“Don’t you dare come near the mirror again,” Sonali said, scolding Munna one more time that morning. The ceiling fan was groaning like a grumpy old man, spreading the smell of jeera tadka from the kitchen all over the 10 feet by 15 feet ‘home’.

“How many times do I have to tell you this? Stop troubling your sister! And, why do men need a mirror?” Munna’s mother admonished him, coming out with the lunch packed for the father-son duo in a well dented, shining steel tiffin.

“Oh! You started again, Kausalya. Munna, we shouldn’t be late to the glass factory.” Amar, his father, tried to steer the conversation from its obvious end. The house was now left to be ruled by Kausalya and her three girls: Swati(8), Pinky(12) and Sonali(19) – the younger ones still sleeping with their hands and legs entangled over each other’s bellies. Living with four kids and wife in the Ram Sharan Chawl in Andheri, there seemed to be only one mission on Amar’s mind, day and night, since the last month – marrying off the three daughters one by one. This meant more money for the preparations, dowry, and sacrificing Munna’s further education. ‘Why waste money to make just another peon out of him? After all, he will be earning for his own sisters,’ Kausalya had justified when Amar seemed unsure about taking him out of school.

Don’t go by the name – Munna wasn’t a boy anymore, he was 14. He loved to touch his emerging sparse moustache hair, which tickled when touched every time. For him, every day was a new revelation about the world around – and his body. The mirror, although much of it was now corroded since Kausalya’s marriage, was nowadays being guarded by Sonali. Managing to look through the dark cloudy patches on its surface was quite a skill the girls had acquired. Munna, whose hair Kausalya had to forcibly comb while in school, was now desperate for one glance in the mirror every day. The old mirror was his only hope to admire the progressing manhood – firstly, there wasn’t enough time during bath to look at his reflection in the bucket and secondly, there was only enough light to show his shadow.

Munna was an apprentice, diligently learning glass grinding. These glass would then be sent for silver coating. Working all the time under his father, Munna never got a chance to look into the polished mirrors, which were wrapped and sent off. One day, as the usual delivery tempo was in the garage for repairs, Munna had to be sent as pillion rider with the delivery guy for an urgent mirror delivery.

The mirror was firmly secured with ropes to the sides of the scooter. “Don’t let go, no matter what,” said the delivery guy asking Munna to clutch the mirror sideways. Two things were happening for the first time: it was Munna’s first scooter ride and he was so close to the mirror, although wrapped. As the ride began, Munna felt the breeze fingering through his hair. Tempted, he slowly tore off some part of the brown wrapping paper without letting the driver know.

The street looked enticing in a mirror so clean – there wasn’t a single dark patch like the mirror at home. In the auto rickshaw immediately behind them, was a couple sitting in formals. The driver’s gaze met Munna’s as he looked restless seeing the passengers get intimate in daylight. ‘This is really fun’, thought Munna tearing off another portion of the wrapper at the left corner. In a car he saw a lady, his mother’s age, lost in applying lipstick and stealing glances at the driver.

The vehicles honked on the busy street. The school children were crossing the streets with colourful ice candies all the way dripping in their hands. Seeing their lips and tongues all coloured, Munna unknowingly smacked his lips. He saw himself crossing the street in a school uniform, wearing red socks, black shining shoes, and a new school bag. He laughed at his silly imagination and tore off the top most part of the wrapping paper. As the big vehicles dispersed and the scooter took speed, the mirror was now freely showing him the rows of blossomed gulmohar trees going past. The bright blue sky in the background suddenly seemed to have lowered the sun’s blaze. The driver suddenly braked hard and the mirror was drawn back straight onto Munna’s face. Before he could see even a millimetre of his moustache, the scooter abruptly halted and the mirror was thrust out through the top end of the wrapping, which was all torn off by now. Seeing a thousand bright shattered pieces of the bright blue sky on the road, Munna could hear his mother repeat one more time, ‘Why do men need a mirror?’