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Reflections on conversations:1

I saw someone who looks like you. (Excitement in her voice)
Hmm. (cold response)
He spoke like you. Looks are similar. Even your voices are similar! (she poured more)
Do you know how I exactly look? Do you know how I sound?
(She was taken by this sudden philosophical looking question.)
You are mad. You can speak anything, just for the sake of anything.
(Silence, wait that conversation will be initialized, passive participation)
I am saying what I am feeling. I seek myself through what others have to say about me. I don’t recognize myself. I cannot imagine my face. I won’t be able to describe myself if someone asks me to do so. And then I am called liar.
So I plead to those who give me some signs near to my existence. I ask to carry me to my place. But no one does it.
(Now silence, not even anticipation.)
But then I am happy that I do not identify myself much. May be, by this fact, I can start each day waiting for this most happening event. I tried few masks, but sooner or later, they tried to erase my face. I don’t know what my face looks like, but I surely sense my face. After all, it is skin and it is strongly connected to my flesh. Well, the point is I threw away those masks.
But now when I try to walk with my face, and ask someone to describe it, I am often told that please throw this mask. It is very unreal.
Then what is real?
Now I have to look in mirror, but what if mirror is also wearing a mask and it is not a mirror itself. (Now she is no more at other end and he has entered the enigmatic region of soliloquy. When one talks with oneself, assuming he is talking with someone else, everything seems so convenient. )
Now he will keep on talking….. I don’t want to listen. After all, it is free world this way….

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