Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Who is the devil amongst us all?

Part I.I

A deafening silence,
Softened by a crackling stereo,
Chirping crickets.
Brewing tea and thirsty men,
Resolute gazes through hushed whispers.

The phone, a lifeless mass of metal,
On a sweaty and trembling palm.
An indestructible wall, now towering high,
The wall of isolation,
Hiding the entirety of the world behind it.

Fear, a curtain of darkness.
Thoughts get swallowed, confusion envelops.
The quicksand of fear traps the heart,
Breaths now quickened and ragged.
Feet scramble, hope evanesces.

A blinding yellow giant,
Looms into blurred vision.
A flood of light and relief spreads.
Sharp motor noises pierce the silence,
The auto screeches to halt.

Bloodshot eyes, tattered khaki.
A cluster of dense chest hair,
Peeks through mismatched buttons.
Heart and handbag, grips tightened.
Words exchanged, decisions made.

Part I.II

A trembling hand clutches the iron,
Another of the million I have seen.
A dance of glances, guilty or curious.
I am now a veteran of these mind games.
Silently, I watch the game unfold.

The girl eyes the world with the corner of her eyes,
And the eyes are now on me.
But he set his gaze on me first, rather her.
For now the gazes are locked, one bloodshot, one fearful.

A fearful flinch,
And a flush of embarrassment and rue.
Oh my, who is the victim this time?
Time will tell us, as always
And I watch them, for so will I.

The auto stops,
As do their heartbeats.
Quivering voices mumble words unheeded.
Accusations shot within minds, sharp as a spear.
A silent battle of blame begins.

A construction site, he claims.
A trap, her darting gaze insists.
Both glances are but vulnerable now.
She trembles in fear and helplessness,
Feet shuffle, she wishes to sprint away into the darkness.

Two gazes locked: one bloodshot, and the other fearful. Illustration by Navilan akilan

Part II

Heavy bags of sleeplessness,
Pits of darkness, exhaustion.
Eyes ablaze, yet moist.
The road, a twisted tunnel of confusion.
Afar was a silhouette, or was it an illusion to a jaded eye?

One ride, the children's supper.
Today, they could eat.
A stretch of tar away,
Was the glint in their eyes.
The motors growled louder.

A bang, a stifled cry of pain and suddenness, each time.
Road cussed under the breath.
A look of concern and apology,
Intention misinterpreted, now one of sin,
The only witness, his conscience.

Soft hymns heard,
A quivering voice of desperation.
Fate, a vicious trickster.
Ahead lies, a detour.
A construction site, eerie in the shadows of moonlight.

A little world built, an eon of struggle.
Morsels of rice and hope, stuck together.
Protests go unspoken.
Explanations left unheeded.
One word of plaint, a world shattered to doom.

People in the mirror may not be what they seem. Illustration by Navilan akilan

Part III

The world is too cautious to listen,
For it has seen enough.
But the world has two sides, one unseen.
Truth, hidden by prejudice.
Words shadowed by the foreseen end.

Desperation strangles,
Two hearts struggle.
What must be done now?
A question left unanswered,
For only time can answer.

I have seen everything transpire,
I have watched everyone ever,
Shift uncomfortably on these threadbare seats
With trepidation and impatience.
Yet, none of them see me.

We, the society, are quick to jump to conclusions. A few flags of purported danger is all that it takes for us to clamber up the ladder of apprehension and fear, without pausing even once to lift and see beyond those very “signals” of danger.

Because, only if we do so will we observe the taut threads to which certain desperate lives cling; the taut threads we risk burning with our silent gazes of mistrust.

This poem was penned in collaboration with Monisha.