… Continued from Introducing Supriya Iyer
Today was D-day. She would have to appear for the personal interview. What chance did she have?! She would certainly fail on looks, voice, laugh and familiar. Cmon Priya, its time we went to that place, shouted her father. Don’t forget to get Frankie, yelled ma. They had been most understanding about her wanting to become a witch once they saw her curdle milk with a glance and turn it into rich dahi with a flick of her wrist. And that time when they were stuck in a traffic jam, getting horribly late for Namita Auntie’s daughter’s wedding, Supriya had suggested an alternate mode of transportaion. Ma had alighted gracefully from the bai’s broomstick, adjusted the pleats of her silk sari, and commented, “Why this is not much different from a scooter ride from Bandra to Churchgate”.
“And less bumpy too,” pointed out her father.
She pulled Frankie’s hair all over the place to make him look scary. All it did was make him look untidy. And cute. She hastily put her worst dress on and uncombed her hair. And rushed out of her door and ran to the car and to her dismay found that she had forgotten to undo the door bless.
By the time she was entering the gates of IITWW, Bombay, the magic had finished working. She was radiant. Cheeks glowing, hair brushed and cascading and dress new and starched. There was nothing for it now, she thought… Nothing I can do. I will have to study calculus. All around her were girls and boys her age, who had white hair or green eyes. Who could cackle. They had spiders and mice and bats and owls as familiars. She stood out like a sore thumb.
And suddenly her name was called. Supriya Iyer, please go to door number 13. She walked to number 13, her heart beating faster and faster, making the blood go to her cheeks and making her look even more beautiful. She hesitantly knocked on the door, and pushed it open. Frankie scampered in.
The room was bare. And dark. A rich red carpet covered the floor. But there were no chairs, no tables and no one. She stepped in and the door softly and resolutely snapped shut behind her.
Ok darling, drop your disguise please boomed a voice.
Supriya’s lips twitched and a small tear trickled down her face. I am not in a disguise, she sobbed. This is how I really look. She noticed a beautiful huge mirror on the wall to the left and she turned to face herself. And suddenly stopped crying. She looked and felt really good she thought. Did she really require a wart to do magic? Did she really have to cackle hideously to put a hex?
I am not in disguise. THIS is how I am. I love music and singing. I love my laugh. I love myself and I really want to study witchcraft. I want to learn magic. And I won’t do any more bad deeds for the day!
A white light, dazzlingly bright flashed. The room faded…
Supriya found herself in a foyer surrounded by many young people. Many of them beautiful or handsome, others plain, some ugly. All holding little yellow slips in their hands. All exultant.
Her slip read, “It’s a myth that you need to be ugly (or beautiful) to be a witch. It’s also a myth that you need to do bad deeds to be a great witch. To gain admission at IITWW, Bombay, you simply need to accept yourself as you are. Only then can true magic be learned. Only then can true magic happen!
Welcome to IITWW and Congratulations!
PS You will need to learn calculus though, it’s a myth too that wizardry and witchcraft don’t require the knowledge of calculus.