the art of producing illusions as entertainment by the use of sleight of hand, deceptive devices, etc.; legerdemain; conjuring: to pull a rabbit out of a hat by magic.
|2.||the art of producing a desired effect or result through the use of incantation or various other techniques that presumably assure human control of supernatural agencies or the forces of nature.|
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Genuine Fake (113)
The hospital was in a state of chaos that afternoon. Although asleep on the wardroom bed,Nina’s subconscience was in an overdrive. Memories of her unhappy married life flashed back and forth. Particularly of that morose night..
“We cannot afford it,Nina,whatabout our aspirations?”asked Shantanu.
“Luxuries can come by anytime,Shaan; moments like these come once in a lifetime!” answered she.
“Ohh yes,for you!” said he and stomped out…
Eight months of struggle had passed since then. Yet everything seemed right today..
“Congratulations for the baby boy”, whispered the nurse. Nina woke up to see the baby and a sorry Shaan holding him.
The magic of a new life had just unfolded itself.
And thereafter,Happiness prevailed.
Willy Wingfoot (116)
My eyes went blind with tears
Of not pain
Of not loss
But by the memory of those years
Clinging to the tip of my father’s robe,
Wandering around farms,
Upon yellow hills,
Through sea and heavy mist.
On and On.
Singing our own song.
When a secret sip of his mead,
Or to kill a game by his blade,
Were the innocent dreams i relished to aim.
When sorrow becomes my shadow,
And grief makes it hard to swallow.
A walk down the line,
Of a life left so far behind,
Feels like heavenly dew,
flowing down the desert of my throat.
Such is the MAGIC,
My childhood has bestowed.
Agnisen Chauhan (120)
“Mr. Minella. Constable John saw you shoot Burt Carlson. He caught you in the corridor without a gun or bloodstains on you or on the crime scene. You couldn’t have swept all of’em stains so swiftly! No windows in the crime scene room. Dunno what to say, but I’d have to let you go for now. But you would’ve to drop down here for some paperwork later this week.”
“I have a plane to catch in twenty minutes. Goodbye.”
Two hours later, Inspector Harte gets a fax for Mr. Minella’s face identification from the US Crime Records Database.
Closest match: Carl Vajic, Albert, Texas
Record Backup: Newspaper Ad – “Vajic’s Magic…. Magician Vagic’s vanishing train act ….”
“There all along!!”
Truth Dude (120)
‘Ganapati Bappa Morya, Mangal Moorti Morya, Ganapati Bappa Morya, Mangal Moorti Morya…’the hypnotic chant continued to reverberate in the tiny hall.
Half closed eyes, the power of belief, reverence and electrified atmosphere cramped the room amidst the already huddled figures. A few were pacing rapidly in the meager space they had.
Already, the heart beats were heard across the open country.
Already, people clasped their hands tightly…oh so tightly.
‘Wwiiiiiiiiikkkkkkiiiiiiiiittttttttttt’, somebody screamed.
Prayers and hopes. Aspirations and dreams. All rolled together.
A billion people stood, sat rooted.
Sweat and tears.
And then it happened.
A spell was cast.
A hush fell.
A collective gasp.
A nation erupted whipped itself into frenzy!
Dok Saab (120)
He was waiting on the stage for curtains to rise. Son of Peecee Sorcerer, the greatest magician of India, grandson of the court magician of Raja Mansukhdev, magic was in his blood. Tall, emaciated, he looked royal even in his tattered robes and faded turban. Paints flaked off from his rickety instruments.
“How many tickets we sold for this show, Maya”
“Only three rows have been sold, Indroneel”
Aimlessly he pointed his wand towards a wooden cage.
“We can’t survive long like this”
“I’ll have to find some other job”
Box office clerk of Frolic Cinemas was busy counting notes.
“Sorry, the show is houseful for the weekend”
“SRK’s magic!!, it never fails”
“Give ten tickets for Monday matinée then”
Sarang Mahajan (119)
The sun was there by a branch hung
And thunders, inside a teapot rung
Seven blue seas lived in a bottle corked
Moon was inside a pocket parked
Deep, dense jungles grew in a rabbit’s hole
And all the stars twinkled in a cat’s milk bowl
In one stupid matchbox, all the storms would rage
Snowy, grey mountains were locked in a birdcage
Dark clouds gathered in an ironsmith’s nook
Rainbows were dangled by a nearby hook
Just then, I woke up, in my smooth, warm bed
‘A stupid dream of magic,’ with a shake of head I said
But before I slept back, something queer caught my eye
Just above my head, there was a cloud sailing by
His one touch, flowers bloomed out of nothingness;
One wave of the wand, a million stars burst on the horizon;
Each fold of his velvet cloak,concealed a plethora of
fantasies,enchantments,dreams and wonders;
He cast spells and every wish was fulfilled;
He built a castle in the land of pixies,mermaids,unicorns and fairies galore.
As it turned into Gahenna,she asked the denizen of Utopia
When did the magic end.. of love.. of hope.. of life
When did he decide to walk away
As her vision blurred and darkness engulfed all..
The divorce papers slid from one hand and life from another..
The bottle of magic portion rolled on the floor, the label said “poison”.
Mandappa KC (116)
The summary of the last seven years of my life – magical.
The details would take me seven times the time. Each second. Each moment. Each breath. Each everything. Everything with her, about her and together.
She tugged at my heart with heaven-sent harp strings. Her words, honey coated dewdrops on my now sugar coated mind. Like an angel kissed life I lived with her.
Then she left. Without a trace. It nearly killed me but it was worth it. And I knew her secret all along. All that happiness, the otherworldly love. I knew her secret. She never slipped up, but I caught on from the first day when she said “Hi, my name is Maya.”
Mickey the Monkey (120)
I longed for Jane at two in the night.
How to reach her, that was my plight.
Couldn’t use magic outside hogwarts, I knew.
Desire overtook reason, out my wand I drew.
A big monkey I transfigured to, jumping on the trees.
Into her room I entered, leaving behind all my worries.
Scared at first, she recognized my voice.
I hugged and kissed the lady of my choice.
In came her mother hearing the jangle.
I jumped out, my wand on the table.
“Whom were you talking”, she scolded her.
“What’s that?” she took my wand with her.
Since then I am hanging near her house, on the tree.
God! When will I get my wand back and be free.
Priyanka Acharya (120)
A pair of soothing hands, lots of loving kisses, warm hugs as and when required, sometimes, even when not required, and a secret magic ingredient – the perfect recipe to feel well. Whenever I have been sick or simply put down by the troubles of life, this potion has cheered me. Brewed to perfection, by my parents and siblings, even my friends, – for all my twenty five years of decadent life. And now that I move on to a different and new, yet exciting life, a thought crosses my mind, ‘Would I still get it?’ – and my heart answers, “yes, because the secret ingredient is the magic of love”, and I know it’ll just get better and better with time.
GS Virmani (181)
“magic is in mind, its our imagination that something is inexplicable,But there is nothing in this world which happens without a reason.Just we have to find the reason and say ‘Eureka Eureka’.Its just our effort,our deeds,our plans, our projection which works..’no MAGIC works’..said the new CEO ,Pritish at opening speech to his board of directors and staff.
Pritish was pretty happy with the recent developments in his life.he was recently promoted to the post with bouquet of all luxuries,got news his wife Smita is an expectant,his younger brother got H1B visa,share market in boom and all investments doubled.
To celebrate there was a little lawn party at his place in evening where among guest and friends there was be a small show of a clown and a magician.Smita herself managed the liquor and food menu for the party.the party was great untill she started with labour pain and was brought to hospital.
Smita’s excessive bleeding and being her anaemic brought her soon into ‘danger’ phase. Shortage of her blood group type made conditions worst.
Pritish was praying for a ‘magic’ .
Konfessioner Singh (118)
I shoot blue butterflies
with noiseless firecrackers.
They flutter with purple pigeons
under a yellow starred
black velvet ink sky
between those red fur clouds;
And there’s this supernatural feel…
The dancing bear that escaped
sits next to me,
with his paw wrapped
in a bloody bandage.
His eyes are on the trapeze artist,
she’s waving him farewell.
a black kohl tear
a white powdered cheek;
And he is discovered…
By the monkey:
with a stolen monocle,
and an old grudge;
for free backrubs.
And I hear–
that the canons were burgled
of dead human cannon supermen
by blind clowns without knees
at the Circus of the Absurd.