Memoirs of a Mirror

What started as a simple telephone conversation ended in love. No, that’s not unusual. But to her, it was. She absently caressed her raven black hair in a state of  absolute frenzy. When she came to her senses , she chided herself  for making her straightened hair a mess. She was going to meet him for the first time and was all excited. Checking her profile for the thousandth time on the dutiful mirror that revealed her not-so-curvaceous figure, she let her fidgety gaze rest on her manicured hands. If she was happy with what she saw, she didn’t show it. It was too much for the mirror to bear. If it had the power to blow itself to a thousand pieces, it would readily have. It let out a smirk thinking how it would be, under the very circumstances. Meanwhile, its rather beauty-conscious, narcissistic mistress checked her profile from a different angle which traumatized the mirror more than ever. In all its 20 years of being there and acting as a faithful servant, it had never seen this much folly. It wanted to yell out loud at its mistress for her unscrupulous ways. [ The mirror pitied her parents. It appreciated her parents’ interest in making her study further though they had limited resources. And here its mistress was, giving it a compliant Dharshan almost 24/7 though uncalled for] So, the principled mirror was in a fit of rage and wished it had the power to do things out of its reach. It let out a coarse sob that ricocheted nowhere.

 The mirror endearingly called its mistress an “Extortionist” for her power-abusing skills. It wanted a break, like all others and wanted something else for a change. This was a mundane life and it hated its mistress for it. She was involving it in purposeless pursuits. It couldn’t hold a grudge though. It was after all, her servant. And the obedient mirror liked its mistress’s cute smile a few years before. The time when its mistress had not been its prolific user and the time when she rarely made her appearance at its dwelling place: the bedroom. Those were the golden days. The mirror would laugh gleefully looking at its mistress playing outside with her friends.  But now! It didn’t feel morally right to think thoughts of enmity but such thoughts were inevitable.

 The Mirror practically went wild when its Mistress brought clowns along with her who only exacerbated matters. It had wished her prudent friends would advice her against her turning into a full time narcissist. But the sycophants didn’t have to be profuse in their language. A few words like “You’ll look much better when you wear a bright pink Kurta” and “ Your hair is a bloody mess. Do something about it. Else, the usual ones that make a pass at you won’t even take a second glance”! And the mirror, its shiny edges glowing with resentment, wanted to tell them “ Oh yeah. Why don’t you do something about the sporadic usage of your almost non-existent brains? “ It pitied the girls who were falling into the nadir of mirage.

 While the Mirror was thinking such human thoughts, its mistress had her mind elsewhere. She hated the way her stomach protruded in the tight-fitting bright pink Kurta. Her to-do list for the year was to go to a gym and take care of her physique. Also, she wasn’t satisfied with the way the mirror showed her rather round face. She had expected  to envision an oval face. She had been dieting to maintain a perfect figure. What had gone wrong! She knew very well about the fact that she was attractive but there was more to her wishlist. She wanted to be lean and curvaceous and compared her profile with a friend’s in her mind. She was in no way modest about her beauty. She wanted to flaunt her ‘gift’ in every way possible. And that was finally going to happen. And nothing on earth stopped her from smiling a iridescent smile that made her heart flutter with a thousand emotions: Not even her not-so-curvaceous figure. All that mattered to her right now was him and the fact that she was going to meet him in a couple of hours. 

She was restless and every single part of her body showed it, unfaithfully. It all started a month ago when she had got a message from an ‘admirer’. That’s when she started developing an inseparable nexus between her mirror and her.  She was intrigued as to who the admirer was and what started as curiosity ended in love (over the telephone). She was going to meet the man of her dreams that day, much to the chagrin of the mirror which knew nothing about all this.

 The mirror let out a sigh in relief, when its mistress took a last glance at it dotingly and mumbled a few words to herself. Her perfectly made-up face looked beautiful indeed and the mirror wished it knew what she was doing. When she was done with whatever she was doing, she kissed the mirror goodbye and chirped all the way to her bike.

 For what seemed like an eon, the mirror waited for its mistress’s arrival.

 The first emotion that engulfed her as she saw his face was disgust. If she had expected to see Mr Gorgeous there, she definitely was mistaken. The disappointment in her surpassed her curiosity and from her demeanor, she was not taken with the not-so-charming prince. He didn’t look like Brad Pitt, but succeeded in making people fall for him by his sense of humor. That was what she had fallen for. The coarse voice that could make fun of anything she had valued as serious in life. But now, her expectations were drowned. She had thought she had found her ideal someone. But the ideal someone had cheated her into thinking he was handsome. Sadly, she didn’t realize that she had idolized him as Prince Charming. If she had the guilty conscience that the mistake was with her, she didn’t show it. She remained impassive throughout the insipid date and mumbled a few words in excuse for leaving the place. Hot tears emanated from her big eyes. She was warily aware of the detail that her made up face would look clumsy. The tears ebbed at last.

 She reached her place at last, wiping the last traces of tears on her face and slammed the mahogany door shut furiously that the door winced. The mirror held itself in straight attention and couldn’t believe what it saw. Its mistress was all bleary-eyed and looked like an apparition. It had expected the rapturous laugh that was characteristic of her. What caught the mirror off-guard was the way its mistress behaved. She started wailing so loud that it wanted to soothe and pacify her. She mouthed a few words in frustration and began breaking objects in her picturesque little showcase. The mirror knew its mistress too well to gain its equanimity. She was a volcano about to erupt and it painfully knew it.

 She broke a lot of objects in her showcase but her anger wouldn’t subside and her anger was actually happy that she didn’t do anything to stop it. So it began its reign proudly. It had its own share of sorrow. Its mistress never used it like she used his new enemy, the mirror. She was biased and Anger couldn’t digest this. It wanted retaliation and now was the time. Now or never.

 In what seemed like a microsecond, a big wooden doll sashayed through the air and hit the mirror, straight across is its face and it crashed. In its last minutes of life, the mirror showed a multitude of emotions. But it crashed eventually and had a not-so-great death. 

Anger gave a devilish grin giving way to self-pity and the beauty-conscious Mistress indulged in it, not aware of what she had done.

The End

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