were stable. She had encouraged Minu to experience the outdoor activities she had learnt about: Swimming with dolphins, watching whales, hiking in a national park and bird watching at a nature sanctuary. With reliable friends of course. From there to weaving them into stories was a credible enough step. Without telling Minu, she took the liberty to enhance the lives of her friends in her stories. Of course her outlook was the one with which she had grown up and with which she was living now. So her stories had a strange mix of Indian ethos in alien people. Geeta’s friend Jaya was her sole confidante. She was more educated than Geeta and her English was better. She lived in the flat just opposite to Geeta’s and they were good friends. When Jaya saw Geeta emerging from the internet café one morning at 11, she was surprised. That is what led to her being let into the secret and eventually to her editing Geeta’s stories without touching their essence. It was also Jaya who persuaded Geeta to send one of the stories for a contest announced in an English language magazine.
As soon as Geeta saw an envelope addressed to her from the magazine, she was very excited. She rushed to Jaya who opened the envelope and danced a jig holding Geeta’s hands. Her story ‘blind date’ had been selected as a winning entry for the very original effect of merging accurate details about a foreign country flavoured with a delicate Indian spirit. The congratulatory letter said the prize money of Rs 1000 would reach geeta in a week’s time.
My! That was a lot to disclose to a lot of family members! That is just those living with her. Her father in law, mother in law, her husband and two college going sons. She had carefully timed her classes and internet café outings when her parents in law rested so they had no idea about it all. Then there was Minu of course and Geeta’s father who would be happiest. While she put things away in the fridge and while she cleaned the kitchen, Geeta’s eyes shone with anticipated appreciation.
She casually put the envelope on the centre table to see whose attention it would catch. As she flitted in and out of the kitchen every ten minutes to keep her prized envelope in sight. Then her husband came. Geeta’s heart beat fast. He put on his reading glasses, he searched the newspapers, put one right on top of the envelope and got immersed in his reading. Geeta panicked when she lost sight of the envelope but she did not want to jut in when her husband was reading. In a state of anxiety she hoped he would soon finish his reading and remove the papers. That was when her mother in law called Geeta. By the time Geeta came back to the living room, all the newspapers were gone and was also gone the envelope. In utter panic, Geeta rushed to the pile of old newspapers and searched for it. It had fallen on the back side of the big heap. Geeta wiped the envelope, looked at her name on it with satisfaction and once again brought it to the living room. The males had got busy watching the World Cup Football. Passions were running high. There was no chance even a shout would register. Geeta took the envelope and put it in the kitchen shelf, a little disappointed.
The next day dawned bright. The memory of the envelope gave an extra spring to Geeta’s gait. She went about her job briskly yet again waiting for a chance to tell her family about the prize. But so self-effacing was she that talking about herself felt odd. She thought she would wait for a more relaxed time. Morning tension was hardly opportune for sharing such a momentous piece of news.
Morning changed into noon and evening and the envelope lay lifeless, gradually getting smeared in kitchen colours, soaking up a bit of oil too. In two days it had still not budged. Nor had Geeta as far as sharing the news was concerned. Then she thought she would wait till the cheque (in flesh and blood) arrived. It would be the first one ever to be issued in her name.
When Jaya saw her the next day, she asked Geeta about it and she told her she would need to open a bank account in her name to deposit the cheque. Geeta was tense.
And sure enough in three days another envelope arrived, similar to the last one, with Geeta’s name on it.
Now there was nowhere to hide. Ironically when she was at the peak of success, Geeta felt utterly diffident. She could not foresee her family’s reaction. Of course they would all be proud of her resourcefulness, of her capacity to learn computers at this age, of her innovative use of her knowledge. Chances were they would rush to call Minu then and there and share the news. She imagined the big flutter of happiness in the house. Her younger son, the favorite of his maternal grandfather, would rush to his house to announce the news. Geeta’s parents-in-law would thank the pantheon of Gods for this wonderful gift. Geeta’s husband might not exhibit too much emotion before others but in the privacy of their bedroom, he was sure to go gaga. Geeta blushed at the thought. He would then tell her that they would go to the State Bank of India the next morning and open a joint account to deposit the cheque. He would wish her more such successes. Minu would yell in joy ‘ How COULD you, mummy?’. Then she would reveal to the others how they had exchanged e-mails and the whole household would go silent in disbelief. Geeta hoped Jaya would drop in while all this was going on so that she would be spared the (happy) pain of describing it all to her later. Jaya was sure to ask her for a treat; oh oh…she better make some kheer before they all demanded it.
The next day was a Sunday. Geeta made the best kheer of her life and placed it in an attractive bowl on the breakfast table. Let it set the ball rolling, she smiled to herself. Thankfully there was no football on TV. She would be the star this morning.
She placed the envelope with the cheque next to the bowl of kheer. She wiped the plated and bowls and put the spoons on the table, eyeing the envelope every five seconds. There they come trooping, she said to herself, her heart going thump thump. Let me make a dash to the gods and make the first offering to them, rather a wholesome, nutritive, delicious thanksgiving, she chuckled.
‘Kheer, wow’ exclaimed the younger son, ‘yummy mummy’.
‘kheer on a Sunday morning. What a change from drab toast!’ commented the elder son.
‘I have diabetes and you usually do not tempt me with sweets. How come you have broken your rule?’ asked her husband.
‘kheer for breakfast would be too heavy for us. We will take a sip later’ quipped her parents-in-law.
The kheer refused to set the ball rolling, let alone kick a multilateral felicitation ceremony.
The envelope lay ignored, unsung.
The doorbell rang. Jaya made a welcome entry.
‘some kheer, Jaya’ said Geeta. She hoped her friend would cut the ribbon.
‘I have just made breakfast. Yet to have it. I won’t disturb your family. I just came to borrow a cup of sugar. Thanks’ she said.
When Geeta had lost all hope, Jaya suddenly sensed her friend’s dilemma. She saw the envelope on the breakfast table and in a flash understood the situation. She had to intervene.
‘Hey Geeta! Did you tell everyone why you have made kheer?’ she asked in a loud voice to offset the others. When everyone looked at her and then at Geeta, she picked up the envelope and took out the cheque.
‘Attention everyone, see what Geeta has won!’ she fluttered the cheque . In the pin drop silence that ensued, Geeta wished she could just vaporize into the kitchen chimney.
‘What is it?’ everyone asked in unison.
‘Geeta has won Rs 1000/- for a short story from a popular English magazine’
‘WHAT’!
As Jaya went into all the details right from the beginning, eyebrows went up. Chairs were pulled, people exited as if in a protest rally. There were murmurs, from numb to uncertain to downright outraged. That Geeta had left the house when they were resting was what struck the parents-in-law. What if one of those evil men, posing as a salesman had barged in and murdered them both? That their mother had trusted her friend more than them irked the sons more than anything else. The younger son was doubly hurt because he always shared everything with his mother and believed it was reciprocal. That his wife could pull a fast one, after so many years of utter trustworthiness jolted the husband like an earthquake.
Minu was scandalized that her mother could use all the inputs she gave to weave stories about her acquaintances and her life-and to win an illicit prize to boot. So this was her mother’s motive to send her to New Zealand!
Jaya had gone.
The bowls of kheer lay in ruins.
A sudden gust of wind threw the cheque to the ground, like a fallen hero.