Sweet Intoxication

Rediscovering Childhood Dreams on Bookshelves

It's strange how one day in vacation equals an eternity in the life of someone who plainly has not much to do. However, by the end of this summer, I will still be surprised at how time flew by so fast.

It's an unusual concept, this 'time', isn't it?

Well, life away from my extended family (note : my wonderfully ridiculous friends) is harder than I thought. No maniacal laughing at random jokes, no innovative catchphrases, no collective fangirl-ing and basically NO FUN.

SO what I thought I would do, to 'kill' this disturbingly slow movement of time, was rummage through the bookshelf. I've been so thankful to my parents for never saying 'No' when I asked for a book. In fact I would like to thank all the Gods in the Universe (Note: Indian, Greek, Roman, Celtic, Norse, Egyptian etc etc) for giving me the most fantastic set of parents a dedicated bookworm could ask for.

By the time I was 13, my Dad had created a reasonably large library in the house. However, while my parents devoured all those non-fiction bestsellers, I took refuge in Fantasy.


I was nine when I started my journey with Harry; I daresay I should have been eleven. And it took enormous self-effort on my part (not to melt into dramatic sobs) when I did not receive my Hogwarts letter two years later. Well, I guess the Owl must have lost its way. It lost it's way for most of us actually.

I was always fascinated by the beautiful friendship portrayed by Rowling, the relationship between Harry and Sirius, and most of all the unexplained and complex character of Snape. I guess the reason why I dragged my parents to the bookshop/theater every time a new book/movie released was because I could not wait to escape the dreary reality to find solace within that world. That world where friendship was pure and untainted, courage a necessary virtue and love, undeniably the strongest emotion on the planet.


By the time I was fifteen, I had finished reading almost all of Tolkien's works because there could be no fantasy trilogy more riveting than the Lord of The Rings, nor stories more enthralling than the ones located on Middle-Earth.

What managed to captivate me the most was Tolkien's amazing ability to create Lands out of thin air. The ability to create Languages. I was lost in the beautiful magnificence of Rivendell, Lothlorien and Gondor. I drew images of what those places would look like before I saw the movies. I wrote about my own interpretations of his lyrical poems that filled the books. This phase was extraordinary; I was most productive as a writer than I had ever been in my entire Life. And I don't quite think I ever managed to forgive Peter Jackson for cutting out Tom Bombadil from the movies...I was looking forward to that!

Lothlorien, is by far my favourite.

These books were a sweet intoxication. As much as I tried to reduce the time I spent thinking about them, it never really worked. However, after Harry had defeated Voldemort and Frodo had safely reached the Grey Havens, I realized there was something starkly missing in my life.

It pained me to notice the obvious weaknesses in myself and in everyone around me. Nobody and nothing was perfect. I was never brave enough to fight for or protect what I wanted. I didn't have that one friend who would stand by me through thick and thin. I didn't have that companion whom I could trust with all my life and rely on for everything. Basically, there was no Harry, Ron or Hermione in my Life and I was definitely not happy about it. There was no noble Gandalf to whisk me away for an adventure and there was no loyal Samwise. Worst of all, there was no one I could complain to about these significant deficiencies because well, everyone would think I had lost it.

Now, I'm almost 20, and I get this feeling that I never really grew out of my childhood. And this feeling (trust me) is wonderful and sad at the same time.


So the first thing I did when I reached home is this. I tried to squeeze myself through all kinds of suitcases (with books inside), to reach one of the bookshelves where Middle-Earth and Hogwarts stood side by side. And I surrounded myself with volumes of both these magnificent lands, hoping I would never have to move from MY SPOT (oh what a Sheldon) until the world ends.

But this time as I read, I realized that the friendship, the chivalry and the love was differently placed in my life. I could see it in my family, and in my friends. I could trace the events in the books to the moments I spent with them, engrossed in blissful conversation. One year in college showed me that (even if you fail your modules) there is one thing that you absolutely cannot fail in. Your cultivation of happy relationships. To fight against all kinds of odds, to preserve what you love the most. To be a family that no Voldemort or Sauron could penetrate through. It was like Enlightenment, knowing that these virtues and vices the authors talked about were not meant to personified. They were meant to be experienced.

I came to realize how perfectly wonderful my life is.
That everything was present all along.
That I was simply too young to figure it all out back then.
That the World of Hogwarts has a place in the Heart.
That War and Peace in Middle-Earth is just a state of mind.