The magic

She sways the little bop of a head from side to side and smiles awkwardly. I tell her to stop fidgeting and finish her painting. Her water-colored, small stroked, blue and black, white and red, yellow and orange painting. She doesn’t listen… did I ever?

I remember once, a long time ago, I sat in front of the bay windows and suddenly wished for there to be more colour in my room. And that’s how the windows in my living room bear the little paisleys and lilies and every time sun shines through them, they act like a wondrous prism that brings a riot of colors to my otherwise pink room.

Do you believe in magic…. Okay at least maybe, guardian angels? I was in a rush and as I locked the door behind me, I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten my cell phone in the house. I came running back and fetched it, and as I came back to the lift, I saw it stuck between two floors and a yellow scarf hanging out of it. When I fall ill, I get signs that say I should rest- a missed train, too much rain, an auto stuck in a pothole… Everyday something small, something that you or zee would oversee, makes me believe in guardian angels. The bigger question about the existence of magic? Aren’t we all a little bit of that? That magic!