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

Encounters of the Elite Kind

Sometimes, the most interesting experiences happen, in the most commonplace circumstances. Thats why probably one remembers them so much. This incident started at Quiznos at the Minneapolis airport , and ended at Newark airport's baggage claim. Now, Minneapolis and Newark might be somewhat interesting, but  me ,Quiznos  and the baggage claim, were most definitely the most commonplace things  of all. And in that order.The most interesting of all these, was a person by the name  of Azim Premji, head of Wipro. Here's how it went, completely unexpected.

I had an hour before I boarded a flight to Newark, so I went to Quiznos, ordered a sub, and sat there eating happily. After a while, I saw  two gentlemen standing in the Quiznos line, in front of me, facing me. They were suited, and had a air of command around them. They seemed very out of place at Quiznos. I could not help noticing them, because they were right in front of where I was seated. It struck me, the familiarity of the face of one of them, who would later turn out to be Mr. Azim Premji himself. I thought of him, and I discarded the thought, arguing  that why would the head of Wipro be in a Quiznos line? For the uninitiated, Mr. Azim Premji, , with a net worth of 17 billion $, is one of the biggest business stalwarts from India. I thought that even his driver's servant probably would own a Quiznos. He has no business being there. !!

But the thought did not go away. I finally turned to the always reliable iPhone ( iPhone Use # 1), and did an image search on Azim Premji. Opened a full blown picture of his face, and compared inch by inch to make sure that I was not mistaken. There he was, right in front of me, unmistakably like the picture on my iPhone. I decided it was worth taking a chance. I quickly dumped what I was eating and ran to the restroom right in front of Quiznos. Cleaned my face of any bread crumbs and tidied myself. I was thinking of some paper to get his autograph on, and I decided to use my business card. I even kept a pen ready. I was thinking, that if he is indeed Mr. Azim Premji, I want to say a  hello, and get his autograph at least.

By the time I returned to Quiznos, the two gentlemen had moved to the exit of the line, and were collecting their subs. I hurried ahead and started talking. to Mr. Premji.  

NM:                       "Excuse me sir, are you from India ?"

AP:                        "Yes I am " . (check #1 )

NM( half smiling ):   "Do you happen to be Mr. Azim Premji ?"

AP(smiling ):           "Yes" (confirmed)

NM (elated)            "Its my privilege to meet you Sir.
                               I did not believe it was you initially"

AP(smiling):             "Well do you believe now?"

(Laughter Laughter)

I asked him if he can give me an autograph. He agreed.He asked my name. I told him and I gave him my business card to write on, backside up, as I thought he would use the blank space, but he turned it the right way, and read my name. He then wrote on the same side "Dear Nachiket , All the Best- Signed AP".. I told him that  a lot of our family members are from Amalner, the place where Wipro was formed, as a soap company at that time.He exclaimed "Small world, eh?" and laughed.

I wanted to have a photograph taken with him, but he had gone  ahead to eat his sub, along with Rajiv, the other person with him. I later came to know who Rajiv was.He seemed to be his right hand man. All this while, some other Indians recognized that he was someone important, and some actually recognized him too. I was happy that I got this chance. I ran for my flight. I immediately clicked the photograph of the signed business card, and emailed it to myself, as a backup. (iPhone use # 2) .I posted this incident  to Facebook. Amen. 

I did not expect anything else to happen. Right when almost everyone was seated, I saw Mr. Premji  walk in my flight. I was pleasantly surprised, but more so, when he sat in economy. I wondered why. I thought he probably did not get a first class ticket, but it seemed unreasonable that these people do not plan so ahead of time, as to not get a ticket. I kept wondering. I tried to search for "his men", to see where they were seated. I couldn't see any.Thats when I saw a post from my friend Varun ( still hadn't shut of the iPhone), asking me if Mr. Premji  was seated in the economy class, as he is known to do. Thats when I realized that Mr. Premji is known to do that. To set an example may be. Whatever it was, I thought it was a good move.For me at least that day :) I was in 17D. He was in 14A.

The flight was pretty uneventful. He was sleeping most of the time. The Newark part is much more interesting. After boarding out of the flight, I went to the restroom. I was already happy that I met him, and I would have a story to tell to my sister, whom I was visiting.I was washing my hand at the sink, when he walked in. I kept washing my hands.He came to the sink next to me. I still kept washing my hands. I wanted to see if I have one more chance of a conversation. But the place seemed inappropriate.

We both turned toward the towel machine. Now, this might sound weird, but this machine has an important part to play. The machine was not automatic, and it did not have a clear lever to force the paper out. The lever was part of the front plastic panel itself, and because it was the same color, it was hard to make out the lever from the machine.I could , he could not.I operated the lever for him. He said thanks, and we both walked out of there. After this newly formed acquaintance, I was a bit more confident of talking to him. I was surprised that he did not have anyone else walking with him. I grabbed this chance , and started talking to him. .Some excerpts from what we talked.

I said "Sir, can I ask you a personal question ?", AP said "Depends on what the question is" and laughed. I asked."I always wondered if you were a Gujarathi?" . The reason I asked this was because I knew, Amalner (MH), one of the roots of Wipro, is densely populated by Gujurathis. He said "Well, I am from the Kutch region.So yes, I am a Gujarathi. I understand, but I do not speak much. ". I told him my family was from Gujurat too, even though I am from Pune. He asked from where. I told him Mehsana. he asked me if it was near to Surat. I told him it was probably nearer to Baroda.

He then asked me what I do. I told him I was a Systems Engineer at St.Jude Medical, a medical device manufacturing company in Minneapolis. He asked me what does St.Jude do. I told him we make devices to correct arrhythmias of the heart.I told him that I had worked in the IT sector in India, at TCS for a while before I came here for higher education. I told him that I am an electrical engineer by background. He then exclaimed  "I am an electrical engineer too. Remember, there are only two kinds of people in the world. One, who are electrical engineers, and others , who aspire to be ".

The identity crisis-ed electrical engineer in me wept and finally rested in peace.I told him that I will remember that line forever. I even told him, that my roommate used to work at Wipro, and he also got some kind of award from him (Neeraj Gaur). I told him, that probably,  even though I might look too young to comment, but if it does count towards anything, we the youth of India were very proud of what he did, and wished him success towards his every other endeavor.He said he really appreciates the compliment and thanked me. I had said this as I sensed these would be my final words. As ahead, down a small escalator, I saw a person waiting with "WIPRO" banner, obviously to receive him. Once there, I joked, "So, it seems here's where we part  Sir. It was nice meeting you ". He laughed too. I went towards baggage claim. I saw that he spoke something to the person who came to receive, and it seemed something to the effect that he would receive his bag, and join him, and he told the person to wait outside. He started walking towards the baggage claim, where I was already waiting.

I was delighted at some extra time with him. The story even gets better now. He wanted to read the flight number on the baggage claim carousel. He tried to find his glasses. He searched in his jacket, and then he searched in his executive bag. He couldn't find it. He was suddenly worried. He handed me his baggage claim ticket, and asked me if I could verify if that carousel was ours. He was still searching for his glasses. He then exclaimed that he must have left them in the flight. He was telling me that this is the first time he has checked in a bag for such a flight. He also told me that he usually never sleeps in the flight.He was visibly worried. He said he cannot read anything without his glasses. He mentioned he probably left them on his seat in the flight.

I offered to help him. I told him, that if he does not mind, I can run back to the flight and search for it. He looked at me and considered my offer. He said "Can you really do that?". I said "Of course, I will run and be back soon". I gave him my carry on backpack to watch, and I ran. That was the best sprint of my life. I went back through the escalator, through the walk ways towards the flight.

Now, I was so excited, that I did not know and read the sign, that I cannot enter back. Its a "Exit only" zone.I accidentally ran a few steps inside that area, before the attendant there shouted and stopped me. She did not understand why would anyone break that security line. I told her that I was looking for glasses. I just came from a flight from Minneapolis , and the glasses might still be in the flight. She told me she cannot let me go beyond that point. At that time, the pilot of our flight was exiting from there, stopped and asked what was happening. Even before I could speak, he asked me "Are you looking for a pair of glasses? ". I said "yes, they are my uncle's. He was on 14A". The pilot spoke to the attendant and told her, that he knows that I was in his flight (we had exchanged greetings while exiting, and he was a funny pilot, full of jokes), and offered to take me to the flight, so that I go under supervision. I was surprised by her reply. She told him she cannot even let him go back.!

Now another attendant came up and asked what was happening. He and the pilot spoke. The attendant then offered to go and search for the glasses. He said that he would send them down the baggage claim, in a tray. He asked me for my  "uncle's " seat number, and I told him 14A. I ran back to the waiting Mr. Azim Premji. 

Now, while we were waiting for the baggage carousel to start, I asked him, sensing my last chance, for a photograph. He did not seem to mind it. I found a guy next to me, and asked him if he can use an iPhone ( dind't want a single opportunity I had got , to give me a blurred picture). He said yes, and took a picture of me and Mr. Premji next. I thanked AP a lot for that. I joked, that this is so precious, and this is going to make me famous on Facebook. We both laughed.

I got a couple of calls from my sister  asking if I was done, and if I got my bag. I told her that I was still waiting. I did not mention about AP, because I was talking in Gujarathi, and I thought he would not like me mentioning him. We talked about a few more things. I asked him where is he usually stationed, and he mentioned Bangalore.Thats when we heard an announcement for the "party who has lost their glasses" to come see the Delta office. I found where the office was, and we both walked towards it. There was a different person inside, and they said they had the glasses with them instead of sending it through the baggage carousal. He handed the glasses to AP, and mentioned that "one certain gentleman" almost broke security to retrieve them. I was behind him, and I smiled. I raised my hand to him, and exclaimed guiltily "That would be me " . He then mentioned that they found it , not on the seat, but in the restroom.

We both came out of the office, and by that time, some more people had recognized him. They handed me their cameras this time, to click a picture. I joked "Oh....you got him with his glasses on ". Later, we both walked back to the baggage carousel, which had started by then. I got my bag, and he was still waiting for his. I wished him all the best for the rest of his journey. I asked him if he is heading back to India. He mentioned he is in New York for 4 more days , before he heads back. I once again told him it was my pleasure meeting him, and I would always remember it. He mentioned that he really wanted to thank me, for what I did, and that he really appreciates the gesture. We smiled and parted. I emailed that picture to myself immediately.(iPhone use # 3, in 3 hours). Met my sister outside. She asked "What took you so long?" . I smiled. I had a story to tell.

So, that was my encounter. Bucket list item # 37. "Meet an iconic celebrity at the airport, click a picture and get an autograph". Check. 

Seat #'s 14A and 17D :)

Nachiket Mehta

7th Day of Sept 2010.