Autobiography of a mirror

 Autobiography of a mirror

        Though I am hundred years old and greatly reduced in size. I am still alive and kicking. I started my life as a full-sized looking glass and today, I am just a shadow of my former self a small piece in a hair-cutting salon in Mumbai. 

        I was born in Belgium in 1883. I was made of the finest quality material and my face faithfully reflected images ( without distortion ). I stood five feet in height and three and a half feet in width and was encased in an artistically designed sliver frame. I adorned one of the dressing rooms of a Maharaja in North India for the first sixty-four years of my life. And what glorious images I reflected. Not only three generations of the royal family but also hundreds of royal personages who were guests in the house were pleased and a little puffed up to see their images in me. Like the queen in the story of the snow-white and seven little dwarfs, they must have said to themselves.

                   " Magic mirror on the wall

                     Who is the fairest of us all ?"

        My most glorious hour was when the Viceroy of India stayed in the room in which I had been kept. He would dress in the full royal dress with my help. A smile of satisfaction on his face was, indeed, a rewarding experience for me. How proud I felt then!

        Then came Independence in 1947 and my master fell on evil days. He was in a financial crisis and was obliged to sell the house in which I was kept. The buyer of the house sold me to the owner of an antique shop. I felt miserable at the thought of leaving my royal surroundings. I would rather have preferred being smashed to pieces than to be placed in a shop window and be the object of every passer-by's glance. It seems my prayers were answered; for the furniture removers accidentally dropped me while talking me downstairs. While practically all of me was smashed to pieces, only one piece was salvaged. A dealer of second had articles gave me my present shape and fixed me in a wooden frame. I changed no less than three master's, and have at last found my place in the dressing table of this hair cutting saloon. During my two years stay here I have reflected on the changing hairstyles of many men of all ages, children, young men, and old men. I am no longer looked after well. Dust and spray have made me look horrid and repulsive. I wish I could reflect like man, for then I would reflect the glory of my past.