Explaining Magic

The feeling of happening to have chanced upon something magical is inexplicable. Nonetheless, I will try.

Lorde has announced her new album. The single is out, it isn’t speculation, this is actually happening. I feel an excitement that makes me want to thank the heavens for her existence.

The weather has cleared up just in time for India’s batting. The moisture will make it hard for the opposite team to field well. It’s heartening to know that we have a better chance at a victory. Rains are only welcome when they strategically increase Indian cricket teams chances at winning.

The DJ has somehow read your mind and played “Beedi Jalayile” after she played the latest item number because she knows that people like me are suddenly craving the original dance banger and want to do the hook step that we learnt in 8th grade and haven’t had the chance to whip out. It doesn’t make me feel old, it makes me feel like I was present when history was made.

My sister has been bugging me to read a book. She is sure that I will love it and can’t wait for me to read it and dissect the storyline with her. She is excited for me to reach the point where the entire plot is shook and the twist of the century takes place. It makes me tear up, internally. She is younger and was handed down without much ceremony my favourite books to savour. She once asked me when she’ll get her letter from Hogwarts. I was instrumental in her evolution from reading what I recommended to her picking out titles that she recommends me.

The first time when I got a tattoo, at 21, I realised the gravity of being older. I wasn’t the kid who was watching L.A Ink and gushing at Kat Von D’s tattooing prowess. No. I had decided to get a tattoo and I was at a tattoo parlour, discussing a design I wanted to permanently engrave on my body. It couldn’t be stopped. It couldn’t be helped. The gravity of adulthood isn’t independence and freedom but the possibility of regrettable decisions actually being taken. I don’t regret the tattoo but there are other things that I regret. My parents didn’t tell me that I couldn’t, I didn’t have to ask for permission and I had the flickering pride of a grown up. I felt a power that demanded too much responsibility.

It was all magic. The kind that buzzes in your forearms and tingles your toes. These were minute epiphanies that transformed my world view. Isn’t that the magic we see in movies? A swish of a wand with an un-understandable incantation and suddenly something changes.

I wish the magic of life was acknowledged as it is. Even the magic which causes tragedy or the magic of tragedies. It’s not beautiful but it’s magic all the way. Darker.

I think what I’m saying is, magic is change.