Prompted By What Motive?

The silence in the arena was deafening. The room, which a minute ago was so much alive with the symphony of different languages, voices, accents and tones, suddenly went dead silent as everyone held their breadths to hear the name of the winner. I heard the hammering of my heart and was afraid it could drown the sound of the other hearts that were going through the same moment of tension. In a split second, I looked up and a word on an LED projector at the far end of the room caught my attention and nearly threw me off guard. Though in that same second, I heard my name as the winner and the cheer of my fans and my other running mates congratulating me for my conquest, I felt a thug at my soul: I still was not fulfilled.

I plastered my face with the most radiant smiles and had a tear fall off my face for finally getting all the fame and acclaim I wanted. I received my crown with the elegance of the swan and walked off stage with the grace of the peacock but my heart was empty. Like a bloodhound, the word which was in that last moment my undoing, pursued me. Motive! I could not tell the full import of that word but I knew it was contributing to the feeling of failure in me. When I finally got to my room after all the celebration, I plopped onto my bed and allowed the heaviness to swallow me. I wept my heart out. I felt a hand on my head and realized that my mother had come to me.

“Why are you crying, Mabel?” she asked gently. I was only able to shake my head and shrugged ignorance. “I thought fame was what I needed and I thought winning this pageant is what would make me feel important but I don’t know anymore,” I said spasmodically.

My mum took my hands in hers, wiped a tear off my face with her hand and looked at me intently and asked, “what was the real motive behind your sudden decision to compete in this pageant?” At the word motive, my tears suddenly ceased. “What has motive to do with this, mom?” I asked irritably taking my hands away and folding it on my chest in defiance. I remembered in that instance how Anita had scoffed at me and told me I could not be a part of their girl’s group because I was a nobody. I remembered how I had sworn in my heart on that day to prove her wrong and to show that I was actually better than herself and her godforsaken group. I remembered the seething anger I had felt against them and how I quickly seized the opportunity of being in the pageant to show them that I did not need them at all. My mother broke through my thoughts.

"Fulfilment only comes from doing things with the right reasons dear,” she answered sententiously. "That's why the best time spent is one spent doing what you love and for your own benefit as well as that of others." She reclaimed my hands and squeezing it, she looked deep into my eyes as if to read them and added, "I'm old and I've learned over the years that the worst one can ever do to oneself is to live the life of other people and to spend time doing things to spite people."

"My only hope is that you've not chosen any of these."

I could no longer hold the tears. Though I had not told her my motive, her words cut deep and showed me the reason I still felt like a failure though I'd won the Regional Beauty Pageant which I had worked so hard for. "There, there now, don't weep." She drew me into her arms and comforted me.