Diary of a Lost Wanderer: The mirror of life
It was like any other morning, quiet, beautiful and peaceful. I woke up to the incessant chirping of the sparrows near my window, seemed like they were having some discussion of their own. I rubbed my eyes to let the sleep hide within my eyelids till the evening and pushed myself off from the bed. Just like every day I drew the curtains apart and let the sunshine enter inside. I loved hugging them in the morning; the warmth they gave was unmatched for. The slight chill in the air making them more precious!
I went through the morning chores like a robot when suddenly my reflection in the mirror caught my attention. There it was – a tiny speck on my left cheek that was waving back at me. You could blame it on the yet-to-be dissolved sleep in my eyes or maybe the specks of sunshine residual in them that I couldn’t see it clearly. The more I tried to rub it the more evident it became. Finally tired of it all I dropped everything and peered closely in the mirror to see what was it and there, sitting in all glory was my first wrinkle smiling at me. My first reaction was of disbelief. How could it be! Till recently I had people telling me I don’t look my age and when I asked them to guess they always told the wrong one making me beam with pride of having hoodwinked aging. *sigh* I collapsed on the bed with my mind giving up on any attempts to think straight.
|Source: Google Images|
Unknown to me, my mind had wandered off to those lanes which till now were a taboo – the memoirs. I was staring at my childhood, where I would tip toe around the house in an attempt to look tall, wear my mom’s saree and try being like her. A teenaged me whose love affair with cooking had just began and the desire to master it all was so evident. Ah! My first heart break, how much it hurt … it felt as if the world would end and so would I. But that never happened. The world lived on and so did I. My first job which made me taste independence making me fall in love with it forever. And then all those faces clouded my memory – some known, some forgotten, some remembered, some loved, some despised, some cherished and some wanted with a deep unknown longing!
I suddenly remembered my old diary entry – Getting old is like turning ripe for a fruit. Does it have a choice? Can it say no to its creator for it has begun to like where it is right now? It is born as a seed, turns into sapling, and grows over years to become a tree, gives a fruit and now that fruit is turning ripe. It might mean it is the end of the cycle, but it also means it is the beginning of a new cycle as every ripe fruit gives birth to a seed, one that will start it all over again. Why did people despise getting old then? I smiled recollecting these words.
All throughout my life till now I kept on looking for milestones, many of which come together to make the journey of life; One that would just quietly whisper to me, “You have arrived” every time I needed this reminder. This wrinkle was a milestone that life had sent my way, telling me you have crossed one level. Now it is time to move onto the next and then the next till you reach your destination. The mirror of life was pushing me to move ahead with renewed vigour.
My smile just got a bit wider as I got up and blew a flying kiss to my newest possession before moving on to achieve yet another milestone.