Thus I to myself every now and then, but especially when I unexpectedly catch sight of my own reflection. Panic surges through my mind on such occasions, but I calm myself down quickly enough. “Much of your life is still ahead of you,” I remind myself. “There is a lot for you yet to do,” I cajole myself as I turn my eyes away. “At most thirty years to go,” I cheer myself up as I shuffle out of the reflection’s sight. If only I could live without mirrors large and small. Without windows and glazed doors. As well as without shiny things of all kinds, including bottles and glasses, jars, pots and pans, toasters, cars and vans…

Addendum (October 9, 2016)

“Shit,” I calm myself down when I catch sight of my own reflection as of late, “you’re only seventy!” On such occasions, panic surges through my mind to this day. “Much of your life is still ahead of you,” I remind myself. “Twenty years or so to go…” Alas, if only I could live without mirrors large and small everywhere around me! Ten years after this piece was penned, little has changed. Except for the solace that there is a lot for me yet to do. After my liberation earlier this year, there is nothing of the sort. I am done. There is nothing left for me to do. Zilch. At best, I can extend this piece with two more addenda—say, one at eighty, and another at ninety. For I will surely keep being surprised whenever I catch sight of my own reflection till my very last breath.

In memory of my mother