Story Writing Competition...*Results Link: 48* - Page 23

Malini Shah became Malini Chandok as a twenty-one-year old. Married in a Punjabi household, the newly wed had to face her share of problems, had to make her share of adjustments. Back home, which was no longer 'her own' she, was taught how adjustment was part of a female's life and through out the course of her life, she's liable to any form of change, of any drastic degree. Ordinary!

She married a man whom she was first made to serve and his family tea and showcase her talents. She knew she had to do it; it did not hurt her ego. The very fact that the twenty-four year old tall and hefty figure had welcoming eyes soothed her even more. While the boy's parents questioned her, she multitasked for at the back of her mind, she calculated the pros and cons of marrying him. Not that any of her decisions made a difference.

She was told she was to be married off the coming month. All she did was to suspend her eyelids and help them cover her hazel eyes. She recapitulated the lessons her grandfather had left her. She recollected the meeting wherein her definite mother-in-law-to-be liked how nave and simple she was. And if at all she was to have it through happily, she had to reflect on the feeling that had arose when she looked into the man's eyes she was to marry from the corner of her own.

She remembered, they were given about five minutes to have a word with each other. They walked parallel to each other, very well knowing that indeed, their paths were to be met and entwined for a lifetime. She knew how to cook. Check. She could sew and knew all household chores. Check. He adored the very fact that she had a very scanty knowledge of the outside world. Check ' he knew he was marrying her. His eyes were a most welcoming pair she'd seen, and what he had in mind reflected very evidently out. Hence, they'd known that they were going to have it this way. The ordinary way!

Right after the wedding rituals, she was struck for the first time with the horrid truth of not having to live with her family anymore. And the 'ordinary' dj vu hit again, her tears rolled down her make-up loaded cheeks and fell somewhere on her collarbone. She couldn't help but notice; her husband was close to crying too. The reason could have been any, but his most welcoming pair of eyes made a gesture of assurance. That he was all she needed, that he knew how she felt. On their way to her new and 'only' home, the newly wed fell in love.

A couple of years passed with the blink of an eye. A new one was welcomed with opened arms and watery eyes by the entire household, their son. There really wasn't any stopping. While they battled their respective turmoil, the relationship only managed to strengthen more. And with the coming of another member in the family, the relationship flourished and felt complete. They were content.

It was her thirtieth birthday. She lay in bed with her two sons next to her. They were deep in slumber and their faces seemed like her two personal moons. They twisted and turned, they slightly opened their eyes to their mother at about the same time and smiled at her before being totally sleep-ridden. The glow on their mother's face was that of complacency. The very sight of her children forced her into flashback and painted so vivid a picture of her journey with the man who'd contributed his share well in bringing up the children and fulfilling his family's needs, her husband.

That night, she was stricken with knowledge of something she wished she never should have. 'Amay Chandok', it had embellished on the front page. She flicked through the pages and never realized when an envelope fell off from somewhere from the middle of the diary. She picked it up on seeing it half-torn. She read through it, she never really understood those medicinal terms well but she'd a certain idea of her man having diabetes.

She'd managed through the tantrums of her mother-in-law, mopped her 'own' house like a mere maid and prepared food for five dozen people everyday for nine years. But it happened because her man loved her, he had his hands tied but he was there to support her. She'd obviously had her hope flickering, because even the idea of minding herself without him and raising the kids gave her hundred nightmares, altogether.

Time flew off, the kids were growing ' the caterpillars were out the larva, enthused in order to have wings that fluttered. And their father grew weaker. It wasn't the petty diabetic problem he had, but it was figuratively followed by more than just that. His right arm was paralyzed. The family was unbelievably high with hopes and optimism. Every traumatic situation only brought them closer. The nave mother had to hold her family together, had to see to it that everybody was woven together in the garland. Even one's absence would have broken the entire pattern, she was being selfish ' very selfish a creator.

In times of a situation she couldn't handle, she reminded herself how ordinary she was. And how apt she was to make mistakes and adjust eventually and lastly, how vulnerable she was. It was her moral responsibility to be a friend to her man, a guide to her children and like the backbone of the entire family. She was a woman, and she had jobs to accomplish ' like any ordinary woman. When she realized her kids had grown out of their childhood before they should have, she did the needful. She let them spread their wings and go their own ways.

She'd to blame herself for their loss but the kids were too much a support that it never felt like any circumstance or any of her teaching had made them who they were. The exterior of the family was that of one, finely perfect. The interior had a different story to tell, an ordinary story to tell ' each one of the four battled everyday, for themselves and for one another. They celebrated every moment of life and cherished their togetherness. But time had really come, the butterflies were leaving.

After the transformation of her boys to men, she had them going. They had their goals set and she was all support. Her man needed a patient listener to discuss work issues and over family conflicts and she was all ears. But even at forty-two, the woman had not the slightest of an idea of what she wanted. She wanted them, certainly but life had never given her a chance to grow out of the twenty-one year old who was married off with the teachings of her conservative family. She'd had her own dreams, her passion to achieve the unknown goal dead.

That could have mattered more, if he hadn't known. Amay's most urgent wish of all was to see his wife delivering a speech on the podium on receiving the 'Indian of the year' award. She would ask him the reason of making such dramatic wishes but he'd zip up. Petty celebrations, once a week visiting the kids, discussing TV shows, watching a movie once a month and still the unbelievable hope high were all their lives had!

Her man's pain had increased, and now it was sure he could not work. While he believed there couldn't have been a better excuse to keep off from office, his wife knew the battle neared its end. Although her duties were still the same, she had started to dream of fulfilling her man's most urgent wish. It had made room in her and revoked the irrevocable will of achieving every bit of her 'want', similar to the one she'd as a nave young lady.

They'd aged but his eyes were still enough welcoming to have her open up and share her inner conflicts. He did not have a solution every time, however, the very listening of his helped her. She had set her goal straight now. Her family supported her and she realized it isn't ever late to start learning. She learned. She worked hard. And at the end of that year, her firm was opened. She was a vital part of the medical company that had given her man a few more years to live.

Time and tide wait for no man? Ordinarily and fairly known by all! The three surrounded the deathbed of Amay Chandok. The youngest, had his hope the firmest while the elder knew he'd to support his mother but his hope was flickering badly. The man on his last legs felt caged in umpteen of cords and syringes he'd sunk in his nerves. He knew he was breathing his last and gathered strength to open his eyes to his world, with whom he would be throughout in spirit, at heart. The four smiled to each other for one-long moment. Malini's husband's eyelids were never to spoon up again and showcase the most welcoming pair of eyes she'd ever seen. They were lidded and shut for the rest of her lifetime. She wasn't going have an opportunity to look into them ever again. Chandok jee were gone.

"Unlike most mothers, I am fortunate to have my two sons still with me, as my pillars of support. And unlike most mother-in-laws, I share a marvelous rapport with their wives. It has been fifteen years exactly that we lost Chandok jee, my husband and the very fact that I am here achieving this award is because he helped me figure out the zeal in me and know my worth. He wanted me to contribute this little bit that I have to this country and to be here delivering a speech. I thank him, I thank my children and I thank all of you ' listening to the squeaky voice of a sixty year old woman for two minutes is pain to both mind and ears!"

While she was being helped down the stage by her granddaughter, she had the Indian of the year trophy welded to her left hand. She was still apt to make mistakes, liable to adjustments and perfectly human to be selfish. She was Mrs. Malini Chandok, just another ordinary woman.