Sunday, September 5, 2010

Mirror, mirror

a strange journal into the unemployment of S.Kandaswamy 
chapter 17: Mirror, mirror                                                                                                                            

Standing in the plain shower washing over my sense and I stand holding the wall as I drench myself in the warm bath. Looking through the small window as the water drips and falls drop by drop from the flattened ends of my dissolving hair, I see the sun suddenly looking back at me. A good morning indeed and I dry myself in front of this old mirror. It has been ages since I last looked at me, standing naked before me; I can barely see the perfection upon the contours running deeply on my skin.
As a child do I remember that I spoke so loud that I could not hear myself as I shouted every word in my head and it were only my eyes that could hear the reflections of my lips. How many times would I stare into my own eyes, never understanding what lay behind them and to search for something else instead, just to look away from them. Am I peculiar with these feelings that I confess of my forever selfish concerns and so often consumed by curiosity of what I see in this mirror. Questions and questions I ask them still, one by one that I count the pebbles that lay scattered around me and what of these questions must I answer now for every answer I know.
A reflection of myself and just me and only me and the only question that remains is that all I have seen, could that be everything that I want to see? Sitting in a room and hiding from the wind and the trouble seeking clouds outside waiting for me to turn my cheek for every slap that I should expect out of every word that I hear myself speak.
Shedding as much light on my smile as I can, running the mile in my heart as fast as I can to achieve everything that I desire so badly and the milk of my efforts are starting to show on my face. The signs of hesitance and the troubled wrinkle upon my temple have laughed with mirth at the sight of each other for the vain smile has now vanished. Tongue tied before the mirror as my magically conjured laughter vanishes again and now the spirit has become dormant in its release.
The strongest believer that I am myself, would I remember the seconds that keep slipping away?

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