Back and Forth

By Shruti Kakkar

Oh! How I obsess over my clothes...

As if it’s my work, my prayers and all my oaths!!

I keep glaring at my reflection, I smile, I frown, and I sigh,

And the mirror keeps wondering why?

The flag bearer of the truth they say,

Are the eyes of the beholder and the eyes never betray

But I dare not meet the leer of my twin across the looking glass,

She is privileged to live alone while I share my space with the mass.

Before that bold and fearless stare, catches even the slightest hint of my ignominy

I gaze back defiantly knowing I am all false and ninny!

I get back to my garment which I find so ravishing and winsome...

 This also loses all its charm at a single comment irksome!

When did this insecurity seep in? When did I become so conscious?

I believe it began with my birth and all the identity fuss!

I was stamped all over,

My identity much above me to tower…

Name, gender, colour and religion,

Caste, creed nationality and origin.

Like a lesson I learnt,

That my smile is a smirk like my father’s

My hair is silky like my mother’s

My skin is glowing like my grand mother’s

 My fingers are fat like my aunt’s, and other things like many others!!

Before I could even discover myself

My personality seemed to be bought off the shelf!

If only I had a chance to be,

My appearance crisis would just flee,

But in time I became an imprint, an inscribe, an impression, an engrave,

Borrowed from kin and kith, not a single untouched attribute to save.

But why am I questioning it now?

Why I am even bothered?

My counterpart in the mirror would relish seeing me smothered!

Reposing my mind, I return to my dress,

I find a wrinkle here or a small burn hole there,

A little wear and tear with time,

Yet in a crowd, I manage to make it shine!

I call it the make-up of my attire,

When in need do as you desire,

Do it yourself

Or there are hundreds to hire!

While I am luring myself in this shallow pool of pretention,

That disgusted lookalike is vying for my attention!

Can’t it let me splash in this baby pool of illusion?

Is it obligatory to merge with her...is it inescapable, this fusion?

Oh No! Please no!

Somebody stop this!!

My apparel is getting torn from top to bottom…

It’s in shreds, it’s in tatters,

It’s ripped up and pulled apart, bits and pieces scattered.

Alas! I have lost my identity

Alas! I have lost it all…

Beyond mending and beyond repair, this seems my final fall!

 Now I see myself on the other side of death,

And adorning me from head to toe is a brand new garb, fresh as my breath!

Already obsessed with my recent trappings,

With all my lovely pristine wrappings…

The stamps again trickling down my being,

All this has happened earlier but I don’t remember seeing..

New body, new flesh, new glow,

I am brand new from head to toe..

Another dress for my soul to wear, 

Another lifetime of pretences to bear..

Why do I keep returning in this world of pomp and show,

“Theirs is the pomp and show, who care for it more”

Came the reply from within, from myself, from my core.

By Shruti Kakkar