THE SECOND RANK

Little Neenu felt her heart swell with joy as she stood on the school stage. She couldn’t believe it was her name being called, and now, the principal himself was pinning a badge on her chest. The badge read "SECOND RANK" in bold, shining letters. She felt proud. It wasn’t just any day; it was her day. As she looked at the smiling faces of her classmates and teachers, she thought of one person: her mother.

Neenu couldn’t wait to get home and show her mother the badge. She had worked so hard for this moment. Every day after school, she had stayed up late learning her lessons just like her mother had told her. She believed being a good girl meant doing exactly as her mother said. Today, it had paid off, and she was sure her mother would be happy.

As Neenu went through the day, she kept glancing at the badge on her uniform. The small piece of metal shined bright, just like the happiness she felt inside. Even the strict Social Science teacher, who normally made her nervous, seemed kind and warm today. Everyone noticed how happy Neenu was. Her friends joked with her at lunch, and even her food tasted better than usual. She felt like the world had suddenly turned into a more beautiful place.

The bell rang at 3:30, signaling the end of the school day. Neenu hurriedly packed her bag, carefully arranging her books from largest to smallest. Her mother didn’t like it when her books were all mixed up, and Neenu didn’t want anything to spoil her mood today. For once, she would get a pat on the back and maybe even hear her mother say, “I’m proud of you.”

Neenu ran to her school bus, hopping on with excitement. The driver, whom all the children called Driver Uncle, smiled when he saw her. “Driver Uncle! Look what I got!” she exclaimed, holding out the badge.

“Oy! Smart girl. Very good!” he said, patting her on the cheek. He even gave her a chocolate from his pocket. Neenu’s face lit up with happiness. As the bus rattled along the road, she sat by the window, bouncing in her seat with excitement. She imagined her mother’s face lighting up when she saw the badge.

When the bus reached her stop, Neenu jumped off and ran towards her house. On the way, she passed her neighbor watering the plants. “Aunty, look!” she called out, holding up the badge.

“Wow! Second rank! What a smart girl,” the neighbor replied.

Neenu laughed and sped off, her shoes clattering as she ran through the front yard. She couldn’t get to her mother fast enough.

Kicking off her shoes, she ran straight to the kitchen where her mother was busy cooking. “Amma! Look!” Neenu said, holding the badge up proudly. She hugged her mother and waited eagerly for her reaction.

Her mother turned around and stared at the badge. “Second rank?” she asked, her voice flat. “Who got first?”

Neenu’s heart sank. The joy she had felt all day began to disappear. She looked down at the floor and mumbled, “Amritha.”

Her mother clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Her mother must be so proud of her now. When will you make me proud?” she asked sharply. Then she moved away, her focus already back on cooking.

“Your aunty called. Arun got first rank this time. Learn from him! What a good boy he is.”

Neenu stood frozen. Her whole day felt ruined. She had worked so hard for this moment, and yet it wasn’t enough.

Her mother took a plate of food and placed it on the table.

“Come, eat. That’s what you’re best at anyway,” she said, her tone cutting through Neenu’s fragile happiness.

Neenu sat in front of the plate, but she didn’t touch the food. Tears pricked her eyes as a storm of emotions swirled inside her. She felt angry at her mother, at her cousin Arun, and at Amritha for always being better. Most of all, she felt angry at herself.

“Why am I never good enough?” she thought. The feeling of shame and disappointment wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, suffocating and unbearable.

From that day on, something in Neenu changed. She stopped sharing her school experiences with her mother. She no longer wanted to talk about her achievements or her failures. Slowly, a bitterness began to grow inside her. Every time someone mentioned Arun, the ‘perfect’ boy, Neenu felt a knot of anger tighten in her chest.

Neenu started taking her frustration out on Arun whenever she could. If he visited their house, she found reasons to fight with him. She would kick him, pull his hair, and blame him for things he didn’t do. Every time he cried, she felt a small sense of satisfaction. For once, it wasn’t her crying. For once, someone else was feeling the hurt.

Over time, the people around her began calling her a ‘bad girl.’ Teachers complained about her at school, neighbors whispered about her behavior, and her cousins started avoiding her. But Neenu didn’t care. She stopped caring about what anyone thought.

Still, deep down, a small part of her longed for something more. Beneath her anger and defiance, all Neenu wanted was a little appreciation. She wanted her mother to look at her with pride, just once. She wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her and hear her say, “You’re a good girl, Neenu.”

But those words never came. And as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the emptiness in Neenu’s heart grew. She had stopped believing that things could ever change. Yet, deep inside, that small, hopeful part of her continued to wait—waiting for the day her mother would notice the efforts of her little girl.