A Quote by Sonali Bendre

I come from a background where there would be one mirror above the basin that was used by everyone in the house. If you spent more than five minutes in front of the mirror, you would probably get a whack. My mother was so strict that if anyone complimented me for being pretty, she would not encourage that discussion.
I praticed making faces in the mirror and it would drive my mother crazy. She used to scare me by saying that I was going to see the devil if I kept looking in the mirror. That fascinated me even more, of course.
Back in the early '70s, when Susie and I were first married, we had a little house that we rented, and we used to have parties. People would come, and they wouldn't leave. I used to get so tired. I'd put on the Stanley Brothers, 'Songs for the Good People,' and the house would clear in five minutes. It was not liked; it was alien. It was weird.
The mother gazes at the baby in her arms, and the baby gazes at his mother's face and finds himself therein... provided that the mother is really looking at the unique, small, helpless being and not projecting her own expectations, fears, and plans for the child. In that case, the child would find not himself in his mother's face, but rather the mother's own projections. This child would remain without a mirror, and for the rest of his life would be seeking this mirror in vain.
I would mimic what I saw in Grease and Guys and Dolls in front of my mom's mirror and I would practice voices and songs. When you put me alone in a room, that's what I would do.
I shut the bathroom door and caught sight of my face in the mirror. I had no idea how quickly it was to change, to fade. If I had, I would have stared at my reflection, memorizing it. It was the last time I would look into a real mirror for more than a decade.
I used to stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I shared a bedroom - like a lot of people in my era, in my neighborhood - with my two brothers and an uncle. And I'd stand there in front of the mirror over the dresser and I would practice: meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views of Cicero, Bacon and Baba.
When I was growing up, my dad would encourage my brother and I to fail. We would be sitting at the dinner table and he would ask, 'So what did you guys fail at this week?' If we didn't have something to contribute, he would be disappointed. When I did fail at something, he'd high-five me. What I didn't realize at the time was that he was completely reframing my definition of failure at a young age. To me, failure means not trying; failure isn't the outcome. If I have to look at myself in the mirror and say, 'I didn't try that because I was scared,' that is failure.
I used to spend hours at night, downstairs, in front of the only full-length mirror in the house, standing on the table working out what I would wear to school the next day.
I would say probably not being able to do what I want to do and not being completely fulfilled and happy. I don't know how that would manifest itself in a mirror. It's just that feeling of not being satisfied with my life would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
I have very vivid memories of being a young child. My mother would create dinner as for us, and when she would bake, she would leave some dough for me. I would roll the dough into little sticks while she was cooking the apple tart of whatever. I was looking through the window of the oven and flipping the light, and then my bread would come out, and it was inedible, of course.
I used to watch all these great fat women in the audience laughing at the comic, and I would think how wonderful it would be to be that man. He was surrounded by pretty girls, he obviously got more money than anyone else, and everyone loved him.
I'm serious, Harry, don't go." But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him. That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone. And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.
The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?
I got teased and taunted about my night-shaded skin, and my one prayer to God, the miracle worker, was that I would wake up lighter-skinned. The morning would come, and I would be so excited about seeing my new skin that I would refuse to look down at myself until I was in front of a mirror because I wanted to see my fair face first.
I called my mother immediately to inform her that she was a bad parent. "I can't believe you let us watch this. We ate dinner in front of this." "Everyone watched Twin Peaks," was her response. "So, if everyone jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you do it, too?" "Don't be silly," she laughed, "of course I would, honey. There'd be no one left on the planet. It would be a very lonely place.
I had a personal experience of my mum being in comatose state in 2004. I would go to the hospital every day but would not do anything. I would just meet the doctor for five minutes who would update me about her.
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