I remember when I first saw a magic show. An ordinary looking man dressed in those clothes that a magician must wear, mesmerizing [or trying to] a bunch of kids with his animated actions. I must have been six or seven. Thrilled….I was!! How a series of simple tricks opened a wonderland for me!! And I wasn’t the only one. I had a strong enough logical mind to know that they were all tricks, immense magical ones, but still…tricks. But I still trailed with the ‘choo mantar’ it did to my heart. I wished to….I wanted to.
I wonder why one grows up to start with. Why does the mind start finding out what trick brought out the pigeon from an empty hat. Can we stay with the magic? Can we see the small little magic tricks life blesses us with? Can we spare ourselves from the do’s and don’ts of the goddamn mind? Can we live a magic called life?
I have been wandering all over Bangalore city for a month now. I lived at one end and literally crossed the city twice a day. My friend blessed me with a door to door lift. They were all fun rides except the back ache they blessed me with. Once on a traffic signal I saw a toddler sitting on a bike with it’s back to the rider. [It’s one of the funniest and cutest sights I have seen. The child sees everyone going right with him but just in another direction!] I think it was a girl. She was dressed like a boy; the haircut too gave no trace of the child’s future femininity. It was just a pair of danglers in her [Oh I am sure it was a girl!!] ears and a pair of socks with frills that convinced me that she was a girl. She was looking around with her nose running constantly. She had a handkerchief pinned to her shirt, but she never found it worthy enough to do the honor of keeping her face clean. She preferred using her hands instead. She was happy with the sticky thing all over her face. I stared at her with awe. She lived for herself. [MY nose, MY hands, hello!! And…..My hanky. it’s my choice whether to use it or not!!] Suddenly she saw me staring at her. She blushed. A half hazard smile struck. Two eyes turned down, two tiny hands searched the hanky and next time the silly piece of cloth replaced the hands. I hated myself. I stole the magic in her life. A thing called ‘socially appropriate behavior’ crept in right there. And I was the sadist exposing the magician’s tricks.
Magic comes my way all the time. Do I see it? Do I welcome it? Or do I turn a blind eye and deaf ear thinking that I can’t ‘afford’ seeing or hearing it? Do I allow myself to get carried away seeing something happening to me? Or do I step back and break the spell before it touches me? Have I set categories already? This is the magic I can let myself go with. This is the magic I must keep away from. Is such a thing a magic to start with? One simple dinner, one simple ride brings the magician to my door, do I open it? Or I close it right away saying ‘it’s too late..Not the right time’??? …’
I long for the abra-ka-dabra who had once put a spell on me when I was six. I knew they were tricks and I didn’t want to see them. I lived that magic. I seek the strength in me to be weak enough to get swept off…….by this magic called ‘LIFE”
I wonder why one grows up to start with. Why does the mind start finding out what trick brought out the pigeon from an empty hat. Can we stay with the magic? Can we see the small little magic tricks life blesses us with? Can we spare ourselves from the do’s and don’ts of the goddamn mind? Can we live a magic called life?
I have been wandering all over Bangalore city for a month now. I lived at one end and literally crossed the city twice a day. My friend blessed me with a door to door lift. They were all fun rides except the back ache they blessed me with. Once on a traffic signal I saw a toddler sitting on a bike with it’s back to the rider. [It’s one of the funniest and cutest sights I have seen. The child sees everyone going right with him but just in another direction!] I think it was a girl. She was dressed like a boy; the haircut too gave no trace of the child’s future femininity. It was just a pair of danglers in her [Oh I am sure it was a girl!!] ears and a pair of socks with frills that convinced me that she was a girl. She was looking around with her nose running constantly. She had a handkerchief pinned to her shirt, but she never found it worthy enough to do the honor of keeping her face clean. She preferred using her hands instead. She was happy with the sticky thing all over her face. I stared at her with awe. She lived for herself. [MY nose, MY hands, hello!! And…..My hanky. it’s my choice whether to use it or not!!] Suddenly she saw me staring at her. She blushed. A half hazard smile struck. Two eyes turned down, two tiny hands searched the hanky and next time the silly piece of cloth replaced the hands. I hated myself. I stole the magic in her life. A thing called ‘socially appropriate behavior’ crept in right there. And I was the sadist exposing the magician’s tricks.
Magic comes my way all the time. Do I see it? Do I welcome it? Or do I turn a blind eye and deaf ear thinking that I can’t ‘afford’ seeing or hearing it? Do I allow myself to get carried away seeing something happening to me? Or do I step back and break the spell before it touches me? Have I set categories already? This is the magic I can let myself go with. This is the magic I must keep away from. Is such a thing a magic to start with? One simple dinner, one simple ride brings the magician to my door, do I open it? Or I close it right away saying ‘it’s too late..Not the right time’??? …’
I long for the abra-ka-dabra who had once put a spell on me when I was six. I knew they were tricks and I didn’t want to see them. I lived that magic. I seek the strength in me to be weak enough to get swept off…….by this magic called ‘LIFE”
