Amortentia

For those who don't get the Harry Potter reference from the title, Amortentia is said to be the most powerful love potion in the world, designed to smell different to each and every person. The aroma reminds people of all the things they find attractive. It doesn't manufacture true love of course. It just causes a powerful infatuation. We're officially introduced to in the sixth book by Professor Slughorn who says it is one of the most dangerous potions of all. Made with Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, Moonstone and some other ingredients, it is recognizable by it's mother-of-pearl sheen and by the spiraling steam that rises from it. Now, moving on from the geek-out, I was wondering what Amortentia would smell like to me-the pages of old books, the aroma of chicken curry, filter coffee, my moringa-scented perfume and the smell of rain and wet grass. That combination would be strange.
Now, I think that J.K Rowling probably got the inspiration to create the fictitious Amortentia from aphrodisiacs, alcohol and the alchemy associated with witchcraft. Now, I don't understand something. Why would anyone want someone to be obsessed with them? Especially as the result of a magic spell? You know it isn't true, it isn't pure, it isn't real. You're holding them in a different kind of prison. And can you truly be happy knowing that the person doesn't love you, but is in a drug-induced state? No wonder witches were considered evil. They created hexes, elixirs, spells, potions designed to change the path of fate and one's destiny. What are we? Are we so desperate for affection that we're willing to shed all our dignity? Now, I know that potions and magic spells aren't real, but that doesn't mean that the desire to be loved and adored is potent enough to make us do crazy things. We change the way we dress, the way we speak, what we read and watch, the way we do our hair. We do all this to be liked. And I ask you, WHY? Do we really believe that people can't tell the difference between what's real and what's not? Everybody has different interests and if you believe that someone isn't interested in you because you don't enjoy the same things as they do, you're wrong. It's usually because they see that you're trying way too hard to pretend to be a savant. Taking an interest in what they do, while maintaining your own is a completely different matter That's a sign that you care. Not a sign that you're obsessed. A modern day, new age Amortentia-the ingredients-delusion, counterfeit interests and an unhealthy attitude.
I have no idea why I wrote this, I was supposed to be working on my political science assignment and my mind wandered off. Oh well, enjoy! :P

We Aren't Kids Anymore

The education system in India is quite strange. I'm in my first year of college and yet I'm still being made to bring my parents to collect my memorandum of marks. I mean, really? I'm 19. They need to let go sometime.
While talking to my mom, who complained about having to come meet the teachers, she told me that the system has mollycoddled us to the point of suffocation. It doesn't let us make decisions for ourselves. It even commits the mistakes that we should have made ourselves to learn a lesson. What can the teachers tell my mother that she doesn't already know? You can't grasp our hands with an iron fist. We're no longer the little kids who need babysitting all the time. Sure, we won't make great decisions all the time. However, that doesn't mean we shouldn't make them. When I was a little kid, probably 5-6 years old, I fell and scraped my knee pretty badly. My grandmother told me to stop crying, reasoning that I fell because it was life's way of toughening me up. We can't be protected from everything. As much as my mom would love to shelter me from the world, it isn't possible.
Now, I don't think this issue of the marks memo, arises out of some misplaced protective instinct. It arises out of the stupidity of our education system. We're all so set in our ways. Stick to the textbook. Nothing further. Your answers should be three sides at least. Doesn't matter if you fill it with crap as long as your subheadings are correct and its neat. We've become so focused on the textbooks that when it comes to practicality we're stumped. I'm not saying that being book smart isn't important. I value it above most things. But what's the point of being book smart if you can't explain it in your own style and actually implement it? Einstein once said that if you can't explain a matter in simple words, you haven't understood it. Exams are a test of memory and conceptual understanding. I think we also need to be taught how to actually use all those lessons that almost made us die of boredom. Coming back to my original point, do you want us to grow up or not? Do you want us to make you proud? Do you want us to smile and remember you fondly? If yes, let us go. We're not children anymore. And for god's sake, we can be trusted with a report card.

Here's To Another Year

So its 1 A.M. And I've turned 19 years old. Now this year, I wasn't particularly looking forward to my birthday. And now that its arrived, I still feel the same. Sure, I love the wishes I get at 12 and the incredibly sweet messages. That's the best part of my day.
I still remember the birthday parties I had as a kid.. The entire class would be invited; the house decorated with balloons and streamers; enough food to feed an army; the delicious cake- usually with a picture of my choice on it and the games my mom would conduct to ensure we didn't run haywire. And although I'd be having a ball being the centre of attention, I would secretly want to run to my room to open all my presents. I've always loved the idea of pretty, shiny wrapping paper. I adore the sound of the crackling as I rip it open. The feeling of exhilaration when I finally get a look at my presents. Ahh. I love all that.
I'm currently writing this because I'm unable to fall asleep. So, it may seem a tad bit boring and random. Who am I kidding? It is.
So, 19. What does one do when they grow a year older? Party hard? That's not really my style. My friend told me that turning 19 was amazing for her. She truly began to take her first few steps towards adulthood, towards self-acceptance. Here's hoping that my year will be at least half as fulfilling as hers was. Sorry for this ramble of disjointed sentences. I didn't quite know what to do to fall asleep. I guess this works.