Mirror: Massaging Man's Ego Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

A mirror I'm in an office rest room
To treat prides that punctured and pierced are,
Egos do I massage— bloated vacuum,
Restore back health of a swollen red star.

They pour 'pon me their woes with heavy hearts:
Take this frustrated back office junior
Trying to straighten his career's spare parts,
And dream that one day he'd shine as senior—

Stuck am I for years in this gutter grade—
The most deserving guy of all around,
But none can stop me from going ahead,
As a mirror I cannot but resound.

Brags then a guy forever a loser:
Tell me old friend, am I not every inch
A winner best of daring deals to clinch?
No heart I've to dampen this amuser.

And next: what a talk I gave, what an ace!
The delegates were floored to float in sea,
Look at my charm writ all over smart face,
No doubt I'd say; it's clear for all to see.

A trainee talked of a book his boss gave,
Wait till one day I write a better one
And get reviews from all around so rave,
And he looked for a nodding reflection.

Whew, too many egos in vain to pander,
Many a myth and boast far too bloated
Like a balloon when punctured, deflated,
There ticked a timid heart behind, too tender.

I wonder oft if I do fair duty
As mirror, not revealing true image,
But I've a heart too that feels empathy,
And learnt I've, it helps if I camouflage.
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Imaginations | 07.07.08 |