Real Illusions
”You’re strong”.
“What?” I must have mis-heard.
“You’re quite strong”.
This is definitely a mistake.
“Are you sure? This is the first time anyone’s ever called me strong! Why do you say that?”
”Most ladies can’t even lift the bar – you were able to pull it all the way!”
I don’t know what to say – I am rendered speechless.
It’s like living in a fun-fair world of mirrors. I move a bit - I see myself as tall and thin and stretched. Tense and stressed. Mournful and gloomy. I shift around - I see myself as fat and round. Laughing and jolly. I have to agree with Walt Whitman – indeed, I contain multitudes.
It’s just that when you’ve made yourself comfortable with all the mirrors in the room, and have had fun standing in front of each them, and think you know it all, the authorities that be decide to install a new mirror. So what if it’s just for a day, or even a minute? And suddenly you see a whole new image, a whole new you. Your instant reaction is to reject it outright. What nonsense – I can’t be like this! But it stays with you, that momentary reflection, that instant of light meeting glass, and you wonder…is that my truth - the real me? Have I’ve been living with illusions all along?
“You’re in software, and you work from home?”
“Umm…yeah”.
“Wow! You must have excellent PR!”
I mumble sheepishly, but I’d love to have that mirror stay on – suddenly, I wish it were true.
Yesterday, I rearranged a little mirror myself.
”First time you are donating blood?”
”Yes”
A few minutes later, I’m incredulous.
“That’s it? 350 ml so quickly?”
Yes, a mirror that had once shown me as anaemic, now shows me full-blooded.
Can you makeover your soul? Can you strip the makeup and the costumes, expose your nakedness, and rearrange the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to make a new picture? I wonder, as I look upon my reflections mocking my innermost thoughts. And I remember a verse…
nainam chindanti shastrani
nainam dahati pavakah
na cainam kledayanty apo
na sosayati marutah
Is “Who am I?” the same as “What am I?”
(Verse Translation: The soul can never be cut to pieces by any weapon, nor burned by fire, nor moistened by water, nor withered by the wind.)
“What?” I must have mis-heard.
“You’re quite strong”.
This is definitely a mistake.
“Are you sure? This is the first time anyone’s ever called me strong! Why do you say that?”
”Most ladies can’t even lift the bar – you were able to pull it all the way!”
I don’t know what to say – I am rendered speechless.
It’s like living in a fun-fair world of mirrors. I move a bit - I see myself as tall and thin and stretched. Tense and stressed. Mournful and gloomy. I shift around - I see myself as fat and round. Laughing and jolly. I have to agree with Walt Whitman – indeed, I contain multitudes.
It’s just that when you’ve made yourself comfortable with all the mirrors in the room, and have had fun standing in front of each them, and think you know it all, the authorities that be decide to install a new mirror. So what if it’s just for a day, or even a minute? And suddenly you see a whole new image, a whole new you. Your instant reaction is to reject it outright. What nonsense – I can’t be like this! But it stays with you, that momentary reflection, that instant of light meeting glass, and you wonder…is that my truth - the real me? Have I’ve been living with illusions all along?
“You’re in software, and you work from home?”
“Umm…yeah”.
“Wow! You must have excellent PR!”
I mumble sheepishly, but I’d love to have that mirror stay on – suddenly, I wish it were true.
Yesterday, I rearranged a little mirror myself.
”First time you are donating blood?”
”Yes”
A few minutes later, I’m incredulous.
“That’s it? 350 ml so quickly?”
Yes, a mirror that had once shown me as anaemic, now shows me full-blooded.
Can you makeover your soul? Can you strip the makeup and the costumes, expose your nakedness, and rearrange the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to make a new picture? I wonder, as I look upon my reflections mocking my innermost thoughts. And I remember a verse…
nainam chindanti shastrani
nainam dahati pavakah
na cainam kledayanty apo
na sosayati marutah
Is “Who am I?” the same as “What am I?”
(Verse Translation: The soul can never be cut to pieces by any weapon, nor burned by fire, nor moistened by water, nor withered by the wind.)
posted by thoughtraker at 1:31 AM
5 Comments:
err...once u strip, what if there is nothing more than the costume?? :-))
nice analogy...nice story ano...:-)
I think we're all multiple personalities, ano.....just that the mirrors in us reflect different lights at different points of times....infact, I've started wondering now...is there anything like the 'real me'??....if you let a light reflect from you, you already give consent to that light to be a part of you, nahin? so...maybe we're all nothing...just a myriad of polished/unpolished mirrors :)
enig!
a1,
this is eerie. I posted a blog on my own multitudes and saw this :)
Really nice blog...
"Can you makeover your soul? Can you strip the makeup and the costumes, expose your nakedness, and rearrange the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to make a new picture? "
really nice lines :)
I always get symied by what people think of me - often its not what I think that they think of me. There's a lot of mirror rearranging that I do myself and often its futile, but often you look at youself in a new way, almost as though you're looking at a stranger. But as long as those reflections are encouraging, bright and catch more light than I would have myself believe, it's nice :)
Anaz
Its a phase,everymoment we live is over the next sec.mirrors r the true reflections of what we feel at times,sometimes strong,shallow or weak,hurt,selfish or smiling,hmm,life is full of those faces of ours.
goodone ano,liked the verse "nainam shastrani..." heard it longback.
well, what can i say - agree with all of u!
btw anaz, ur much better at this than me...
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