Monday, 25 June 2007
Pieces of me...
I looked at myself, again for the zillionth time, in my mirror. Been doing it for 23 years. My face looks the same, a little different over the years. I know of this fact only bcos I have pictures of myself to substantiate this fact. Beauty seems to play hide and seek. Sometimes with thoughts, sometimes with my mind. Sometimes through magazines, sometimes through wise talk. Sometimes, through the mirror. Happiness, her friend and confidante, does the same to me. Too much of play and my mirror has cracked. Is it unlucky? I laugh, well it’s been 16 days and I’m the way I used to be, always the same since 23 years. For that matter, I even travelled Bangalore on the same day and I had a ball.
I look for??? I want??? I’m drifting from my ground. Need a breather. The heights rare are dizzying me out. The levels of unknown moments tick me off. I'd there a world I belong to? I need to be there soon. This place is scary. I’ve stayed long enough and know nothing. Isn’t that supposed to be scary? I’ve lost myself in the process. I wait for that cracked mirror to tell me a different story. But it doesn’t. It remains a cracked mirror only. So I’m sound, the mirror is well-behaved, which brings me to think, people are liars. Or simply, idiots. Then whom do I listen to? I am lost, they are idiots and my search is killing me, the rest of me. The confines of my abode snuggle my thoughts.
I feel like an embryo in my mother's womb- safe, reassured and happy. I walk towards my broken mirror. Pieces of reflection glare at me. Distorted, but its all part of beautiful me. The corners of my mouth, find a smile, a rare moment these days.
In my cracked mirror, I find my answers. The lines are showing on my face, clearer. Pictures need not be taken as proof of my life lived. I see the picture clearly. Expecting a future of answers is a journey made in waste. What options does a hopeless soul have? None, through the mist, you make your way. Ask no questions, seek no answers. Cause life is not what we were meant to live. It’s not permanent. Does an ephemeral existence have any answers? Its life beyond death, that’s permanent. Known otherwise as eternal life, all unanswered questions vanish. After all, birth is only the beginning of death.