.... and I Will Be Flying On a Broomstick

I love you like a snowstorm. Passionate and encompassing. A force of nature of reckon with, fierce and unapologetic.   I love you like the falling leaves. Silently and unassuming. Why must one be afraid of falling, as long as the autumn breeze promises to be gentle?   I love you like the blossoming flowers. Proudly and bravely. Let the world see that love never loses its colors, even when the sky above turns grey with April showers.   I love you like the falling raindrops. Soothing and unrelenting. Come listen to their rhythm on the tin roof above, and let us leave the weight of the world on the doorstep.

           The summer I turned 12, my mother took me to the pool for swimming lessons. On the third week, while I was kicking my legs and trying to stay afloat, my instructor picked me up and suddenly threw me into the middle of the pool. I swallowed a lungful of water and discovered for myself that fear indeed tasted bitter. That day, I told my mother I wasn’t going back to the pool. I was half-expecting her to march up to the instructor and blame him for trying to drown her daughter. But to my indignant cries of “I could’ve drowned!” my mother just smiled and said, “That’s how you learn to swim, sweetie.” The next day, she took me back to the swimming pool and I went back to kicking my legs in water.             Many years later, in the summers that followed, I came to realize that it was not only my instructor who liked to catch me unawares and throw me into the deep end. Life also had a habit of doing that. At times, when I am focusing on kicking my legs and trying to breathe abo

1. She turned around and looked at me with those big round eyes. There were loud cheers and music playing in the background. And as if she was letting me in on a well-kept secret, she whispered, “I’m nervous.” I reached for her small clammy hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You’re gonna be just fine. Don’t worry. Just do your best, OK?” It seemed to work. She smiled and nodded, “OK.” Not soon after, the MC was calling out her name. Later, when she finished playing the last note on the piano, she turned around and looked at me with those same big round eyes. They were sparkling. There were loud cheers and applause in the background. And as if it were a secret only she and I knew, I whispered, “See, you can do it.” She gave me a dazzling smile and hugged me so tight. It was a short moment. But that short moment made me think of several things. Words of encouragement plant seeds of confidence in fragile hearts. We all need someone who will believe i

            Magic of the first kind involves optical illusions, card tricks and white doves flying out of sleeves. Magic of the second kind deals with levitating spells, polyjuice potions and wizards flying around on broomsticks.             But did you know about magic of the third kind?             It’s in the nuances of the weather. You can feel it in the air as you cycle through familiar streets on a fine summer day. And maybe, you kind of get why happiness is associated with warm sunshine and blue skies. You can feel it as you stand at the bus-stop trying to catch rain-drops with your hand. And maybe, you kind of wonder why rainy days bring up past memories and leave a dull pain in your chest. You can feel it as you watch the first snowflakes fall from the night sky. And maybe, you kind of marvel at the way snowflakes never fail to make you giddy with joy and anticipation.               It’s in the way your heart seems to defy the law of gravity. Sometimes, it sinks with reg