REFLECTION

                                         

I stepped into a crowd that had vanished in the ominous smoke of the burning Taj.As grenades exploded inside the monument of pride, I felt my spirits dying. Crawling vehicles, beggars clawing at my taxi window, a 12 hour old sun roasting my herbal massaged back, a pilgrimage of dust in the air- this was not the Mumbai that I had dreamt of. It was a wretched foil to the wet, green honeymoon paradise. But then, the honey had been licked and the moon had waned.

The taxi grumbles through signals and jams to smoother roads with ugly menacing buildings, rising up to their fullest heights. I shudder,  I cringe, into arms that hold me tight in an embrace that assures me- I can fight, I can win.

I see her again, two weeks after her wedding. Her once sun-burnt skin has a glow that only a newly wed can have. Vermilion sits pretty in the tight parting of her hair. I stare at her and she looks at me with mellowed eyes. A golden giggle of unfamiliar bangles at her wrist, spreads a sumptuous grin on my face, she gives me a smile. I wave at her, she gives me a softer smile. Where is the hug, the fire, the energy, the rebel? I scratch my hollow cheeks- I know her, it is she. But she simply smiles, shadows of dimples dancing on her cheeks, cheeks turning plump with the glut and joblessness of marriage. There is so much to do, so much to strive for. Has she forgotten? I hold out a sturdy hand to her. Her ringed fingers, freshly out of detergent touch mine. But it won’t hold me. I look at her, puzzled, and she smiles. She will not come. I spit on her face, and she still smiles, an idiot’s smile. “You are not me”- I hiss through clenched teeth and my reflection still smiles. Huh!

02-12-08