And I love

And I love
All of these and more.

These feet
That do not touch the ground
When seated over a chair,

This voice
Too high pitched that pierces
My own ears,

That laugh
Loud and noisy,
Unfit for normal conversations.

But I love
All of these and more.

These lips
At times that speak words
That were better not spoken,

Those hands
Breaking things into pieces
That cannot be rejoined without a scar,

This blurry eyes
That stare into the skies
Hoping to count all of the stars someday.

Yet I love
All of these and more.

This heart
Completely flawed
That still keeps on beating.

And I love
All of these and more,
All of these and more.

Reading Harry Potter at 20 something

Vantage Points

I grew up along with two cousin sisters. We started by playing house. We cooked fake dinners and served imaginary tea. Then we moved on to barbie dolls, online dress up games, art and craft (which I sucked at!). After a point it was now time for exams and school assignments (which still hasn’t left us yet!). But whenever we met, there was a time dedicated specially for Harry Potter. My sisters became Potterheads while they were quite young. I on the other hand, listened to the stories they retold. While I had never read the books and watched only a few of the films, their narration of the Hogwarts world never ceased to make me wonder.  But I never picked up the books, not even from the school library.

Enchanted by the magical world, I continued listening to the stories they told me for many years to come. Sometimes it was about the Patronus, other times about Lily Potter and then Severus Snape. It was even more fascinating to see the two of them try their level best to narrate all the interesting portions from the books and the films as young teens.

One fine day last year I picked up the books, courtesy of one of the same Potterhead sister who had just bought the entire series. The covers looked interesting with the illustrations of the famous Harry Potter with his scar. Then, I read, and read, and read.

Three books later, I can slowly understand what was it in the stories my sisters retold that enchanted me so much many years ago. It was the look in their eyes, how innocently they believed in the story and still do, the warm feeling that lingers after you finish reading each chapter and the urge to know what happens next. Now, Harry Potter references are a common thing between the three of us. The bond between us has grown stronger and special in its own way.

Here are my favorite quotes from the first book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone at the 20th year anniversary of its release.

‘You flatter me,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘Voldemort had powers I will never have.’

‘We can only guess,’ said Dumbledore. ‘We may never know.’

‘I would trust Hagrid with my life,’ said Dumbledore.

There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve foot mountain troll is one of them.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.

‘And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?’
‘Throw it away and punch him on the nose,’ Ron suggested.

To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

It takes great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.

I’d like to believe there’s a reason why I began reading Harry Potter at 20 something instead of 12, and the magic is still as strong as ever. I continue to remain awe stuck at the the world crafted by J.K. Rowling through her fine words.

With each page I turn, I marvel at the power of literature, words and stories. I smile, I hope and I dream. And I continue to write.

 

Five Years Old

What did you think of dreams
when you were five years old?
The first time you could count all
your fingers on one hand,
because thats how old you were.

Did you think about Ali baba and the treasures of gold
or the Knight that marched down the road?
Did you see the mountains that surrounded you,
one thousand years old.

What did you think of dreams back then?
Perhaps it was a parrot’s cage or a lion’s den,
or that blue inked pen
now completely broken.

Tell me my friend,
what did you think of dreams
when you were five years old?
The first time you could count all
your fingers on one hand.
Legs too short, hands too tiny
and yet dreams so bold.

Did you not want to be the hero?
A cape across your back
jumping into life straight from your bookrack,
colorful pages scribbled across,
some things that did not belong to you
like that little pink frock.

Stupid was I
when I was five years old,
unknown to the idea that papers when once fold,
draw scars over them like stories untold.

What did I think of dreams
when I was five years old?
The last story before the silence of the night,
the new shoes because the old ones got too tight.

May be I am still five years old,
even when my age does not fit into my hand, finger or toes,
and I still think of Ali baba and the treasure of gold,
the mountains that surrounded me
one thousand years old.

When I was five years old,
dreams were what I saw at nights,
when the owls opened their eyes and the cats danced,
the dogs slept and the mouse ran.

When I was five years old,
dreams were what I saw at nights,
with eyes closed
and lips tied.

Dreams were what we saw at nights,
with eyes closed
and lips tied.

Two Parallel Lines

Our minds are two parallel lines drawn from left to right,
right to left, any deviation
makes the blood under our thin skins boil.
We havent thought of the triangles, and the circles,
the rectangles and the vast sky with no lines.
Our minds have become two parallel lines, any deviation
making our blood under our thin skins boil.

The circles that make up the chains we see not,
because criminals we are each of us,
hard not to be one
to keep the lines from the minds we have,
the words we speak
and the unknown we cannot touch.

These lines creeping in our
windows and doors,
curtains and clothes,
eyes and ears,
hearts and souls.
Demons we have each of us,
to let go must look at it first,
eye to eye
word to word,
and say goodbye.

Patience it takes to convert these parallel lines
into sharp triangles, and smooth circles.
Courage it takes to look at them,
to admit their existence.
Our minds are two parallel lines,
running from left to right and right to left,
any deviation makes the blood under these thin skins boil.

Two parallel lines, thats what we’ve become,
wont you stretch a little side by side?

Think think think. About these parallel lines.