How Am I Young?

People ask me about my charm, just dark things lure me now. My beauty is fading out and my regrets are more than a grandfather and yet I am young. My personality has got down, my time does not feel flowing, just the stillness with no noise and still how am I young!

As I write now, I see myself in the mirror, I see the time given to me is timing up, I am running out of time and there will be soon an end. I stop writing and walk towards the mirror. I try to touch my reflection, try to console a female heart. I see my sad, shrunken eyes, brown in color, half closed and half filled with tears. Looking my face, the skin pored and not taken care of. My dusky complexion looks like having faced more sunsets than the evening sky. Just like variations of tones in the sky. My hands trembling to touch me in the right spot of my reflection. My lips quiver as a tear run across my cheeks onto my undone dress. The warmth of my heavy sighs fogs my view. I see my diary and my pen on the bed through the mirror. I don’t feel any one around, anything living but all those stills in the mirror which has more life than me. I move backwards and see this figure, an unmoved, broken but not broken self-structure. I try to look young, widen my lips and open my eyes, I fail miserably. I let down even self. The lips cracks more and eyes cries in a moment. Legs starts to tremble and I fall onto the floor.

That day I felt something very unusual. I am not old yet but I could not see anything that resembled my youth. I remember my later discoveries after I fell. In some time, suddenly the current was out and a white straight light from outside seeped into the window cracks. Everything inside was black and different other shades of grey. My reflection faded into a feeble dark figure. It was dark, silent and somehow complete. I sighed. I saw my hair, I had let it drop loose on my shoulder. I did little efforts to make me look younger but nothing worked. I kept my eyes into the mirror, deeper into my eyes. What do they want to see? And then a mere flashback comes to my mind. I am little and in front of the mirror. I could see my mother’s frowned face warning me not to tease my elder sister as gets ready in front of the same mirror. I am ignoring her and was being playful and smiling. My sister had this disgusted look on her face for I had spoil her hardships on wearing that golden beautiful sari. Though she looked beautiful I had the right to poke her around. I could see the whole scenario from the mirror. My father adoring our open smile, frowned and disgusted expressions of his ladies. He stays out of the scene but still in the mirror. Then I got lost again. I am back to myself. Still lamenting, not disguised and not young.

I struggled to get back into my visions where I saw myself smiling and reviving the whole place up. I could not make it work, I cannot go back into time. So I tried to go the places where I had not gone. Closing my eyes, I saw a girl sitting on stairs, looking to the fields, a cow or two grazing. Green below and blue above. So clear a day and such contrasts in the colors were overwhelming. Or to a ground which gave birth to sleek tall trees which once was fantasized with some young boy. And even the house near the sea where I lurked around the shore.

In some seconds, everything came in and went out. Such a fast pace, I could only feel partial visions. Time was up and I was back to see myself fallen, unmoved, terrified and again not young.