Magic happens!

27^th March, 2015.

What is magic? By definition? By the literal interpretation? Well, basically it means an attempt to understand and exploit supernatural forces. And these days, it is just a targeted deception towards an individual or a general mass, sometimes on a stage and at times somewhere public. Illusion as we call it. Illusion to make us degenerate, sad people happy, as one guy tries to amuse us with something we do not understand. But is it only confined to those walls of words? The word magic, there is more to it than we, or us or you can possible imagine. And I might have got a fair glimpse.

So, today while returning from CR Park, I found that the old magician who seldom visits my locality was again here, with the same old Bata shoes, a saffron tunic and his tattered and torn bag. The kids in the area were, as usual, enveloped him with bright faces and quivering hearts. I know that feeling, I too am vulnerable to magic, but this isn’t about it. He made me think, is it just some tricks and sleight of hands that defines the word or is it bigger than we think it is? Because, what I have learnt in all these years, or maybe due to recent chain of events, I have developed a belief that there are certain things that have complicated definitions and cannot be just defined by preconceived parameters. There has to be other things. Took me deep retrospection and three mugs of meaningless coffee to arrive at a conclusion. And as usual, everyone is allowed to refute me and my newly formed theory, opine on it or remark about it. There is hardly any compulsion to agree staunchly on something that is being said, or rather typed on the internet. So, here goes, though I assume it might have been said before, but then, I am going through serious compulsions to write.

Magic is everywhere, and it is happening right now, simultaneously. It is happening on our computer/mobile screen while you read this and might are getting provoked in a better way to write or think. Magic happened when the kids guffawed and laughed, amazed by the old man’s bag of surprises when he produced three small balls or rubber and then turned them into one big ball and finally into a snake. Magic is when my mother smells of fresh jasmine as she comes out of the bath, drying her hairs on a towel, or when my father lights his cigarette in the rain. Magic was when your father came home and you might have jumped up on his lap just hoping that he might have bought something for you, and he did!  Magic is when we all tasted the first drop of rain and it still is magic when it rains and we (generalizing) go out and get drenched, our hearts beats faster.

Magic is the turmeric stains on your grandma’s fingers, your grandpa’s beard as white as snow. Your sister’s anger when you pull hair just to piss her off or your brother’s football playing skills.

What else?

It is there, when you look at the night sky and find stars, wondering their existence, the freshly cut grass as you walk on them bare feet. The first dried leaf as it swirls and sways down while falling from the tree, so auburn in color that it makes the tree look like as if it were on fire. Or the dark, opaque fog in the winter morning. The first rose bud on a fine spring morning and the first kala khatta in a summer afternoon. Or the winds in your hair when you stroll on the roof.

Magic is that one song that takes us in a place when we want nothing but complete solace, to be alone, overwhelmed by the lyrics, or just the way the guy is playing the guitar as if his fingers are kissing the strings. Magic lies under the crypt of Nizamuddin Auliya’s dargah when you set foot in that place.

What else?

It will be magic only when you share a cigarette with a friend, or friends, talking crass and shit about anything, from the girl who’s crossing the road or the goal that messi made last night on star sports. It will be magic when you all failed in a class test that holds 10 marks for the semester and yet you go out of the college gate and enjoy chhole bhature or hot momos, laughing and cussing your teachers, along with a serious tone that you need to work hard for atleast the passing marks. Finally passing with good numbers, leading KFC or MCd’s for treat! That is magic.

What else?

Magic is your diary (again, generalizing), the pages you wrote with the blue/black ink, the doodles on the pages, or the leaf from a tree around your locality. The nights you spent re-reading those pages, trying to figure out your own emotions or the day and the reason for the entry you made. And finally closing it as the pages are full, tucking it away somewhere and opening a new diary, fresh pages, new emotions and lots of memories.

What else?

Magic is when you kiss you love and thank god for the day, feeling complete. When she runs right into your arms or when he slightly lifts your face just to look into your eyes, keeping his and your silence held captive in a dire secrecy of something totally wonderful. Or when she cries and you do nothing but sit by her side, letting her know that you are here, in a constant vigil. It will always be the first good morning, the last goodnight and everything in between. And magic is when you will have a huge argument and then won’t talk for days and then a text message will drop, saying “hi!”, maybe a pearl of tear will be in both of your eyes, ladies and gentlemen. There will be magic.

What else?

My magic is my hope; if it is too dark and haunting my magic is the memories I have, with you. Yes, right now I am talking to you only and I know you are reading this and I am not even regretting if anyone else does read this, because it is true and not anything to be ashamed of. Right now, we are having a huge difference regarding what to feel and what not to. We are having this messed up cold war between us and there lies my magic. Hope! Yes, though sometimes I do get the feeling to kill you with one single strike of my finger, stabbing you right through the chest or breaking your cartilage in the neck, but then, I was always the psychopath you made friend with, leading to respect you, which I still do and finally falling for you, I think I am right when I say we never regretted it.

Sure, we are acting like shit and it is not our fault, I might blame the circumstances for these, and the choices I made. But I did found magic when you were here, and it is still here, everyday. Still haven’t forgotten your magic, which sits on your nose, the spot, or your gleaming eyes, or your anger when I went rude and you shouted, it was magic for me. It was magic when we talked about brida and Maria and Gibran and bailando or Seville and Prague or the story of Rashaya.

 And even it takes me to the year of 2072, I will always hope, and wait and love you, without any give reason. Never needed a reason to be like this in the first place. I just wanted to say thank you for letting me be there when you needed it, and I will, whatever it takes, I will be there always for you. I made a list, I will complete it, might as well complete it with the person I intended to! You, my dear, were, are and will be chaos to my brain. And it will be magic. Though we do not talk much these days (5 months completed on this 24^th), I will always find you in my sandcastle, right as I described your appearances. And I will wait and hope, always! I am too persistent, since I never stopped you from leaving or coming back, I won’t ask you to do anything, remember the phrase “being mine without being mine”?  I think it is enough now!

What else?

Magic will be there when you marry the person you love. The first kid you’ll have whose tiny little fingers will wrap around yours. Or the first salary cheque. Or the first vacation.

I guess I made the list pretty long, along with my own magic, hope and wait. It has been long, shall we not end this war? 

To conclude, I assume everyone have got the gist of my definition. It doesn’t needs to be something out of the world you know, not necessarily. The smallest gesture, the slightest smile, that one fleeting moment. I guess, the smallest things are largest magic, real magic, without lies, deception or illusions. The only thing is, the only catch, are you aware of these or just are letting it go? If you are, well it is not too late!

Regards.

P.s – got my old dabba camera out! I hope it works!... I need to go on a stroll, so “shove yer hands in yer pockets an’ whistle a darn good song laddie!”.