Yes. I am one amongst the million fans of Rowling's genius series. A decade of books and 7 movies later, it could be safely said that Harry Potter is one of the world's most famous fictional characters and will remain so in time.
I believe that there is a certain ethereal quality to the Harry Potter books. No matter how far we progress in terms of technology, magic is just something else. And it possibly fascinates us because we're in awe of it; because it can hover over our heads and change everything in split seconds - forget nano seconds et al. The fact that it is a mythical phenomenon, and, as rationalists would argue, is realistically dependent only on how well one creates illusions, makes it all the more interesting. Because that's when you start thinking - what if?
I have, like many many others, imagined myself studying in Hogwarts and belting out spells and charms like an expert witch. I wasn't a child then, and when my heart feels despondent and lonely, I do imagine Dumbledore knocking on my window and asking me to come to the grand school. And snapping out of the daydream is painful, literally, for such a world continues to elude me.
But that's not what this is about. This is about the beauty of Rowling's work. I just finished reading The Deathly Hallows (the umptieth time) and as I stayed awake turning over the events of the book in my head, it occurred to me for the first time that Rowling had managed to squeeze in the history of humankind into her series.
By history, I mean emotional history. There has been a certain trajectory that humankind has followed as far as emotionality is concerned (that may not be a word, but it seems to sound right here). From violence to civilization, to the civilized violence that we experience today - though that's just one strain - humankind has evolved layers and levels of emotions, against the backdrop of varied historical encounters. And when I look at the deeply insensitive world that we live in, I realize that to teach people about the various emotional states that do exist in living beings would take forever, if not more.
Rowling has managed just the opposite. With a blasting set of characters, ranging from the lunatic to the prosaic, from the ordinary to the extraordinary, from the hero to the villain - she has, in her magical world, lent more color to human nature than we credit ourselves to possess. Call it denial, or plain lack of imagination, it's amazing how little people on the WWW or whole wide world understand human beings.
A lot of people protested with the books and films became darker and more intense - all hogwash, of course, since that is what growing up in this world entails. The idea is to recognize just how terrible the world can be, instead of filling the air with uncertainty and an uncomfortable feeling of knowing-something's-there-but-don't-know-what and shutting our eyes right when the murder of innocence occurs. And the idea is to learn how to fight all that misery and despicable crap, instead of giving in.
There's not a chapter in the book that doesn't have a message. I akin-ed Voldemort to Hitler - their collective obsession with pure blood, painful childhoods (particularly the lack of parental love), greed for power and of course, violence beyond measure or remorse.
That's when I realized that a lot of Rowling's books reflect the meta historical narratives of the world. The events aren't really simple, neither are the relationships. And that makes me think about the beauty of books - the refuge that they create, the amount they teach and most importantly, the sense of familiarity they successfully evoke in readers.
I, for one, have learnt a lot about the love, friendship and relationships from the Harry Potters. I've also learnt a lot about fear, courage, evil, kindness, comfort, loyalty and equality from the books. And, of course, about the unbreachable quality of the human spirit and its ability to shine forth when we so choose (read: the Patronus. I wonder what mine will be).
My kids will grow up on Harry Potter. For sure. And I hope the books will teach them all that it taught me, maybe more.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Notes of today - 1
It's just early afternoon, and yet the day seems to have stretched into a dream, dreamt through days and nights :). Nothing much has happened. Or maybe I'm just happy because I woke EARLY, determined to work out, et al. I realised:
1) Waking early isn't all that bad! Not that I haven't ever been in the habit. Who would believe that there was a time I couldn't sleep beyond 8 in the morning - at the max!
2) Working out is fun. And if results start showing, not only in your body but also in mind, even better.
3) Learning how to split, however, is not fun, especially when your bones are HUGE in comparison others around you. I nearly got stuck between the bed and the wall trying to stretch my muscles a.k.a Satyaki Saha (my dance teacher). It wasn't pleasant.
4) Tying up your hair while exercising is a tough task. And often threatens to throw you off balance.
So after all the heavy duty exercise, off I went to work. I take the metro everyday. And, as it is everyday, I came across a rather irritable girl, about 1/4th my size. She wore the nastiest look on her face, and quite openly declared - why do people have to take the metro - because, there wasn't place for her to sit. I think what annoyed her the most is the fact that even her tiny bum couldn't squeeze into the apparent space that must be available.
I think it's weird that I want to be atleast half as thin as her. Hence, I may be taken to Ranchi. Finally. If anyone wants to bell the whiny creature that's me :)
1) Waking early isn't all that bad! Not that I haven't ever been in the habit. Who would believe that there was a time I couldn't sleep beyond 8 in the morning - at the max!
2) Working out is fun. And if results start showing, not only in your body but also in mind, even better.
3) Learning how to split, however, is not fun, especially when your bones are HUGE in comparison others around you. I nearly got stuck between the bed and the wall trying to stretch my muscles a.k.a Satyaki Saha (my dance teacher). It wasn't pleasant.
4) Tying up your hair while exercising is a tough task. And often threatens to throw you off balance.
So after all the heavy duty exercise, off I went to work. I take the metro everyday. And, as it is everyday, I came across a rather irritable girl, about 1/4th my size. She wore the nastiest look on her face, and quite openly declared - why do people have to take the metro - because, there wasn't place for her to sit. I think what annoyed her the most is the fact that even her tiny bum couldn't squeeze into the apparent space that must be available.
I think it's weird that I want to be atleast half as thin as her. Hence, I may be taken to Ranchi. Finally. If anyone wants to bell the whiny creature that's me :)
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Newness
So I thought.. I'm going to make a new blog, flaunt a new me and write regularly. Because that's what I love right? And then, I didn't write everyday. Words would float about in my head and usually end up as FB status messages but I just wouldn't make the effort to write. Figures why my first story didn't end up getting published!
But today is different. I was glued back to TV, watching my favorite show of all times - So you think you can dance. As always, learning new things about a culture so vastly different from mine is a pleasure. In fact, I tend to store away bits and pieces of experiences in my mind - so human nature becomes just that little bit more evident to me.
Passion is something that we all hog - it's what attracts people to phenomenon/other people. Fire tends to create an aura or halo of absolute, complete awe, which people tend to revere, praise or just understand in silence. There are very few things I've seen in the world, that harness the kind of passion SYTYCD does. It's like the stage, the audience, the venues and the screen are bursting with frenetic energy; with desire, want, ambition, faith and worship so alive that you can touch it. It always brings tears to my eyes - the dancing, all that emotion, the sincerity, the hard work, patience, perseverance and sheer PASSION that people bring to the table.
I sometimes think. In India, a performer on the street will always be just that - a street performer. For him or her to even imagine a life that's full of possibilities is very nearly fatal. There are, of course, exceptions. But how does that even help that millions of other Indians out there who can't even dare to dream.
The art and technique of learning, imbibing and appreciating culture always needs money. So you can't be a classical dancer if you don't have the moolah. There were times when the maestros were born, and they ruled the roost. They lived the classical form and without many barriers. But today it's different. Mediocrity has set in so deeply amongst us, that our perception of excellence or brilliance has gone for a toss.
Here is where SYTYCD comes in my life. To just see boys and girls of all ages come and give their hearts and souls to a stage that is now synonymous to fame, stature, brilliance and most importantly, humility, is beautiful. But what is more beautiful is to see them triumph all odds to get there. Some of them learnt dancing on the street, while others danced in front of mirrors in their homes because they had nowhere to go. Some were hit by the recession, while some were kids to single parents. But it all was forgotten to live that American dream. To learn, perform and wow the world and basically lead changed lives forever.
But the change must have happened much earlier right? It must have been in their hearts, to break through the barriers because you have just one life to make it large. Just one life to live it like no one will.
We, in India, also live the American dream. Because there dreams are valued, and though one needs immense strength to nurture them, there's little chance of falling flat.
Here, we either don't know our dreams, or we don't have the courage to see them. The only dream we know of is the Bollywood dream. And that too, is ungratifying after a point - unless you count in the money. And no, shows like Dance India Dance don't come half as close to the real dancing dream. In fact, I remember watching a grand finale of one of the seasons, where the finalists were made to perform like stars perform during award functions. It was appalling. Funny how apathy, arrogance and absolute stupidity have become an indelible part of public discourse in this country.
Maybe it's time to have an Indian dream too. One that truly lets you fly.
But today is different. I was glued back to TV, watching my favorite show of all times - So you think you can dance. As always, learning new things about a culture so vastly different from mine is a pleasure. In fact, I tend to store away bits and pieces of experiences in my mind - so human nature becomes just that little bit more evident to me.
Passion is something that we all hog - it's what attracts people to phenomenon/other people. Fire tends to create an aura or halo of absolute, complete awe, which people tend to revere, praise or just understand in silence. There are very few things I've seen in the world, that harness the kind of passion SYTYCD does. It's like the stage, the audience, the venues and the screen are bursting with frenetic energy; with desire, want, ambition, faith and worship so alive that you can touch it. It always brings tears to my eyes - the dancing, all that emotion, the sincerity, the hard work, patience, perseverance and sheer PASSION that people bring to the table.
I sometimes think. In India, a performer on the street will always be just that - a street performer. For him or her to even imagine a life that's full of possibilities is very nearly fatal. There are, of course, exceptions. But how does that even help that millions of other Indians out there who can't even dare to dream.
The art and technique of learning, imbibing and appreciating culture always needs money. So you can't be a classical dancer if you don't have the moolah. There were times when the maestros were born, and they ruled the roost. They lived the classical form and without many barriers. But today it's different. Mediocrity has set in so deeply amongst us, that our perception of excellence or brilliance has gone for a toss.
Here is where SYTYCD comes in my life. To just see boys and girls of all ages come and give their hearts and souls to a stage that is now synonymous to fame, stature, brilliance and most importantly, humility, is beautiful. But what is more beautiful is to see them triumph all odds to get there. Some of them learnt dancing on the street, while others danced in front of mirrors in their homes because they had nowhere to go. Some were hit by the recession, while some were kids to single parents. But it all was forgotten to live that American dream. To learn, perform and wow the world and basically lead changed lives forever.
But the change must have happened much earlier right? It must have been in their hearts, to break through the barriers because you have just one life to make it large. Just one life to live it like no one will.
We, in India, also live the American dream. Because there dreams are valued, and though one needs immense strength to nurture them, there's little chance of falling flat.
Here, we either don't know our dreams, or we don't have the courage to see them. The only dream we know of is the Bollywood dream. And that too, is ungratifying after a point - unless you count in the money. And no, shows like Dance India Dance don't come half as close to the real dancing dream. In fact, I remember watching a grand finale of one of the seasons, where the finalists were made to perform like stars perform during award functions. It was appalling. Funny how apathy, arrogance and absolute stupidity have become an indelible part of public discourse in this country.
Maybe it's time to have an Indian dream too. One that truly lets you fly.
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