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Poems On / About MIRROR  2/7/2016 8:56:42 AM
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The Mirror

I saw her walk across the hallway. The glistening roof - head mirror highlighted her confident steps. She had taught me to stand tall over the past few months. She was my angel.

In a moment, she was beside me and I looked in her eyes.

The mirror…


The sun shone bright to a brand new day. I opened my eyes in the dark confinement of my curtained room. The walls were my guardians, a cocooned shell where I learnt, lived and wrote for the prime time of my days and slept relentlessly at nights. Today was no special as I got up. But those eyes in the mirror were a revelation.

'Its half past eight ', came the shrieking voice that often pulled me out of bed. It was Amma. The morning alarm as usual, as I went rushing to the loo for yet another day.

I washed my face in the running water. The geyser hadn't done its job for the water seemed cold enough to send a shiver across my spine. The over head mirror under usual circumstances would be the sole victim of my morning gaze. Today, strangely I avoided it.

I got down as fast as I could. My mind was wandering and I hardly saw the steps. In a moment it happened. I had slipped.

Two arms held me close and I knew I was safe. ' Happy Birthday dear', which took me by the greatest surprise, and then added on ' How many times have I told you to watch your steps? '

Nothing unusual.

That was Amma - intimacy intermixed with anxiety, but above all it was out of love.

The traditional birthday kiss followed; on my forehead and I smiled for I hardly did remember the date. It was something that I had been trying to forget for the rest of my life.

The grandfather's clock by the lobby showed 5 minutes to nine. I was going to be late for college.

I grabbed a sandwich from the dining table and hurried out with my scooty keys.

The sky seemed dusky. It was obvious to expect a morning pour. I looked up. It was like a mirror; it reflected the darkness within me.

I rode off in a hurry.

The college road was busy as always. The lights turned red as I passed the by-lane. I switched gears and waited patiently for the lights to turn green. Red, green, yellow- coloured mirrors, I thought which constantly reminded us to pause, think and move on. As I turned my glance, the rear view mirror of the scooty caught my attention.

The eye - I shuddered as I saw it again.

I wondered what was happening around. The play of illusion or conscience that seemed to bother me now. ‘ Time is relative ', I recalled from my favourite lectures on relativity. Einstein was right. I now wondered whether thoughts were.

The lights turned green and I jolted my vehicle forward. In a moment, another scooter slammed its way forward, only to lose control and bump into a truck which was taking a turn. The scooter slammed across the footpath, and a girl, about my age dropped heavily onto the footpath and over the tarred road. As I saw the blood flowing from her body, the picture became clear.

The eye.
It was Diya's.

Diya and I were the best of pals. I hardly remember when we started noticing each other, less became so bonded. She knew me inside out. Even that day when she went on my scooty to buy me a gift on my 21st birthday. I shuddered at the very thought of it, and the date had turned red for me thereafter. She was hit by a truck. I never saw those eyes again.

It took me years to get along and to strive forward. Thanks to my parents who always supported and cared. But today as I saw the girl in blood lying a feet from me, the past came flashing back. Like a lightening that had struck me in an instant and turned me blind.
I sound of horns, screeches and exponential chaos brought me back to reality. The crowd grew larger with the pain across my chest. I could hold back no more.

I took the girl and with the help of a few police men carried her into a cab and all the way to the nearest hospital. I rested her head on my lap and looked at her blood stained face as the cab made its way. She was my age, pretty and petite. ‘ Just like her ', I thought.

It seemed like ages for the cab to reach the hospital, or was it me for I hardly noticed the commotion around. My eyes never left her face as she was carried onto the stretcher and finally into the ICU. The place was no alien to me. I recalled how I had spent days and nights in front of that room years back, only to finally see her covered in white. But today it was different.

The mirror.

I now realized what she meant, as I sat down in front of that closed room without windows. The walls were my witnesses. I looked at those seamless structures plastered in white. Like a mirror to bring back past memories in me. In a flash, I saw those eyes. Again.


Diya had died in an accident. She had died because there wasn't anyone to help her, to get her medical care. She had died due to an acute case of hypovolemia, or blood loss.

I now realized what she wanted to say. Perhaps to let me know how it all happened. More importantly the importance of a living soul. The need of the hour was to help one another, despite the hurry burry of this rat race. Heartless machines which run relentlessly all around the clock, no time to care or share or even help the one in need.
Was I the same? It was a question to think upon. Perhaps a yes for an answer, for I'd to pay a greater price - bargaining with the life of my best friend.

The mirror had taught me a lesson.

The operation lights went out.The girl's parents had also arrived by then. The agony of losing loved ones, I'd known that.

I wished it was not the familiar white which awaited us. I held my breath as the door opened. It was Dr. Mani.

Neha was out of danger. So that was her name. I had hardly noticed the name on the sheets I'd signed before the operation. But now I knew it.

Neha. In Sanskrit, it meant love.

……………………. ** …………………

I saw her walk across the hallway. The glistening roof - head mirror highlighted her confident steps. I had grown immensely close to her over the past two years. She had taught me to stand tall and strong. The shouts and cries around never disturbed me from my thoughts. It was my graduation ceremony and the air jumping, with the beat of country music. But for me she attracted all the attention. She was serene and radiant.

She was my angel.

In a moment, she was beside me. She held my hand in hers and whispered,

‘Happy Birthday'.

Yes. It was two years since, and a graduation to add to that. I recalled Diya telling me that she'd give me the most cherished gift on my 21st birthday. She had indeed.

A tear wiped its way, as I looked into Neha's eyes.

It was like a mirror.
I could see myself!
Rosmin Elsa Mohan

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Poems On / About MIRROR