One day — not long after I had finished reading the book, The Reflections of Queen Snow White — I was staring at the mirror on my bedroom wall. To my surprise, either my brain wandered too deep into the world of imagination or my mirror actually spoke to me. I did not imagine a mirror to speak in a female’s voice; for some reason, I assumed the mirror to be a male. What else could explain ladies’ attraction towards it? Just kidding! Anyway, the conversation was not an ordinary exchange of pleasantries ; rather, it was an insightful discussion about so many things. You might want to grab a chair because this may be a long conversation.

Mirror: I believe you summoned me!

Me: Who summoned who? Am I hearing voices?

Mirror: You are hearing voices because voices are being made by me. [chuckles] And to answer your first question, you, Ankita, summoned me, the mirror. Now, tell me, why did you call for me?

Me: This is a first. I didn’t even sip red wine, yet, and my mirror is talking to me.

Mirror: Oh yes, you did not sip the wine, and I am talking to you. I wonder if there is any connection between wine and my presence, but let’s assume this has been a sensible piece of information. You have a tendency to do that quite often.

Me: I do not have a tendency to do anything of the sort. [annoyed with the accusation]

Mirror: So, NOW I have your attention. Can we communicate now, like normal people?

Me: We could, except, you are not a “people.”

Mirror: Quotes were not really necessary around people, but let’s move past it. You see, you imagined how would it feel like to talk to the mirror; thus, I am here. Everybody gets a wish each day; some spend it on wishing stupid stuff, like, “Oh God, I wish my hair sets in a perfect bun.” Well, you wished the company of an intellectual person, so don’t waste the entire day in the analysis of hows and whys. What do you want to talk about?

Me: I want to talk about me. May I ask, Mirror, Mirror, on the wall! Who is the fairest of them all?

Mirror: You can, and the answer is not you. So, I don’t find any sense in giving you a name. I could say any name, and you would begin obsessing about that person.

Me: I don’t obsess, and I was kidding. I do not want to know who is the fairest of them all. What would I do with that piece of information?

Mirror: You do obsess. You know that, right?

Me: Whatever do I obsess about! Pray, tell me!

Mirror: Okay! Let me see. Your obsession is not limited to only one thing or person. It has many shades. When you were a kid, you obsessed about I dream of Jeannie and Bewitched. That obsession was so huge that you believed, at times, that finally, your magical powers have awakened, and you managed to move the wall a few centimeters with only a nod of your head. Of course, that phase passed. Then, came the time of an obsession with WWE. Well, it was WWF at that time. Every fight that Chris Jericho, Stonecold, Rock, The Undertaker or Lita lost, you shed a pool of tears. If it was hygienic to drink the tears, you might have single-handedly solved the problem of the drought of many countries. Thankfully, that obsession subsided. Next came the phase that almost every girl goes through — he loves me, he loves me not, and why does that guy love me? I remember the sparkle, hope, and many dreams in your eyes during that time. Eventually, that humiliating time vanished. Now, the obsession of the internet and writing is in full swing. Hanging on your bedroom wall, I see you searching for a buried treasure in your cell phone while your husband and sister beg of you to leave the phone alone for a few moments of quality time. To top it all, you are obsessed with me. I have seen your stolen glances at me. But, that’s a shared obsession with many other ladies — even guys, for that matter — all around the world. Do you want me to enlist more?

Me: [Embarrassed] No, that would be enough for one day. You seem to have an insight into everything about me, so tell me something more.

Mirror: Let me share a secret with you. I cannot tell you anything that you don’t already know. I observe people while they are enjoying or regretting their outer appearance, and I can pierce into their soul and buried emotions. If humans could rise above the materialistic greed and physical characteristics, they would develop this skill, too. Oh, what a beautiful world that would be. Let’s take you, for instance, you get a bad hair day, and your whole confidence goes into the gutter. What has your hair to do with your wisdom and knowledge?

Me: Well, what’s wrong with looking good? When you look good, generally, people pay more attention to what you have to say.

Mirror: Not always! In fact, many good looking models have been tagged as dumb irrespective of their astounding good looks. The wisdom has nothing to do with how you look. To put the things in perspective, consider Mr. Darcy’s first impression of Elizabeth. He was not attracted towards her beauty. Even if she was having the bad hair day, he would have chosen her to marry him because she had a personality. You may argue that it’s fiction, but you are aware that many people share a lifelong bond of friendship due to the wisdom and loving nature of the person. Looks are deceptive, the soul isn’t.

Me: We can’t see a soul. Can we? [in a sarcastic tone]

Mirror: We most certainly can! I can see the soul of every person staring at me because when they look at me, I do not need to indulge them into small talks or compliment them on their looks. I can just stare deep into their eyes. As you know, eyes are the windows to the souls. I have no extra power or magic. I have the patience that gives me the power to discover the real potential, fear, and dreams of the person standing in front of me. I can see your soul, too!

Me: And what color is my soul?

Mirror: I can’t comment on the color, but yours is a restless soul. You search for something all the time. Even when you stare at me, you do not feel content with what you see. You search for a flaw. It could be a pimple, a scratch or dark circles, which are right there in plain sight. However, sometimes, you search for flaws that don’t exist. You would look at your eyes with criticism or comment on the shape of your lips. Even when things are going right, and you are happily laughing, your mind wanders into the dark places. You do not allow yourself to enjoy that moment because you believe that a change is on the horizon, and it’s better not to let happiness become a catalyst for a probable tragedy. Your happy exterior may befool others, but it cannot deceive your soul. Your mission changes every day. You are not happy with the current situation. You are searching for your center outside. This is the main flaw in the system. Your center lies inside of you. The sooner you begin searching inside you, the faster you would get to the path of peace.

Me: Fair enough! I can find happiness by living in the moment. Right?

Mirror: Precisely!

Me: How do you propose I plan for the upcoming tragedies?

Mirror: First, how do you know there is a tragedy in your future? Second, do you really think that you can plan for it? Tragedies strike in the most sneaky manner. Either you can choose to let go of every happiness in the anticipation of a tragic future or you can enjoy the moment and leave the future for the future. Choice and happiness are both yours!

Me: Strangely, this makes sense! So, can I summon you whenever I feel like knowing more about my soul?

Mirror: Thankfully, no! If you could wish for my presence at the right moment, then only you would find me. Now, don’t go wishing for only me, when you can wish world peace, elimination of poverty, and many such noble things. Is it the season of summoning a mirror? I can hear someone else calling me.

Me [laughing]: Well, it’s not so much a season. #FridayReflections has given a prompt that may have caused this worldwide craving to talk to you. Good luck with your encounter with my fellow blogger!

Mirror: Au revoir!

P.S. This post is a product of a Pensive reflection of #FridayReflections prompt:What if your mirror started talking to you? What would it say?

It is a work of fiction, and the mirror did not really talk to me.