The Contest

They lined up looking their best; all polished and groomed, appearing for yet another gruelling round in the beauty pageant.  They all looked cut from the same cloth, similar in size, stature, colour and attire making the contest equally poised and difficult to judge.

Their similarities did not end with the external get-up. And, if only the inner thoughts were put to a test, the charade of the contest would’ve come to the fore. Each of the six finalists nursed a desire to crush the other and emerge victorious, believing that the end would somehow justify the means. Interestingly, these sinister thoughts were kept tightly wrapped with a superficial display of courteous and polite demeanour glittering under flashy lights.

Suddenly, there was a hush. A different kind of tension filled the air. Out of nowhere, two tiny-tots emerged to unite with their lost mother. There were some rushed talks between the judges and the lady, one of the finalists. The others gleamed with wicked relief. How dare a married woman that too one with kids look fitter and younger enough to participate in contests putting to shame the rest of the so-called youth! Now that she was put in her place, they had one less dream to squash into pulp.

Picture credit: Aparna George, who blogs here.

  Linking this to the Wordy Wednesday Prompts at the B-A-R