first of many

the years have gone by since the days i learnt to remember. new memories add to my mind's expanding library but my very first one has a special hold over me because it was the moment of my awakening.

this is the story of a mirror. i was about three years old, the age when the idea of a ball eluded me but i had no qualms spending an entire afternoon playing with one.

i was in my parents' room, infront of a mirror.

my right hand was on my face, covering my right eye. i was looking into the mirror. the image is supposed to be mine, but i dont feel like it is me. i switch hands; my left hand covered my left eye. it was the same boy, but it couldnt be me. i put both my hands to the side and looked once more into the mirror; the boy stood dazed, with a 1000 yard stare of a hardened war veteran. " this isnt me. who is this?" i asked myself, wondering if im the one saying these words.

from another room, my mother called out my name. " yes, ambi. thats my name. but who is that woman" i thought, looking out the door.

i knew she had to be my mother, but i didnt know if she was. i didnt know who i was. i felt like a stranger in my own body. i felt like i was a prisoner in the body of a three year old.

as these thoughts raced in my mind, i turned around and saw a red ball. my playmate for the afternoon. the crisis passed and all was good with the world. my mother was my mother, i was myself and more importantly, the ball was with me.