Growing up, I had often heard my father say that broken mirrors should be thrown out. After all, they bring bad luck. Which by the very laws of nature meant, I was fascinated by it.
Over the years I had heard so many superstitions, that every time I came across one, I wanted to test it out for myself. See what happenned when I invite bad luck. But somewhere beyond the rebellious nature of my age, I began to notice how beautiful a broken mirror actually was.
No two mirrors ever break the same. Some chip away at the edges. Some break, as someone had drawn a neat fault lines for the break. Some shatters. Some mirrors have jagged edges that would cut you in a second if you are not careful. Others have such clean breaks that you wouldn’t know it’s broken unless you flash light on it. People, I think, are like mirrors too in that respect. So many ways they break…
May be everyone we meet in life are just broken mirrors and we go on reflecting on to others until we find those people with whom our brokenness aligns. May be, love is about looking into another mirror and not seeing the places where either of you are broken.
I don’t believe in superstitions. But I don’t keep broken mirrors with me either. What’s the point? They don’t reflect anything anyways. I can’t discard people that easily though. Sometimes futilely I try to make room for every broken people I meet, hoping at least some of those pieces might fit to make me whole again. But no two people are broken the same way.
May be one of these days, I’ll keep a broken mirror. May be then, if I stare at my reflection, it wouldn’t show all the cracks, hollows and volcanoes I carry within me.
Amar Shobdo 