Expecto Patronum

"A Patronus is a kind of positive force, and for the wizard who can conjure one, it works something like a shield, with the Dementor feeding on it, rather than him. In order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. Not just any memory, a very happy memory, a very powerful memory… Allow it to fill you up... lose yourself in it... then speak the incantation "Expecto Patronum"."  — Remus Lupin teaching Harry Potter the Patronus Charm

I often felt that J.K. Rowling actually wrote not for kids, but for adults. Kids were just a medium, a channel. Because; there are so many concepts in her Harry Potter series, which I think would appeal to adults at their level of maturity and understanding of the world , which kids never even might realize. Patronus is deceitfully one of them. 

We know Potter needs it .When Harry faces death ,or worse, through the Dementors sent by Lord Voldemort ( I am going to name him as much as I want), he summons his Patronus, a stag, a corporeal conjecture seemed to be made of silvery mist. But what exactly is a Patronus ? Its hard to define it in one sentence, may be because its simply a fancy name given to something that we know, something that we understand, something that we experience often , but can't describe. Just like "nostalgia"  or "deja vu" for instance. But somehow, I connected with concept  of Patronus  very deeply and personally . And on my recent trip to India, I suddenly realized what was my Patronus was all along . 

I have to thank the unexpected delays in India for this, which gave me time for some side projects.Long time ago, I had initiated an effort to digitise all the photos lying around in every nook and corner of  our house. There were numerous photos from the pre-digital age , dating back to my parents' marriage. I often asked my parents about their untimeliness and carelessness with maintaining the photos, and I used to get a very typical "parent" answer- " Photo chya mage laglo asto tar tumhala koni motha kela asta?"  literally translating into the fact that raising kids like us was such a herculean task, that it was a justification enough for every accusation of laziness on them. The fact that their wedding album was also not correctly done, with numerous loose photos lying everywhere, is a mystery I could not solve. 

It is unbelievable how much time consuming maintaining photos  is. Sort the loose photos, merge them with photos which already exist in the albums, scan all of them, arrange in logical folders on a computer, put them back in physical albums etc. So much, that it seems the task has just started. I couldn't even finish 20% of the task at hand before I left back for US. But though time consuming, I can assure you, it is one of the best nostalgic times one can ever have.

On one of the these slow afternoons, I was engrossed in enjoying pictures of me and my sisters' from our childhood. This photo session had all the elements in it- pictures of various birthdays, the various birthday cakes, the surprise at how our relatives looked back then, the surprise at how similar we looked , the surprise at how different we looked , the ridiculous clothes we wore back then (or were made to wear), and the amusement with the cool hairstyles we had back then. Everything really ! Shortly,my mom arrives home from her office. She enters our room, and sees that we are sitting in a heap of photos.  She knows what we are doing, but also curious at the same time. She nonchalantly walks to the heap and starts sampling the photos herself. She stops and stares at one of the photos. Its a photo of me, as a kid , who couldn't even walk. But I am smiling in that photo, as if I understand the reason for my parents' smiling back to me, back then when that photo was taken. She stares at it for some more time, but now she is not really looking at the photo. Her eyes are on it, but her mind seems to have wandered somewhere else. Her eyes slowly became moist. And then she cries. Failing miserably in hiding her emotions.She hugs me." Please don't leave me and go back" she says. There is pain and love in her voice. And then she cries even more. There is silence in the room, as I try to fight my tears . I want to cry aloud myself, but boys don't cry. 27 year olds certainly don't. Also her tight embrace is making it impossible to do so.

That very instant I realized ,that my Patronus are those childhood photos.

Looking at your own childhood photos is one of the most beautiful , but also, one of the most painful things to do. It is one of the hardest. May be because, old photos, not only freeze the time at that instant, but they also freeze the future at that instant. You can see your "then" envisioned future in those photos. You can see it in your eyes in the photo. You can see it in your smile. And a certain melancholy grips your mind, at the realization of how far away from that future  your current life has drifted away. At how hopeless and distraught your life really is.

Those Dementors feed on hopelessness, don't they? On unhappiness. On the drought in our life. On our wretchedness . On our fears. On our concerns. Our shortcomings. On our lack of faith. They essentially feed on the absence of love and hope in our life. They deprive us of our soul. They are soul eaters. Do these Dementors then, really need to be mythical creatures , a work of fiction? I think we can feel the effect of Dementors in our current frail life without too much effort, can't we?. And I think they are winning, and they are growing in numbers. Just think; how many of us, think we have enough love in our life? And how many of us, are continuously searching to get absorbed in some or the other form of love? And how few of us, realize the worth of the love that already exists in our lives?

We have let the Dementors chew away our soul. Job, money, relationships, failed relationships, degree,car, TV, bigger job, more money,another degree, bigger car, bigger TV. Really? Haven't these things somehow made us hopeless,and taken us away from that future? Haven't they made us enter a race we didn't really want to race, made us colder than we wanted to ? Made us fall in love with people and objects, from whom it would be stupid to expect love back. But still we do it. The real question is, is our cold life really an outcome of nothing else being possible? Why are we "acting", as if we are the unfortunate destiny's child, destined to face sorrow  and less than deserved love throughout our life? Why can't we just be happy? I think we have chosen to be unloved. May be because, it is relatively easier to glamorize the pain, and stay like that forever, instead of having the courage to have faith in the power of love, and face the pain fearlessly. I agree problems exist. Life is not easy. Its very trying at times. But it is no excuse to give up on hope and love. 

We need to fight these Dementors. May be, all we need to fight for is a continuous reminder of the love we are entitled to, one that sustains in the worst of scenarios. We need to trust it. Whenever I feel down, whenever I feel that the world has gotten to me, whenever I feel these metaphoric Dementors are feeding on me, I think of my childhood photos. I conjure them in front of my eyes. I conjure up the happy moment my parents might have had experienced when they had  lived through that moment , of me in those photos. I realize , that my mom had cried on seeing those photos of mine, because the memory of that infinite happiness was too overwhelming for her. Those tears were fluid love. May be she had also forgotten that she could be that happy. 

It changes my emotions in an instant. I feel good about my existence. It matters to me , that I matter to someone. It matters to me, that someone still loves me. It suddenly makes me feel human, and makes me realize that I have not grown so cold , so as to not experience my parents' love at all. It suddenly reminds me of what I am here for, and that the loved ones matter beyond anything else. It makes me feel the pain and efforts my parents willingly underwent in raising me. In making me what I am. It again makes me realize, that living for your loved ones is all that matters. It suddenly feels cheap and cowardly to make a fuss about my current problems. I suddenly see all the things my parents let go off, so that I get a better life. It is strange how someone else's sacrifices can empower you. I realize ,that no matter how hard I try , I cannot find anyone else who loves me like my parents. I then cheer myself up without thinking twice and face whatever comes my way. Because giving up would mean letting down my parents' love. 

And again, love wins.

We don't really need Rowling to tell us that, but she got it right. A mom's love for her kid is the only real magic. That Patronus, that photographic memory of happiness and hope, is so powerful, that it makes everything else wash away. It takes  away my worries . It often makes me cry, conjuring up the same fluid love in my eyes. Jolts me back to the vast fortune showered upon me. Pure, unadulterated unbiased love,  which works magically to provide strength. It is ultimately love, and the hope of it, that is making us survive. That is all there is to the idea of Patronus. It is the belief in the power of love.

I am convinced my Patronus are my childhood photos. And that gleam in my eye, which shines almost as if to commemorate the love in that picture.  Its the future from the past that you want to hold on to. That you want to make come true. Because, somehow ,it feels that ,that future gets corrupted and ripped apart day after day.

They say photos speak a thousand words. Yes, photography has that power. But I think old photos speak even  more. They probably even utter a few spells. We should all pledge to not let the Dementors win.We should all find our Patronuses- it could be a song,a photo,a kiss, the emotion behind it, a person, an object , a thought- we all need it.Tap into the magic that is- for it is indeed around us , and for us to use. Because we are all really just wizards.

Allow it to fill you up... lose yourself in it... then speak the incantation "Expecto Patronum" !

29th June 2011

Nachiket Mehta

Note: Not quite the photos in question, but some memories from my side project :-

The Wannabe Black

The Old "Faithful"

The Good Boy