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Magic.

Magic is a very big and great word.

Magic is a phenomenon. There is magic in everything.

It’s an art, of disguise, of illusion, of everything that is false.

Magic is a ride on a bus which never existed.

Magic is an image of nothing yet everything.

The word “magic” has been the part of our “lingua franca” since we were small.

Magic is of many types. But there are two types of magic. The first type of magic is normal magic, which we all know as magic portrayed by illusionists and magicians.

The second type of magic is the kind of magic which exists in our daily life.

When a small child is asleep and his mother calls out to him-“my darling son, please wake up”, the magic in those words are priceless.

An achiever, when he or she achieves his/her dream, the magic in that achievement is extreme.

The magic in a mountain is unbelievable. A huge white Himalayan mountain has such an aura that nothing can seem to exist when you stand in front of it except the chill.

The magic in seeing an exotic bird is rare.

The magic in scoring 100/100 in mathematics is supreme.

The magic in getting a promotion after a lot of hard work is full of happiness and cries.

The magic in tears of happiness is special.

The magic in getting approved for a tough to get visa is jubilant.

The magic in seeing a magician’s trick is truthful.

The magic on buying a car is driveable.

The magic on the seeing the prices of petrol and diesel going down is heart fulfilling.

The magic on having your favourite dish made by your mother is out of the world and “no words exist for it”.

The magic in seeing your children succeed is triumphant.

The magic in seeing an elephant trumpet is of awe.

The magic in writing a blog is brilliant and acknowledging.

The magic in seeing a dolphin swim is superb.

The magic in visiting a place of worship is divine and beautiful.

The magic in holding your new born baby for the first time is more beautiful than kindness, happiness and smiles all mixed together.

The magic in seeing an aeroplane fly is loud.

The magic in riding on a double decker bus is windy and cheerful.

The magic in seeing a good, clean and nice movie is relieving and mood relaxing.

The magic in travelling is unique, awe inspiring, great and good for soul.

The magic in having a nicely made pastry is delicious and beautiful.

The magic in having a soft loaf of bread with butter and sugar is appetite fulfilling with happiness and a smile.

The magic on hitting a six is full of self believe.

The magic on scoring a goal is full of adrenaline.

The magic in loving yourself is a magic which is in-built.

The magic in loving others is difficult.

Magic is magic. How you use it, how you pursue it, is your business. Know that wrong use of magic is full of downfalls and the good of use of it is justified and sometimes rewarding too.

Humans are born for hard work. When you weave your work with hard work, then the magic of good kind weaves into it and you flourish.

Magic exists in us and in fairies and pixies and other magical beings and objects. The only differences between us and them are knowledge, uses and need.

Be happy and see the magic in you and your work and in others too. Keep a lookout for the other kind of magic, such magical beings or objects.

The pixie next door is calling out for help, but I ain’t going. Who knows what the hell the matter is?

Adios!

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Paris Saint Germain-FC (PSG) enter the Quarter Finals of Coupe de France (French Cup).

World famous club Paris Saint Germain-FC (PSG), had to fight to a tough game against FC Villefranche, to enter the Quarter Finals of the Coupe de France (French Cup).

The match remained a till 90 + 3 minutes. Even in the first half of extra time, the score remained 0-0.

In the second half of the extra time, three goals were scored by Paris Saint Germain-FC (PSG).

The club PSG are a four time consecutive record holder of Coupe de France title.

Congrats to PSG.

Adios!

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The Song Of Life.

This new born baby is the joy and love of his/her parents. Within him/her they can see themselves.He/she is a miniature version of his/her parents with his/her own individuality.

Life is a very precious gift, which mustn’t be given away at any cost.

I was very grumpy. I ate two plates of panipuri and then again could not control myself and asked the sandwich vendor to give me the sandwiches of my choice.

The junk in my stomach was not melting and not even a single burp was coming out.

Ma was also unhappy to see me like that. We went to the mall and proceeded towards the gaming zone. I love to watch children playing in the rides. We could not stand there for long and came out of the mall.

We stepped out from the exit door and were coming down the steps, when a number of collegians entered the mall, most probably they had bunked college. We ignored them.

Ma told me that we would walk the distance till home and my stomach would be easy. An old man, little bent, holding a stick and limping at each step was walking ahead of us.

We crossed the brackish water stretch. Metro work is going on over there.

Crossed the road through the space given for all. Ma asked me to walk slowly as the man was ahead of us and seemed feeble. He crossed and we too crossed. A person helped him also. He sat on the footpath at the junction of our lane just to the right, spread a plastic sheet. His dhoti had turned slight grey to black and his kurta was torn in three places and patch work was done on too.

While sitting cried in a wonderful, heavy tune from his heart without scratches “Radhe- O Jagdish” (the consort and her lord). His voice was extremely melodious , perfect in sur and taal.It was a crystal-clear voice. He could have beaten any champion of any reality T.V. show.

Both of us were stunned and understood that he earns by singing.

We went near him.Mother gave him ten rupees and I requested him to sing the same song.

He looked at me quizzically and asked-“You want to hear this same song from me or some other song?”

I replied-“No, I want to hear this particular song from you.”

He-“Are you sure?”

I-“Yes, uncle”.

His face was tired.

He closed his eyes and two lines from a Krishna bhajan came out from his heart.It was –“Lord, please forgive me that I cannot see you though you are forever mine”.

He stopped singing. I can tell you that, his voice is unique, superb and realized beyond life and death. His voice pierced our heart and overcoming with emotions, Ma and me, both of us were in tears.

Few passer-by’s too had stopped on their way, to hear him sing. His voice was a rare voice. Such rare voices can never ever be measured nor are they awarded on Earth.

While tears splashed from my eyes, many questions were aroused in my mind. They were:-

1.Where did he learn to sing so beautifully?

2.Was he a singer? A trained or a professional singer once upon a time?

3.How come with such a beautiful and rare voice, he was sitting near a nullah on a plastic sheet with the sky as his covering?

But I couldn’t ask him those questions. The questions remained inside my mouth. I felt that he was a huge personality and that gap between him and me was very big.

I gave him ten bucks and asked him “Uncle will you have something?”

He accepted the ten rupees with a namaskar and replied-“Tea”.

Still the questions pounced my heart and yet I controlled myself. That old man was an extremely talented musician and definitely he had some connection with the music world/industry. Seeing him there, it simply didn’t feel right.

I crossed the side lane and brought tea for him. His face glowed.

Wittily he looked to us and told-“I take care of my voice and throat.”

God, let me hear from him, let him sing many more songs for many, many more days.

The song of life is like a flowing river, like the sweet melodious tune of a bird. The song can be easy, it can be hard and it can be neither easy nor hard. That’s how the song of life goes. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Like the musician, it too has kept on flowing. He has lost his everything, but his music is with him. Be with you and within you.You are you.

The average life span of a tortoise is more than 200 years, yet they don’t change. Even their pace remains the same.

“The you” who resides in you is like a rose. Just as a rose can’t smell and look like lily or jasmine and in the same way, your self can’t change. Hold on to it and see the truth of life flowing within it.

My stomach trouble was gone.

Adios!