Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation -- Oscar Wilde

Dressed in a beautiful saree, decked in the finest jewellery, I looked expectantly at the mirror - I looked weird! My face looked bloated and disproportionate. I looked fat and short. 

It took me some time to get over the shock, and once done, I looked again at another mirror…my abnormally thin and elongated face stared back, I looked too slim and too tall!

‘But that's not me!’, I exclaimed. 

I walked across a wall of mirrors and confronted a new series of reflections, each showing a different me…I felt confused and lost.

This frightful experience got me thinking. Why did I need approval for my appearance from the mirrors? Why can't I trust myself and believe, irrespective of what the contradictory mirrors say, I LOOK GOOD. 

In spite of being powerful in her own way, the wicked stepmother called out each day, 

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s fairest of them all?’

Why did she need confirmation from her mirror?

Why do we need approval from others? Are we too high on confidence that we are sure of praises, or are we too low that we need crutches?

Whenever we need to back our thoughts or ideas we always quote a higher authority and say how it has somewhat echoed our thoughts and when contradicted we start rethinking. 

Why do we give so much importance to others’ opinions that it somehow starts manipulating our own thoughts? 

Most of the things, these days, have become artificial -  forget nails and hair,  people's behaviour too has lost its uniqueness. Trying to stand out as different has made us the most ordinary. How can we be unique if we are too influenced by someone else?

It took one Pied Piper to lead an army of rats…similarly one winner can suddenly give birth to thousands of aspiring clones, each copying and competing to one day replace the original. Hence, losing their originality in the rat race. 

Instead why don't they be inspired, and aspire to be a maverick?

Protecting or Hiding?

 

While peeling the onions I started wondering why God made them special…are they His favoured children so He is keeping them cocooned?

Or is it His way of saying we should hide our true feelings within layers of made-up emotions? Or is it how He wants us to see life…peeling each layer and finding surprises, smiles even shocks and tears?

Scientists have given findings, philosophers reasons and dreamers their fantasy…but the bottom line is each pair of eyes and brain have their own story and their own reaction. 

Isn't it the same with life? While facing similar situations we react differently, we handle it differently and each of us play a different blame game…

Not many courageous hands would come up to acknowledge the responsibility or to face the criticism. Mostly would prefer to hide under layers of excuses, lies and oh God why me-s!

Maybe realising that layers would only encourage us to be cowards, God decided we shouldn't be  physically cocooned and be bold enough to handle every challenge. 

Instead He gave us emotional layers as both weapons and shields.

The Vexing Weaver

Exasperated, I looked at my treasure of cups hanging at the window. An overactive spider had, yet again, spun a web through their handles. Being the prolific storyteller, it loves spinning tales with the produce of its spinneret. 

Winding through the hooks and handles, fueled with its grit, like a crafty matchmaker, interweaving each member with silk,  it creates a long family chain. 

A master weaver but a complete spoilsport, strewing unwanted blossoms only to add another crease to our foreheads and reach out for that sole weapon, The Broom.

Endless battles...

Lost in the maze of opinions

self doubting my own self,

Trudging through the dirt

of abuses and blames,

Trying to sanctify myself

with my own tears.

Cutting through the cobwebs

of living nightmares,

With sharp blades

of determination and purpose.

The goal seems too far fetched 

without a defined path.

Fuelled with the chants

of I have to do it and 

I can do it...

How long can I maintain the zeal?

How long can I survive the war?