The photograph bunting.

I like decorating my house. More of a DIY thing really. You know, origami stuff, handmade lamps, quilted art and stuff like that… you get it right?

The newest thing I did around the house was to get some family photographs printed and clip them on a string like a bunting. I tied this photograph bunting across the living room window. Just below the fabric bunting I had made and hung some time ago. (Show off alert!) Well, this photograph bunting soon became my most favourite spot around the house. Not just mine, I think it became SSM’s favourite spot too.

These photographs were a reminder of various moments when we were at our happiest. The smiles showed. Each of them had a memory stuck to it. A memory that SSM, Ri and I visited every time we looked at them. Memories that made us smile. Memories that made us forget our present distress.

I got onto the habit of staring at them once every day. But with time, I realised that these photographs looked slightly different every time... So slight was the difference that it could well have been a fragment of my imagination. But I did feel that the smiles and the twinkles in the eye were, maybe, just maybe, minutely less on certain days that others.

And then I realised what it was… the photographs, the memories, the us in our happy past, were actually looking back at us, at our present, our todays. Yes. They, I mean us, trapped in those glossy sheets of paper were actually watching us too. Their happy smiles seemed alive on the days we were happy. On other days, when our days were not too good, our smiles in the photographs somewhere did not reach our eyes. They seemed a little faded, I thought.

It did cross my mind to mention this to SSM, but then I thought against it. I don’t know if he noticed it too, but I did see him glance at the photographs from the corner of his eyes, time to time. When we were in the midst of a conversation or when he was playing candy crush on his phone while I sat with a book.

Well, as days passed, I became totally convinced that the photographs were, well, alive. They looked like regular happy photographs to anyone else who saw them, but when you looked at them every day, you would not miss the miniscule changes in the expressions of our impressions on those photographs.

Life had definitely become stressful and we were really looking forward to a holiday we had planned as soon as Ri finishes the session at school. The stress was building up and the photographs were slowly fading.

Finally, the day for the holiday was here. We were happy and excited after a real long time. And weirdly (may be not) the photographs seems less faded today. We locked up and left the home for a week of serene bliss. And we had a wonderful time. We were happy as can be after a long, long time. It was truly a much needed break. We got back home happier and with more joyful memories.

I did not notice the photograph bunting that evening. But the next morning when we sat for our breakfast, I saw that the photographs had all curled. Really. They were curled and bent. They looked very dull too. I pointed it out to SSM who said that they had probably curled up because of the heat in the city. We agreed that we need to get fresh prints and redo the bunting sometime next weekend.

Two days have passed since then. We have been happy, laughing and basking in the thoughts of the wonderful holiday we just had. We have been having a really good time at home enjoying movies and ice creams.

Today morning was quiet. SSM left for office and Ri is busy reading Chamber of Secrets. I sat at the table and glanced at the photograph bunting. The photographs have gone all straight and stiff again. Not just that, they are not dull anymore. They are as good as new. I called SSM to check if he managed to get new prints and missed telling me. He hadn’t. I go stand in front of the bunting. The smiles are all happy and bright. There is a twinkle in our eyes in there.

Did I imagine it or did the me in that photo just wink?

Owls can only mean one thing

SSM and I standing at the window.

SSM: Did you see those?

Me: What? Those birds?

SSM: Yeah, those white birds... You know what they were?

Me: Owls, I think.

SSM: Hmm. White owls. You know what the means, right?

Me: Yep. Some kid has turned 11 today...

SSM silent.

Why I wasn't blogging.

The image was googled

I know. I haven’t been blogging much. And that is because… okay, so it is a weird sort of a thing that happened. Let me tell you about it in detail.

I was walking around the block one evening when I came across a small diversion that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Curious, I took to the lane and it reached a wall. So a blind lane it was. I turned around to get back to my usual path but it wasn’t there. No. Seriously. It just wasn’t there. I just hit a wall again.

Well, obviously, I panicked. I started shouting for help. HELP! But my voice just echoed in the blocked lane. I frantically started looking around for something. Something. I do not know what. Anything, like stones or waste coke cans that I could throw over the wall and get help, or some explosives that could bring the wall down, or a packet of chips because I was hungry. Well anything could have helped, but there was nothing.

I sat down exasperated. I wished I had carried my mobile phone so that I could call someone, or play ‘two dot’ (My current favourite game) but iguess i just had to wait. After what seemed like hours, I finally heard a slight swishing sound. I couldn’t figure out what it was. I could only hope it wasn’t cockroaches. Katasaridaphobia. Any other creature would have been fine. Luckily, it was another creature.

I realised that the swishing wasn’t coming in from ‘my’ lane. Nope. It was somewhere far away, up in the sky. Initially, I noticed a tiny speck. But as it flew closer, I was sure, it was IT. It. Was. A. Hippogriff. Seriously! No kidding.

It landed in ‘my’ lane and before I could understand I was tossed up in the air and I landed with a thud on its back. I clung on for dear life as it flew away with me.

The flight on the hippogriff was AMAZING. It’s one experience that will stay with me forever. Anyway, we flew over oceans and mountains and lands unheard of. (Mainly because I suck at geography. I am sure, you smart guys, would have heard of them.) And we finally reached what seemed to be a castle.

And I was excited because I thought I would be expected to slay dragons and save the handsome prince, but no, that happened only in fairy tales, apparently.

So I was dropped off, literally, at the gates of the castle and then escorted by men in helmets, not bike helmets, stupid, but the Viking kind of helmets. They took me to the guy, who I guessed was the king because they all bowed down to him. I bowed down too because that seemed appropriate.

He then said in a loud booming voice, “Me, the great Gaster Nomos, the lord of the Culinary, have heard from the messengers far and wide, that you, lady, can bake the best caramel, bread pudding ever created. I. NEED. TO. TASTE. IT.”

And that was it! I was guided to the kitchen that was as large as the Kolkata maidan and I had to start baking the pudding. It was ceremonious as music played and people danced around while I was baking it. I then plated it in a gold plate to serve it to Mr. Nomos. I stood there, tensed, hungry butterflies fluttering in my stomach, as I saw him scoop a bite and place it in his mouth. The music stopped, everyone around was quiet. Even the pins refused to drop, lest they might be heard. My heart stopped beating as he closed his eyes, tasted the pudding and then swallowed it down. He then opened his eyes and laughed. A loud wealthy laugh it was. And with him everyone present started laughing too. He called me over and held me warmly in his arms. The music started… the people danced… there was happiness everywhere.

The next day was spent teaching the chefs the recipe. And the next few day I had a holiday of a lifetime in the most beautiful land ever. I was then flown back on the hippogriff. It was kind to me during our return flight. And well, here I am. Blogging again.

And yeah, I wish all of that was true and laziness was not the only reason for me not blogging. But laziness is what it was. And the damn laziness was so bad that I did not even write a birthday post yesterday. I would kick myself in the butt if I was fit enough to do so.

So well, belated birthday wishes to me. This year will see more fun posts here on my blog. Promise.

Also one thing in the story up there was true. I do make the best caramel, bread pudding in the world. :D

See you soon.

The unforgivable curse

Source: 

typographyserved.com

He walked out of the famous tea shop in Dakshinapan holding the packet of his wife's favourite tea. He thought he saw someone familiar as he walked out. He stopped and turned around. Yes, it was K. He enjoyed K's acquaintance. He liked K. K hadn't noticed him yet, but he knew K would be happy to see him. He smiled and stepped forward to call out to K. But then, then he stopped. He paused, he frowned, and then he turned and walked away.

And somewhere far away, in a city that was taken over by dementors, a dark wizard smiled. His Imperius curse had worked. He could control the lives of his followers. He could break them, he could mould their minds, he could keep them away from the ones whom they liked.

The rising, again.

This is a picture of my diary and not related to this post. I just wanted to flaunt it.

I was on my way back from work that day. I had almost reached home when SSM called me and asked me to wait since he was just around the corner.

I am glad he did that, otherwise I would have missed the most spectacular moment/vision of my life.

I was standing there and my eyes fell on some trash lying in a corner for the street. There was this plastic bag and suddenly it began to move. I knew what it was. I started recording it. Here is the video. Do watch it before you proceed.

Suddenly I realised that SSM was standing right behind me and I stopped recording. He was giving me a very weird look. (sometimes I really do not understand the looks he gives.)

SSM: Tell me, please, tell me that you have an extremely valid reason for video recording a pile of trash...

Me: That is no pile of trash... That's... That is the Dark Lord rising... again.

SSM: (taking a deep breath) You need to explain. You have been standing here recording trash, people have been stopping and staring trying to figure out what you are doing. Are you crazy?

Me: (taking a deep breath too) Did you not notice that plastic packet move? The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort is rising again!

SSM: There is nothing moving there! Look! Nothing!

Me: Well, obviously it wouldn't move for you, you muggle!

SSM: Youv'e got Voldemort stuck in you head, weirdo!

Me: No, that would make me Quirinus Quirrell.

SSM: God! Save me!

Me: Even God can't save you if HE rises again. 

SSM: Oh crap!

Me: Listen, this is important. If Lord Voldemort does rise... I will have to go... Okay. You get that, right? You just take good care of Ri, alright. I will come back and take Ri with me when he is eleven.


SSM stared at me for a moment and then he just shook his head and walked away. I wonder why he asked me to wait if he just had to walk away. Weird guy! And I really hope that he starts taking important things, like Voldemort, seriously.

Birthday giveaway - awesome totes!

It is my birthday again. Yay!

And this year for my birthday I have decided to be extremely generous and do a giveaway on my blog. :D

I have put in all my heart and soul and love and made these four grocery totes. So some lucky four people will get to flaunt them.

I have also made these totes because I like a good environment and I want to urge people to stop using plastic bags.

So basically I am an awesome person.

Here is a picture of the totes again - to lure you – simple rules to follow and you could be a proud owner of one of these.

1.  Post a comment on this post saying good things about me because I am a narcissist and I love reading good things about me. Also make a promise on the comment that you will refrain from using plastic grocery bags and use these instead.
2. Like my Facebook page because I wish to start getting popular. K  
3. Follow my blog. Come on that is not too difficult, right? And you guys don’t want to miss the giveaways that I host again.
4. Optional – Sing “bharon, maang meri bharon” in your most sensual voice, record it and send it to me on my mail id mentioned on my “About me" page. This is because I can do with some smiles on my birthday. Though this is optional, I would love it. And just be happy I haven't asked to do the Mamata Kulkarni moves, record it and send it to me.
5. Totally optional and only if you really feel like it – Share this post on your Facebook page.

 
      So there you go! Easy!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This giveaway ends on 12^th April. I will be choosing the winners in an extremely fair manner through the Rafflecopter lucky winner random selection. The winners will be announced on my blog on 13^th April.

Good luck!

Introducing Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington aka Nearly Finless Nick

Ri and I had gone shopping together last weekend. SSM was going to pick us up on his way back from the hospital where my Mother - in - law was admitted. (She is fine now, thanks for asking)

This meant that Ri and I had ample time to shop without being hurried up. So all the shopping from the grocery list was done and more and then we went to the alley where they sell fish and meat. Apparently they also sell live fishes and there, in one of the tanks, floating in a plastic pouch with water just enough to cover him, was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington in a tiny pouch

I immediately felt sorry for him and Ri fell in love with him. So we had no option but to adopt him. After all he deserved better than that tiny pouch. See how sad he looks in there. He also seemed to have a rip in his fin. (Though the guy at the store did not agree to that bit about the rip and insisted that the fin is perfect and this is how it look, I refused to believe them.)

When SSM came to pick us up and saw Nick in the pouch his immediate reaction was - that fish is not going to live till we get home. And I said, do not call him that fish. He has got a name - call him Sir Nicolas or Nick. Though I do not think that you deserve to call him Nick. You are not on first name basis with him yet. As a reaction, SSM rolled his eyes, which Ri and I were only happy to ignore.

We also had a conversation that reminded me of this post.

At home, in the jar - Nick is as happy as he can be. He loves it there. He loves playing around the roots of the money plant there. He also goes and sits on a root that forms a loop in there. And goes around it.

See how he get into the root loop and comes out from the other side. That is his favourite play.

SSM said that fighter fishes react violently when they see their own reflection in a mirror. I told him that Nick is no usual fighter. He is a calm happy fish and that SSM should not even try to agitate him with a mirror.

But SSM being SSM, he did get a mirror and kept showing it to Nick. And. Nick. Did. Not. React. Ha!

See how happy he is and how lovely his colour is.

SSM then said that Nick is either blind or loony. And I told SSM that if there is anyone loony in this house, it is him... so he better not say a word against Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Hatred!

Sourced from somewhere on the internet

She and I, we are sisters, but she has always treated me with disdain. She always wanted what I had. She always got what I had. Either by snatching, bullying, pleading, stealing…. She always got her way.

She was good, nah, better than I was, always, in everything. So they always gave her what she wanted. I was never the one they liked.

If I had a doll, she ensured she had two of those. If I got a book, she had to have it… and others too. It continued through the years – workshops I attended, she got them too… dresses I wore, she got better. She even managed to woo the boy I secretly yearned for.

And then when I was devastated by my miscarriage, It wasn't mere coincidence that she conceived a month later. I knew it wasn't.

And today after all these years, I have got my chance. The revenge I have been waiting for, all these years. Today we are together far away from home. No one knows we are here; it was our little secret – sister secret.

I take out my wand, point it out towards her and scream my favourite word “CRUCIO” … Again and again and again and again… and finally I utter, “Obliviate!” and walk away.

When I looked like Harry Potter but failed to obtain a proof.

I do not like fevers. Not because I feel tired or because I miss work or all those medicines, but because fever always does something weird to me. This time around I had a nasty viral attack. The kind that comes with a sore throat, body ache and a constantly rising temperature.

I woke up in the middle of the night, 2 am to be precise, to find SSM awake, tending to me. (He is a sweetheart that way.)

"Why are you awake?" I asked.

"You are swelling up", he replied.

"That sounds rude", I mumbled to myself as I walked to the bathroom.

I entered the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror. (The mirror is right there in front of you when you enter the bathroom. No, I do not have a weird habit of staring at myself in the mirror, in the middle of the night.) (Oh, well, who am I kidding!) Anyway, I saw myself in the mirror and this is what I saw.



No, no, I did not see Harry Potter, but this is exactly what I looked like.

And then the following conversation took place:

Me: SSM, come here, quick.

SSM: (Rushing into the bathroom) What? You okay? Are you feeling faint? Want me to hold you? (See, he is quite a sweetheart)

Me: No. I am fine. I mean I do feel like I will faint any moment but I can manage. I actually want you to click a picture of me. Now.

SSM: What? You want me to, what?

Me: Erm... click my picture.

SSM: (slowly) Explain?

Me: Look at me. I look like Harry Potter. You have to click my picture. No one is going to believe me otherwise.

SSM: (taking a deep breath) You are kidding me, right? You can't be for real.

Me: I am serious.

SSM: (taking a deeper breath) It's 2am. You are running a high temperature. You will sleep. Right now.

Me: Just one picture please. This will make an awesome Blogpost.

SSM: No. You must be crazy. Go off to sleep.

Me: Please.

SSM: NO!

Me: Get my phone. I will take a selfie.

SSM: (in an extremely tired voice) SLEEP. NOW.

And that's how I lost the only chance I had, to prove that I did look like Harry Potter.

(Not such a sweetheart after all. Hmph!)

Mr. Black's curse

I was living a wonderful life at 42 Ivy Cottage; and I had been living here for millions of years now. Many a household did this cottage shelter and many a household did I entertain – yes entertain.

Humans – they normally come across as not too fond of us; but in reality we do provide a lot of amusement. I, especially have always been, well, almost liked by all the families who have been here at 42 Ivy Cottage. I would enjoy making things disappear; make the cat go crazy; pull the shoes out of the rack, but I wasn’t in particular mischievous or destructive.

I am not a ghost or a spirit, I am a boggart. The humans in this house have known that and have never really been afraid of me. Except probably the time when Aunt Polly of the Saunders family had come to stay over.

Aunt Polly was having a leisure bath when I got into the bath with her and started blowing life size colourful bubbles. She obviously could not see me but she could see the bubbles. I thought she would be pleased to see the huge crimson, mauve, orange bubbles raising from the bath; floating up to the ceiling and then bursting with a loud pop. Instead she jumped of the bath, managed to wrap a towel around and ran screaming out of the bathroom. I think the Saunders were a little upset with me; because they left within a few days of this event.

I had always had a ball of a time at 42 Ivy Cottage till… Till that one unfortunate day when Phineas Nigellus Black and his wife Ursula Flint moved in with their son Sirius Black. I was happy when they came in I had always liked children and Sirius seemed like a kid who did like some fun around. What I did not know then was that the Blacks, they knew magic.

This is what happened: one day when Sirius was out playing on the porch. I thought of having some fun with him and I gave him a little push. He turned around and since he could not see me he shrugged and went back to his play. I waited for a couple of minutes and went ahead to push him again. Just as I pushed him his mother Ursula walked out and saw an invisible being push her son. Livid, she took her wand out; pointed towards me and uttered something. I, for the first time started taking a weird un-shapely form. I was becoming visible.

Sirius caught hold of me and locked me up in a box he was carrying. I was terrified in there. I did not know what fate stood before me. I didn’t know what was happening. But I was being taken around all over the place. I could feel the jerks and the bumps in the box.

After what seemed like forever I was finally let out of the box. When I came out I saw I was facing Mr. Black. He gave an evil, sinister smile and pointed his wand towards me. I don’t know what he said but I felt a shooting pain all over my body. It was like a thousand of bees and stung me all over. I screamed and I heard my own scream loud and clear. I realised that I actually had a mouth now and I could speak. Now, I should have been happy with that, but no; I was a boggart. Boggarts don’t speak. Boggarts do not have a form. Boggart are not to be seen. They are only supposed to play harmless, funny mischief.

“What were you thinking trying to push my boy like that”, he roared. I was frightened, terrified like I had never been before. I stuttered something. Mr Black burst out laughing and only if you would call it laughter; it was as terrifying as a hundred banshees all wailing together.

“Frightened are you?” he said with a cold stealth in his voice. “Not liking the form that you’ve taken, is it?” he asked with the same slyness.

I stared at him blankly. “Oh, you poor little thing”, he said in a sinister tone. “I wish I could turn you back into an invisible formless boggart” he said softly. “But I won’t for what you’ve done to my boy”, he yelled.

He then pointed his wand and cursed me, “You insignificant filthy boggart, while I turn you into a shapeless form again, you will be locked up in dark places and even when you do come out, you will take the form of the fear of the person whom you see the moment you are out in the open.”

Phineas Nigellus Black had uttered the curse in a single breath and I completely passed out after he said it.

Life had changed; and I hated it. The Blacks moved from 42 Ivy Cottage to a place called 12 Grimmauld Place. They took me along with them and locked me up in a drawer.

The curse was dreadful. The first time I was let out was by Sirius. The minute I saw him I turned into a corpse. I felt terrible about my self. He too was frightened but then he pointed his wand at me and said Riddikulus and I immediately turned into a silly looking girl with a frilly dress and started dancing in what I felt was the most inane manner ever. Everyone in the room roared with laughter. I had no control whatsoever on myself. Oh, I felt so humiliated that day.

Well that was just the beginning. This would keep happening occasionally. I spent centuries in 12 Grimmauld place and saw generations of the Black family come and go.  They were all the same, one worse than the other. 

I remember the worst time I had been was with this girl Bellatrix. She was never up to any good. She invented this game where two or three of them would come together and open me up; and then I would get all confused. I would take a mixed up form of a mummy and a spider together; or that of a corpse, a snake and a slug together. That in it self made me look so funny that a counter riddikulus spell was not required.

I was wretched. I had lost all hopes of a life.

The Blacks all perished after a while. 12 Grimmauld Place lay vacant except for an old faithful slave, Kreacher, who never bothered me.

Many years later some people started moving in. From voices that I heard they seemed to be on a secret mission. They kept talking about some Harry Potter and about someone whose name they never mentioned or rather were too scared to mention.

I waited but no one came to the drawer I was in. I was getting restless. Even if it again meant that I would take a fearful form and then get ridiculed, I wanted to get out. I started creating a ruckus in the drawer. I knew the people outside had heard me. But they did not do anything.

He next day I suddenly heard someone walk towards the drawer. The drawer opened and I saw a nice lady as I surged out. I immediately took the form of the dead body of a young red haired boy. She uttered Riddikulus, but something went wrong and I instead turned to another slightly older red haired boy staring at her with lifeless eyes. Now she was really scared. She tried the spell again but this time I turned into a dead elderly gentleman with blood all over my face.

She was weeping and sobbing by now; but I just kept changing forms from one red haired dead body to another. There was something going seriously wrong with the spells. The unfortunate lady was just not getting it right. Finally I turned into a dead body of a dark haired boy with glasses and a scar on the forehead. I realised that I was the Harry Potter boy they kept talking about.

Suddenly I saw the real Harry Potter enter into the room. Seeing me and the lady, he shouted out to someone. Two men came running in. I recognised one of them. He was one of the Black boys. His name, if I remember correctly, was Sirius. I heard him address the other man as Remus. Remus pointed his wand at me. He was looking at me; be me, I mean the Harry potter me.

I don’t know why but I suddenly felt buoyant. I tried to communicate to him through the eyes of the dead boy. It was difficult but the look in Remus’s eyes gave me a hope. I just felt that he understood that I was pleading to him.

I do not remember what happened then, but suddenly I turned in to a whiff of smoke and blew out of the window. I was freed. I was liberated at last.

I found my way back to 42 Ivy Cottage and I have been here ever since. So if you ever come to stay here and find the drawstring of your pyjamas missing every night, do not worry. It’s just me.


***

Click here to check out the Black family tree from the House of Black