Midnight Love...

I silently watched the family of four squish themselves onto the seat of a motorcycle meant for two. I watched as people turned their faces away at the sight of a poor woman knocking on the windows of their cars.  I watched as the old man carried the heavy bag down the road, the endless road.

Grim faces, slumped shoulders. It was 12.00 a.m. I should have been asleep and yet I found myself spiraling down, deep into an ocean of thoughts, growing extremely aware of my surroundings. 

It's been terribly long since I've read a book my eyes refuse to peel away from. My fingers frantically turn the pages of 'The Zahir' because I identify with the author down to every sentence, every word. Every page makes me stop and wonder, look around, look inside, within me what I hold, what I treasure.

12.05 a.m. I must sleep, my eyes feel heavy and my heart too. Too many words trapped within. But this wasn't the moment to let it out. 

'When will the moment be right?'

'Perhaps tomorrow, in a year's time, or never, and if that were the case, then we would have to respect that decision.'

The days seem to have frozen or rather I seem to have been frozen in a time different from now. I watch you walk upto me with love in your eyes but whose to say that's what it was. There is a thin line between love and hate and I seem to have overstepped. 

' But I will fight till the bitter end', she said. She lost. But was it really her loss if the man she loved was happy even if without her?

'All I know is that even though I can live without her, I would like to see her again, to say what I never said when we were together. I love you more than I love myself. If I could say that, then I could go on living, at peace with myself, because that love has redeemed me.'

Redemption and peace, Isn't that what we are all looking for? Paulo Coelho seems to agree.

The Language of Flowers...

There are many human emotions that I've never gone through and many that I will probably never go through. It makes it hard for me to identify with people that do, hard to put myself in their shoes, nod my head in approval or be able to find an excuse for the madness that their feeling might eventually lead to.

The most alien feeling to me is that of not belonging, of being abandoned by the very people that are the reason for your existence. Moving from one foster home to another, one dysfunctional family to another hoping to find something to prove you wrong that not all people ride on the back of the devil that evil lives alongside good that one does not exist without the other.

Good books have an impact on me that I can only try to describe. I'm sitting on my bed with cushions and teddy bears surrounding me relaxing and the next thing I find myself on the street, evicted out of my house because I'm eighteen and am expected to have money to fend  for myself. I am no longer the child looking for love, I'm now the orphan that believes in anything but love.

The Language of Flowers , a book as beautiful as its title suggests. The feeling of being homeless, unloved and socially awkward are ignited in me by this book. But the main thing that this book taught me is that words are not the only way to express your feelings. 

My heart breaks for Victoria, an orphaned adult who battles with feelings of love and misanthropy. Her silenced lost words are made up for by her love for flowers which she uses to convey her every emotion. The impact that her flowers have on people leads her to become a popular wedding florist. 

Each flower represents one word, one very powerful word that combines all your feelings into an aromatic plucked flower.

 After I was done with the book which I must say intertwines the meaning of flowers with Victoria's life and secrets beautifully I wanted to know if this dictionary was authentic. To my surprise and delight the dictionary of flowers is very much authentic and widely referred to.

So, I decided I'd substitute greeting cards with flowers. Giving greeting cards on any occasion kind of feels like a duty, without it my gift seems incomplete. Most times I don't even know or remember what was written inside the card. With flowers its different, there's a lot of thinking that goes into giving one and the message is profound and meaningful.

It's true ofcourse that flowers will eventually wither away and die compared to hardbound greeting cards but just like the aroma many people leave in our lives the meaning of these flowers and how they make their recipient feel lives on way beyond their death. 

Hawthorn, Hazel and Baby's Breath surrounded by Forget- Me- Not's just for you...

P.S. Here's the dictionary that you can use to convey your words to a loved one : Dictionary of Flowers. 

Glitter and magic convolved with blood and passion.

GlowPhoenix 7975! Finally I'm granted admission into Pottermore. Just last year everyone was scrambling to be one of the Beta users, this was when Pottermore was to be opened to a few lucky fans. I, being an ardent lover of the Harry potter series hurried to answer the riddle that would allow me to be part of this magical world. Once I was done answering it I helped my sister with it and both of us waited with bated breath for our welcome message. My sister had to probably wait for two minutes for her acceptance letter whereas my owl never arrived. Heartbroken would be an understatement to describe my plight. Muggle siblings of wizards and witches, I know exactly how it feels.

Nevertheless, Pottermore has finally opened its doors to all muggles and so begins my road to reminiscence.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the first book in the Harry potter series is by far my favorite, so going through the web chapters of this story on the Pottermore website was nothing short of a joy ride. From the shopping in Diagon Alley to my wand choosing me, the Sorting ceremony (they put me in Gryffindor), 93/4 train station and so on. The website is so excellently constructed I am actually reliving my preteen and teenage years where I would often be wandering the hallways of Hogwarts with my then crush Harry Potter. Harry Potter not Daniel Radcliffe. The undesirable no. 1 in the wizarding world was the most desirable among muggle teenage females.


Quite obviously though,  the website cannot substitute for the feeling of excitement we as  fans had waiting outside bookstores for the latest Harry Potter book or for that matter even the movies. Now all we have to make do with is the Twilight Saga, Vampire Diaries or any other blood sucking and mindless stories.

Though both the past and present obsession is with stories that are based on imagination, one is more closer to reality than the other. Harry Potter revolves around the notion of family, friendship, loyalty and how a combination of these can stand up against any dark power. On the other hand all vampire stories circle around a girl who makes an angel out of a devil man which hardly ever happens in reality, they do not really concentrate on any other human emotion besides that of love and lust.

Add to this the new phenomenal story, Fifty Shades of Grey, I'd like to call it Fifty Shades of Sadism. The story's main protagonist is a clumsy and an insecure girl who falls in love with a dangerous man with umm different desires yet a sensitive side (Hmm, I wonder where we've read this before). Author's these days in particular E.L. James have forgotten the impact of the written word. The entire plot underlines violence, demeaning of women and glorifies false hopes in big black and bold. If any woman is in such a sadomasochism relationship with the hopes of changing her man's ways, then well stop reading fifty shades of grey and vampire stories and surround yourself with self help books.


Anyway, now that my summer, long, sunny and hard semester is coming to an end I hope to stumble across a good read. Until them I'll be filling my boring moments with lots of magic.


P.S. When I called Fifty Shades of Grey a phenomenal story I was being sarcastic. Also, to excite the child inside you join www.pottermore.com. No, nobody is paying me to advertise the website. :P