'Hey you! 32!'
I woke up that morning,
After an insomniac night,
Today's paper was yellow,
Thirty Two years old, and
Front page, right column,
Spoke of Missing Persons.
There were none but one-
Male, 32, Wheatish, 5'10"
Northerly hair line, unruly
Outgrown French beard,
Curly entangled ponytail.
Last seen on a bridge,
Writing all by himself.
Pair of faded blue jeans,
Brown khadi kurta, with
Tired rolled up sleeves.
As I bemusedly read,
I'd been walking dazed
Reaching unintended
To the wall where
That mirror hung.
From the paper,
I looked up,
From the mirror,
He looked back.
A post-it on the mirror
Unbeknownst who put it,
With a reedy scrawl said-
'Hey you! 32!'
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*Wrote this when I turned 32. It was a tough time for me-health, broken heart, joblessness, strained finances, insomnia, tense with the family, busy close friends and desperate loneliness. It was a constant flux within me into which I was sucked in and had lost myself, gone 'missing'.
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