I remember the time when as an infant, I used to crawl on my knees and go so far that I would fall on the floor. My emotions were real and so was my smile. I used to giggle and cry, yawn and poop everywhere. My mother loved me so much that she slept keeping her arms wrapped around me or made me lie on her stomach. I used to play with the toys of my choice and often fell on the ground while playing. It was all me, the real me. I didn’t have to fake at all.

But as I grew up, I started observing my reflection in the mirror. I believed that I was a reflection of my mother, so how could an inanimate object show me my reflection? The perplexity of the question always gnawed me.  I used to stare for hours and hours to find out if there is even a slightest possibility to see my reflection in the mirror. But fortunately, it could not prove me wrong.

Now, that I am an adult, who is independent, taking care of my parents, doing well in my life, I realize there was one crucial  thing which was missing in my life.

It was Real Happiness.

The happiness of just being me, to be truthful to myself; the happiness that comes from motherhood were some of the things that I had never experienced. I looked in the mirror and stared at myself for a while adjusting my clothes.. I tried to smile but ruefully noticed the artifice of it.

That day, I realized, the inconsequentiality of my life. This time, the aaina defeated me. It had made me realize, that the life I am living right now is not worthy. It showed me my desire to achieve pure bliss that only comes from being true to oneself.

A question to the readers, how many times have you looked at yourself in the mirror to find the real you    instead of just polishing the physical trappings of vanity?