My days never started without wishing her properly. And I always kissed her good night after brushing my teeth, before retiring for the day.
I wouldn't have looked the way I do without her.
She was my best friend who reflected all my moods.
She was there to remind me of my pleasures. And she shared my melancholy as well.
I can never forget that date.
It was the year 1984, the month of November.
I had lost her.
Late for the early morning shift on the first day of the month, after waving her goodbye, I banged the door shut.
I realised that she wasn't with me after I returned home that evening.
“Come on! It was an accident.” I said in anguish.
I could almost hear her say that it didn't matter.
But she didn't.
“I cannot forgive myself,” I muttered listlessly under my breath.
She had been my only source of inspiration.
It was agonizing.
The days started and ended without her.
In her absence, I realised how much I missed her. She had been an integral part of my life.
Every moment I had spent with her had been important.
I understood that I was suffering the ‘have-it syndrome.’
I had taken her for granted, overlooked and neglected her.
That was my gravest error.
I suffered silently, realising that I couldn't do anything else.
It was the 22nd morning.
We had an unwritten promise.
“Don’t suffer in my absence. Don’t be crazy and for heaven's sake don't stop making friends in my absence.”
“Be selective and choosy. Just bury the past, okay?”
I remembered her echoing my words every time I shared my expressions with her.
I gathered my wits and ventured out remembering her every reflection.
I talked, touched, did every possible thing to find her replacement, who could remotely resemble her ‘look and feel.’
But she had been unique.
It was terribly difficult to find some one like her.
After more interaction I realised that I would never find her equal.
Finally I thought I found exactly what I was looking for when I stole a glance.
I felt that she could sense my feelings.
She returned the compliment.
“Come home, please,” I said.
I petted her all the way back home.
She didn't mind.
In fact I thought she rather enjoyed it.
From now on, she will share my new feelings.
In the safety of my flat, with the air-conditioner on full blast, humming under my breath, I undressed her at the precise minute advocated by my numerologist. It was November 22, 2222 hours.
I sighed happily.
“I will be very careful with you,” I said after placing her gently on the dresser and breathlessly kissed her.
As expected, she was cold. But I liked it.
I undressed before her. As I took off my shirt, I felt a piece of paper in the shirt pocket. It was the cash memo for her – the mirror.