Through your eyes...
He stood in front of the mirror,
a kid of 10.
Though the image is a blur today,
he recalls it was very clear back then.
At end of every next year that image would change,
yet he could so clearly identify it having a strong past resemblance.
I knew that kid,
growing and blooming every year.
The image was transforming,
but the satisfaction of evolution both pleasing and queer.
He knew its strengths,
and worked meticulously at overcoming the weaknesses.
That image, I tell you,
was the kid stepping into adulthood all fresh and new.
That image looked happy,
but you may say that's subjective!
Then let's try to do it your way,
let's be a little more objective.
I'll list it out to you just the way you find it right,
no abstractness, no metaphors and no literary might.
That image was raw,
developing to be sharpened at edges.
There was innocence in its eyes,
with a loving heart and a curious mind.
The kid was confident, the image was clear and bright,
little did he know that the accused will be his naive eyesight.
The kid was growing and had so many goals in line,
until the image met you and its clarity started to gradually decline.
You always had suggestions,
poor kid had his first experience.
Until then, the image was his sole creation,
but you told him to make a few modifications.
He twisted and turned, bent and stretched,
The image kept on changing forms until nothing was left the same.
He got tired and begged to stop taking his test,
reasoned out his interpretation but could not successfully negotiate.
You were done, didn't want to put efforts in vain,
and so you left but the new image started recognising pain.
Do not think I blame you,
Oh of course not!
After all the kid was an amateur,
your specification of finer details was beyond his calibre.
Though the kid decided to give the image a rest,
your words continued to echo in the emptiness of his brain.
To be approved of your recommendations,
he started seeking so many external validations.
Showed them the image,
reasoned out their ever changing fickle conclusions.
One after another you kept on appearing in so many faces,
everytime a new persona yet the same suggestive glance.
He kept tormenting the image,
trying to change moulds after moulds.
Some were too big to fill,
others too small to allow him breathe!
The kid just wished to build a clear image that could be seen by all,
I wish someone would have told him, no pair of eyes could be same after all.
He is standing in front of the mirror again,
but the image is now a blur bearing no past resemblance.
He tries so hard, yet cannot again see it that clear and bright,
this time I hear someone telling him, maybe there's a problem with his own eyesight!