Face the face
He searched for the story of expressions
In a mirror’s impressions
Counted the number of wrinkles,
Measured the depth of his dimples,
Tested the varying shades of complexion,
Zoomed in on his graying reflection,
Copied selfie smiles of twenty-somethings,
And murmured, ‘None of this stings!’
Are there twists and turns that go beyond –
Would he need a magical wand
To peer closer at every space?
He knew he wasn’t facing his real face.
He tapped here and then there
Or wherever he could really dare
Bared his teeth, examined his gums
And around this time scratched his bums
Stepped closer to look up the nostrils…
Well, all this is part of his daily drills.
Stepping back he made a few faces
He wondered if hidden in these traces
Lay the answers he was looking for
And he knew he had to get to the core
Because what he missed was that grace
That he knew once ruled his face.
‘Not today,’ he thought, ‘Today is not the day.’
And then deciding to wait for a lucky day
He went out for his daily morning walk
His phone’s radio drowned nature’s talk.
Then later he drove unbothered about lanes
His betel-dense spit not caring for stains.
The rest of his day remained smeared with misuses
And his speech duly peppered with chosen abuses!
He bounced every rule and guffawed aloud
To every law he sent a stony shroud.
And this evening too saw his daily race
To the mirror in search for grace on his face!
03 April 2017