Thursday, 14 August 2014

An Oasis of Faith in the Desert of Non-believers

I was nine when the first of the series came out. And the last one saw the light of the day when I was eighteen. Most of my peers, avid readers or not, were gorging them. Yet, I was cautious. I was reluctant to jump into the bandwagon; even when those I can count upon in matters pertaining to books suggested me to read it as quickly as possible. Did I lose out on anything? Was my childhood less fascinating? Did I grow up but missed out on the magic of these books? Many might think so. But I would rather call them ‘Muggles’. Because there is no right time for magic or for that matter anything good in the world. All things great are never ephemeral: the moment is right, no matter when you do it.

And so, in my youth, when life is marred by much more mundane and realistic issues than at adolescence, I can feel again what Einstein meant by saying that logic can take us from A to B while imagination can take us everywhere. Kudos to J.K. Rowling and her wonderful books. I cannot thank her enough for making me look up and around again to see the world in a different light. A light that enables one to cross the realms of Chemistry and appreciate the ‘subtle science and exact art’ of ‘Potions’, carries one beyond the constraints of genetic cloning and be thrilled at ‘Transfiguration’ or make one awed at the perfection of the GPS also known as ‘Marauder’s map’. Yet, underneath all the charms, there runs the thread of humanity where ‘there are more important things like friendship and bravery beside books and cleverness’ and nothing can supersede the ‘ultimate magic of love’. If you have been loved like Harry, you need not fear because its warmth will shield you against all evils. And if you have loved like Snape, you can defy the darkest of evil, battle all misunderstandings and kiss the death heroically, though alone and in silence. Then there is the wise Dumbledore with a misty past- revered by all but misunderstood even by closed ones, full of wit and unwavering conviction about the goodness in every being till the last breath. Although I am no Harry, yet I am fortunate enough to have a Dumbledore in my life. It is just that his name is Suvro Sir as he belongs to a different time and different place.

The past two weeks were like a dream run from the Philosopher’s Stone to the Deathly Hallows. And what would I not give so that Harry’s scar pains again and the dream run starts all over. But all good things must come to an end and happiness is always to be measured in height than in length. And as ‘it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live’, so it is those countless readers’ turn, my turn to live, to make a child smile, to help a blind man cross the street, to pat a dog, to find beauty in the dandelions growing in the backyard, to hug our dear ones because all these mean that the love in the world just got multiplied.