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The Two Faces

Shuchita Tripathi

With eyes shut, I smell the silvery hue
Against an engulfing darkness, a dancing phantom
The mirror? Or is it the moon?
Nervously quivering stuck lids; they won’t budge
A crawling shiver cold, a sigh absconding bold
An empty weight on heart- fear is announced.

Threatening exigency of truth!
They slid apart with a start and look
A conspiracy! Mirror…why? Oh moon why?
To ‘see’ is a daunting task and you deliberately hit with it
Compelled to see the dualites-
Smile or smirk? Good or evil? Pretension or reality?

Slithering figures disappearing into each other
Seemingly identical and yet so distinct
‘They’ cannot see but I can
The shadows belong to me and not them
The dark room, the mirror and the moon-
Amidst them ‘I’ a sinner and sufferer.

Ugh! The disgusting reflection, an overcoming impulse…
“Can’t look at it no more!”
Bam goes the fist and down goes the mirror
Shattering echo, piercing scream and throbbing heart
They blend too like the images
But I knew it then, I know it now- the difference.

Silver, black, red and silvery red
Oh! The magnificence of silvery red
Calm replaces the shiver; silence follows
Hundreds of them around me on the floor-
A loud laughter, a slow sob; a flicker of hope,
The maddening misery, secret anguish and the show of content.

Eyes brimming with moist warmth
Finally! A creeping serenity, that calm
This time a cognizance abreast ease
The false and the unfeigned
The utopian pretence and distorted reality
I recognize them; they belong to me- the two faces.


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