Ravings Of A Deluded Mind

By Neelima Chakraborty

A quick shake of the head.

A nervous sweat wiped off the brow.

A disenchanting voice

Drowns the choked spaces within.

'No...this is stupid. What am I doing?'

The torpedo of anxiety

Gnaw at the thread of reason,

One by one.

One step forward.

The cracked heels approach the line.

Subservient to the will of the nerves,

The breathing gets rugged and raspy.

'One small step and everything'll be alright'.

But something just feels queer inside.

Another step forward.

Fluttering fingers, self-doubt

Brush past the the cluster of acnes

Merrily mushrooming beneath the make-up.

The misshapen painted nails

Peek gingerly out of the toes,

Holding on to the dirt-

The sovenirs of the long solitary walks.

Finally the lights are switched on.

The reflection stares back.

Empty.Bloated.

The curious eyes

Ready to face

The face of the thirty-four year old.

And the scrutiny begins with alacrity-

The lips could be fuller,

Complexion lighter,

Hips larger,

Hair shinier,

Lissome figure...

Yes, that would have been perfect...

Not THIS.

But as I stare hard

I cannot help but wonder

That THAT's my identity.

Not a dreamer with an indomitable will

But The One

With thinning hair, crooked teeth, pale skin.

That's how the mirror viewed me.

I could hear the snide comments

Crawling onto my flesh,

Obscuring the scarce smiles

With mocking, jeering, patronizing cacophony,

"Do planks, eat right

Wear braces, suck in that bulging tummy..."

And all I could do was stare.

Stare at the woman that was me.

Hoping to understand

Who I was,

Could be,

Would be,

Should be.

Hiding behind the idiosyncrasy

Of my misplaced identity.

By Neelima Chakraborty