Just before I leave,
I take a passing look at the mirror
To see how the world will see me today.
I primp up a bit,
And make one last attempt to set myself right,
Whenever I see a glass window or the like.
So I adjust my glasses,
And swipe those little strands behind my ears,
And off my forehead.
While in the car,
It vexes me how the wind disturbs my hair,
And the speed-breakers loosen my hairtie, with a sudden jerk.
But I keep a straight face,
As though indifferent
To the furious ruffling of my hair.
And as I get off the car,
Visibly conscious, I set my shoulders straight,
With my bag on one shoulder, and a book in one hand.
Should I look up,
Or should I look down,
As I walk the long passage to my destination?
Finally I reach,
And spot a friend or two,
With whom I’ll spend my usual day.
And all of a sudden,
It doesn’t bother me when my hair loosen up,
As I throw my head back and laugh,
Or how those little strands
Make their way again to my forehead,
As I am lost in thought.
It does not bother me how I walk,
When I am with a friend, taking rounds,
Lost in a gossip.
And it no longer bothers me,
About how I look,
When I smile, remembering the silly jokes I laughed at.
The little bit of primp seems almost useless,
As nothing bothers me
When with a friend.