Ah Harry Potter. The potter heads out there would probably understand all the things that I am about to say. Those who have not read the Harry Potter books at a young age might dismiss these books as merely children’s stories. These might be stories for children but I know a lot of adults have not read the Bhagavad Gita, the Quran, or the Bible. Now tell me, how do you learn about life if you are not born with that knowledge. Do you wait for life to teach you? What if life’s lessons are not too obvious? What if it’s too late to learn that lesson?
Well sometimes, a miracle like Harry Potter can happen which gave me strength when nothing else made sense for a kid. That is what happened to me. I remember picking up this book when I was 12. Having been a mystery book fan myself till then, gorging on book after book of “Nancy Drew” mysteries and the “Secret Seven”, ravaging the “A to Z mysteries” and learning about the world by reading all the “Magic Tree House” books. I remember reading a few chapters of Harry potter in the library and not really connecting with the story.
Magic.. There is no such thing as magic. This book must be for children. I am too old to be reading about fairies and trolls, I remember telling myself at age 12 (My older self rolls my eye thinking of that 12 year old). I dismissed the book and didn’t think twice and left to look for yet another mystery book to satiate my thirst. But as days went by, I kept thinking about the boy under the stairs. I wondered what happened to him. I wondered what all the fuss was about. I went back to the library and checked out the book and continued my story and I never looked back again.
I grew up with Harry. I cried when he cried. I was disappointed when he was. I felt pain when he struggled. I read about dementors and how they can suck out your soul. I read about friendship and staying true to oneself. I learnt about being brave and putting others’ needs before our own. I learnt that it was ok to be scared and to ask for help.I learnt that it was ok to be weird and not let the world tell you how you should be.
As I reached my 30s, I look back at my life and think about all the times I thought about excerpts from the book. How I wondered ah isn’t this something similar to what “that” character felt when “this” thing happened to them.
I remember going back to India at 14 years of age from the US and having spent 4 years in the US getting an “American Accent” trying to fit in and finding myself trying to unlearn the “American” accent to try and fit in India again, I thought of Harry. People at school made fun of my accent, talked behind my back like a girl from the US. “Ah she must be thinking she is all that”, I heard them say. I was the school crush and had this unnecessary attention which I didn’t ask or deserve just for being different. I thought this is how Harry felt when he first joined Hogwarts and heard people whispering about him in corridors.
When I was scared of dark places I would whisper “Lumos” and pretend there was light. I remember looking at strangers on the road that walked too close to me and pretended they were Voldemort and I could use the “Avada Kedavra” curse to kill them if they harmed me.
Then more darker things started happening in life. My mom and dads fights at home became frequent as our financial situation grew worse everyday. I tried to drown out that noise by reading Harry Potter again and again. When my dad died and I found myself, my sister and mom at the darkest point in our life spiritually and financially, and found myself frequently depressed. The phases of depression made me think of “Dementors”. Her references of “Dementors” sucking out joy and happiness in our lives resonated with the way I felt. They make us relive our worst experiences. I felt them again when my dad died and I watched his cremation ceremony. The memory still haunts me seeing his lifeless hopeless body. When everyone around me said that he committed suicide, I imagined him taking tablets and dying from heart attack. That’s how me and my sister thought dad died. So that became our worst memory. It fed on our soul and I remember growing weaker. But we tried to do things we love and I learned thats the only way to get out of it.
“Expecto Patronum,” is said to be a projection of a person’s happiest memories and we try to remember happy memories with our loved ones to try and push away the darkness growing within. Such a brilliant and poetic way she had put it in.
Harry’s fight against Voldemort and Hermione’s support of her beliefs are examples of courage that I deeply admired. I learnt from Ron believing in myself is far more powerful than any “Liquid Luck”. I learnt from Luna that its ok to be weird and what people define as “Normal” is way too overrated anyway. I learnt from Lupins lessons while tackling a Boggart that the only way to defeat our fears is to face them headon and laugh at it. I learnt to ask for help when I truly needed it and that in the end like Harry would need to face this world on my own and defeat Voldemort (My inner demons) on my own because I had learnt all that I need to.
For those who have not read Harry Potter, I encourage you to read it no matter how old or young you think you are. It truly is a masterpiece.
