The addictive intoxication of nostalgia, Leads many to the path of doom. Time and time again, they succumb, Flying into the Flame. Like moths, their insides burn, And their wings sing. They fall befuddled, Wondering where they went wrong.
From the moment my father handed me that first book which I hungrily demolished in a matter of days, it has been a dream, to study amidst its dreamy spires and brush shoulders with its legendary figures. Visiting King's Cross and the highlands of Scotland only served to cement my decision further. No prizes for guessing the Institute of Interest then. Attending a mundane university with the rest of the muggles holds no promise or excitement for someone like me, who is convinced that it is in the magical school of Hogwarts where I belong. Over the years, with each book of the series devoured, I have admired afar the interesting curriculum offered at Hogwarts. The sheer variety of interesting subjects offered is reason enough for me to pack my bags and zip my way through to Platform 9 3/4 and board the next Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts. Astronomy, Dark Arts, Flying, Potions, Transfiguration and Charms are so much more indispensable to human existence than the ubiquitous Biolo
At first a non believer, all Love took was a glance and talk at the local cafe, He walked into my life like a tornado and nothing remained the same. Flowers blossomed, birds chirped and the once lonely heart beat back to life. Years down the road, over some kathi rolls and coffee, We plan our happily ever after and laugh with glee. This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend , an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Comments
Post a Comment