Accursed to tell the truth

Narinder Jit Kaur

I am a mirror. I don’t have an existence of my own. It’s only when someone comes into my contact that I become alive. Here, I am hanging on a wall of a beautiful room that belongs to a young girl. We became friends when she was a toddler and the room was filled with dolls and toys. I have seen her grow. I have gone through many seasons of varied decorations. First, she would paste her simple drawing sketches and crayon paintings in all the corners of my face; then, came her favourite characters from different stories. I enjoyed when she made faces at me, with her mother’s lipstick smeared all over.

As she blossomed into a young beauty, the pictures and paintings were replaced with little red hearts and some greeting cards. She took extra care and extra time to get ready, changing dress after dress. I would be filled with new energy when she peeped into my eyes, as if asking, ‘How do I look?’ She was in love! Now I was privy to her secrets — her first crush, the gifts, flowers, love letters; her monologues in front of me, confessing her passion! She would tell me everything unabashedly. I would laugh silently and wish her the best in the world. 

I was a witness to her mood swings; her midnight dances, her sullen face, her swollen eyes betraying tears. I wanted to warn her against deceit and betrayal. But she was too rosy-eyed. 

Then suddenly she disappeared. For days, the room was desolate, and I so lonely and scared. I had a hunch that something was wrong. After about two weeks, there she was; her face covered in bandages; helped by her parents to her bed. I stood paralysed and petrified to see my companion of many years in so much pain. In the coming days, I collected information in bits and pieces. I was stunned. Such a beautiful, innocent soul didn’t deserve it. Too distressed at my inability to help her, I could feel her sobs, her unvoiced pain and penitence pierce through my heart.

The day her bandages were removed, I was badly shaken to have a glimpse of her acid-burnt face that spoke of the villainy and inequity of a friend-turned-fiend. Then came the moment I had been dreading all along. She gathered courage and decided to confront me; to look into my eyes and ask, ‘How do I look?’ I knew I wouldn’t be able to face the sarcasm, anger and agony in her voice.

‘No...no…! Please don’t come near me. Stay away!’ I felt like shouting.

How I wished I could turn into a dead wooden board; or jump down from the wall and crash myself into a thousand smithereens! I hated myself; wished I could tell lies; wished I could take her in my arms and tell her that she was still beautiful. 

But no! I am accursed to tell the truth.

There was a loud shriek and then a long silence.

Ever since, I am standing here, unseen, unused. No one comes near me. I don’t have any existence of my own.