Black Magic

October 25, 2016

Truth may sound stranger than fiction – what if I told you all. Each and everyone of us have the power to weave either a good or bad spell?

Words believe it or not have power. When you say something, whether you intentionally charge it with intent, or whether you say it casually, the truth is that once it leaves your mouth, the words you utter takes on a trajectory of it’s own.

Be extremely careful of the narrative you have in your head and the narrative you tell to others, because that narrative becomes your reality, your interface with the world.

You have the power to write the story by any way you want. You have all the creative license to string events into a narrative where you cast yourself as the misunderstood victim, or you could cast yourself as the hero on a personal journey to transcend obstacles and to use these obstacles as opportunities to evolve into a better version of yourself.

Our words have power. This power is inherent in all of us. We just need to learn to harness this power.


‘During my average miserably university days. I can recall distinctly one incident that transpired between me and what I can only describe as an insecure mathematics lecturer who had a penchant of finding fault with me. Could be I always made it a point to be late. Or maybe it was simply my habit of dozing off during his lectures. This chap had a habit of calling me an idiot publicly. One day when he splayed out an unnecessarily lengthy equation on the black board. I yawned quite loudly. He took offense and singled me out for a direct attack and publicly challenged me to come forward and share with the entire class how I could best resolve the equation – to which I obliged with great delight by reducing his wind bag account that took a whole black board and a bit more into an elegant equation that could have fitted into a postage stamp.

The entire class was spell bounded. You could even hear a pin drop. Not that I cared.

I promptly rub it off much to the consternation of all – and wrote it all out on a piece of paper. Thereafter I crumpled it up and threw it into the dustbin.

Later on when the class emptied out, I stayed on. I knew he would return like a rat and rummage thru the dustbin. I knew. I even relished it. You could even say I derived a perverse pleasure of watching him do so. And he did. After that day he never called me an idiot again.

Never! Some people it seems need to be educated. Or maybe I should say one should always learn how to break evil spells.’

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