Treasure chest of memories Part III

The small puddle of memory that I splashed around today was primarily the one about my happy place. Probably because I’ve been having a very bad day and I had to escape into that zone where I can comfortably cocoon up. I read this interview of JK Rowling, where she said that magic would always remain a prominent part of our growing up and also of our adult lives. There is no connect with religion here, and it’s not about religion at all. It’s about having some kind of power that helps you be in control of a situation. That’s something we rarely get right? When do we ever have any kind of power to change something that’s going haywire? Magic lets you do things that put you back on the leader-board. So, I wander into that rabbit hole of memory where I am in power. There was this old trunk in the attic inside my aunt’s workshop, which always intrigued me. Never knew what was in there but I liked making up stories about it. I would dress up in my mom’s cotton saree that smelled like jasmine (thanks to the odd amount of starch she used to put in them) and then put on some lipstick, wear some of her fake jewelry and then go up to the roof. I’d then pretend to be the owner of this magic shop where I can conjure magical things that would come out that rusty old trunk and sell them off to my imaginary shoppers. They would come pouring in, one after the other looking for odd things like the horse-hoof lake, the needle through which you can spin of threads of golden fleece and the owl’s feather which helps put people go off to sleep whenever they want to. In exchange I’d take kittens from them, or pickles or ice cream on stick – mainly because I was forbidden to touch these items otherwise. Coming back to the magic trunk – the rusty dusty one was kept in that room for a long time, sometimes covered with cloth, sometimes with things my aunt would make like rugs or tapestry or curtains. I never got to know what was inside but I bet there were things that were wonderful and kind of magical. The summer afternoons were well spent I think, in bargaining with my customers and reviving the barter system: and sometimes they gave me an extra something if they were happy with the products I offered them.  Some day when I own a house of my own, I’ll keep a trunk just like that (not so dirty though) and right by the foot of my bed. I have a feeling I’ll dream of calmer things if I had my happy place right inside my room.