What I think about when I’m trimming my beard?

Well, as much as Fidel Castro’s extremely adventurous tryst with the CIA has been long inspiring me, an article I read just weeks after his death states that Castro had gotten so into the heads of the CIA, they once tried to ridicule him by plotting to chop off his beard. Yes, his beard! Not once though, but multiple times. But obviously they failed, rather grandly I’d like to assume. This story, in ways in which I couldn’t explain, somehow manages to inspire me every day as I stroke my enlivened beard.


So this funny morning, when my teacher who handles my creative writings assignments, tells me this above prompt, I instinctively try to retrace the thoughts I had this morning in front of my wide and clear mirror. The same one I have been looking at, rather amusingly every morning for the past fifteen years or so. I wondered if this reflecting masterpiece recorded my transition from curious childhood to anxious adult hood. Could my mirror reflect only physical attributes the made me or did it in a way reflect my psychological qualities as well? Is the mirror transparent by nature or does it reflect itself as well?

By the time my cognitors (thought enforcers) have found solutions to all these varying issues in that short duration of time that I somehow unconsciously allot for the trimming of my beard, my hands ever so efficiently orchestrate the detailed process of removing all unwanted hair and just when I am almost nearing the end of these morning rituals, my mother’s shouts from the kitchen at certain times reminds me of how narcissist I may have become.

“You need to love yourself a little”, I yell back calmly and ask her what’s for breakfast.


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