I, the mirror…
“Finally the first day of school arrived. I had my fourth period as English. Very few people in my class have a special yearning for a subject such as English. But me? I am all for it. It so happens that most people tend to say that poems are overanalysed which leaves them in intricate ambiguities. Well this time, the poem hit me right in the heart. It was a beautiful piece written by Sylvia Plath, titled Mirror.”
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
the eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
And then I started dwelling on what a mirror would have had said to us humans in today’s era…
What is the hardest thing to do after a Maths exam goes bad? Accept reality.
What do you do after the death of a loved one? Accept reality.
What can’t a doctor do when his patient dies on the operating table? Accept reality.
I maybe a mere mirror, but I do know a little about all you human beings standing before me. I have seen all of you for such quite a long time that I have got accustomed to your behaviour with me. You may think that I am quite high-headed, but I feel that it is through me that you strain to accept your reality. Society is a cruel institution, my friends, and you have been choking for quite some time by its large hands. But I believe that society is made of you, after all. Maybe you went wrong somewhere with your notions of reality, beauty, ugliness and acceptance. Who am I? Just a ‘thing’ that shows you your outer appearance.
You are all more than that. A person who smiles every day is maybe being treated for clinical depression. A man who is seen begging on the road is maybe a wealthy man in disguise. Outer appearances are all subjective. But still, society judges you according to them.
I believe that being beautiful is being you. (Refer to my earlier blog!) It’s the purest form you can acquire. Very few people in this world can be that. They either hide their real selves inside, pretend to be someone they are not or don so many personas that they are unable to even recognize themselves.
So to convey what I am saying, yes please use me to fix your make-up, click selfies (I recently learnt that word), talk to yourself or even use me as decorations in projects. I love this feeling of being indispensable to you all. Maybe that is where I get my arrogance from. But please don’t damage yourself. You are more than what you know. Let people know by what you are. Not how I make you look. Because after all, I am only but a mirror.