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Usha Raman

Selfie


Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash


Read a book

Look at yourself reading a book

Position the cover just so

To impress a passer-by with the erudition 

Of its cover.

 

I saw a photograph once

A book cover, maybe?

A woman in repose

Gazing out the window

-- of a train, maybe?

Her eyes, thoughtful

Her hand resting lightly on the open pages

As if considering what she had just read

Meditating on its meaning.

A cup of coffee, long gone cold

Sits on the pull-up table.

Maybe she’s on her way back

From a business trip

Or just on the metro from work.

She seems serious and content,

Dressed just right

-- not too much, not too little—

The sort of careless elegance

That comes with assurance.

 

Now she raises a hand

Brushes a strand of shiny grey,

Tucks it behind a silvered ear,

Lowers her eyes to the printed words.

 

I’ve never quite managed

To emerge from that picture

And finish the book.

 

 

It’s quiet in the small, dim breakfast room

When she eases herself into a spot

By the window (naturally) with a view

-- such as it is.

Painting her face in nonchalance

She orders a masala omelette

With practiced professionalism.

Then, laying down her phone (screen-side-up) and book (always, the book)

On the creaseless white of the small square table

She rises, walks a few steps

In unclicking high heels

And serves herself a bowl of fruit.

 

 

She’s the first in the boardroom

Fashionably early

Takes a spot in the middle

-- not too near, not too far—

From centres of power

And corners of dissent.

The handbag hangs comfortably on the chair;

Phone, pens, notebook

Arranged just so.

Now to sit back and wait

To be watched.

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