DEDICATED
TO my cousins Krithika and Kavya, who have helped me move past frequent
writer’s blocks.
DISCLAIMER
– this story is a parody of many earlier books written about magic and
magic-doers. It intends no harm or offense to the authors of such books and is
for pure entertainment. This being said, if you really want to sue me, there
would be no use as I am perennially broke.
*****
Though
dangerously close to crossing the line and falling into the well-known pit of
clichés, our story begins thus: it seemed like the start of an extraordinarily
normal day as the sun lazily stretched over the trees, spilling over the town
of Scanterville. A town rather strange, one might believe after a casual stroll
through the marketplace, almost always empty during Sundays. The reason for
this was that Sunday was when everyone slept through the day, occasionally
peeping out their windows to see if their neighbour’s pumpkins had outgrown
theirs.
However,
moving away from the more serious topic of pumpkins, the author was referring
to the inhabitants of this quaint little town. The one thing that separated
them from normal people (or rather what we would call normal) was that they
relied on magic for everything they did. So, while we baked our cakes and
brownies in ovens and microwaves, the people of Scanterville would mutter weird
sounds and wait for the brownies to appear. Yet even with differences as vast
as these, there were astounding similarities. While we ran around looking for
our car keys when we were late in the morning, they would run around looking
for their magical portals all the while muttering under their breath, “I could
have sworn I left it near my book of curses!”
Scanterville
looked exactly what a magical town should look like. Rows of jauntily built
houses lined the cobbled streets. Houses shaped like hexagons, trapeziums and
even amoebae were among the more normal-looking houses in the town, posed
precariously on their curves. Streets were well labelled because the houses
changed colour whenever they felt like and so did not make very reliable
landmarks.
The mayor
of this town was a certain Mr. Lingardo. He was a man of impressive stature,
towering over most of the town’s inhabitants. His enemies whispered that the
reason he won was his ability to persuade people to feel small and
insignificant. On the contrary, the mayor was a kind-hearted man, who loved the
town, kittens and romantic comedies featuring Meg Ryan. Most of the town
reciprocated this warmth – the people of Scanterville had a soft spot for a
well-dressed man. The mayor would never step out of his house without his pea
green top hat and his well-ironed lemon yellow overcoat.
Mr.
Lingardo, being a very important man, had employed a secretary to sort out his papers,
make his appointments and make him his favourite cappuccino. The only
difference in this employer-employee relationship was that his secretary made
the mayor his favourite cappuccino only when he was in a good mood. They were actually very good friends. This
secretary in question was a well-educated wizard who went by the name of
Marvin. He liked to be referred to as the mayor’s Organiser as he believed the
word ‘secretary’ was plain degrading.
Marvin’s
story so far was a rather interesting one. As a child, he had a rather wild
imagination that was only supplemented by his magical talent. His parents could
not remember a single day when they had not walked into the house only to be
confronted by a large talking turkey. Or something similar. Deciding to put his
talent to good use, Marvin’s parents sent him off to the best magical training
institute in the country. While Marvin was quite a good student, an unfortunate
incident during a Potions lesson left him Befuddled. In magical terms, a
Befuddled person has magical talent but finds it difficult to use it for the
purpose in mind. It is rather hard to function when the spell you cast on your
rose plant turns it into a Venus flytrap instead of making it bloom faster.
Cutting a
long story short, Marvin tried to open a business, which failed miserably and
was taken under the mayor’s wing, as he was well aware of Marvin’s wit and
quick thinking. Despite his various incidents that frequently made the mail
vanish, he soon built up a good reputation and people from all over the little
town would consult him on many matters.
One such
story took place, albeit on a Sunday, when a very distraught man sped through
the streets, unkemptly dressed and hanging onto his crimson hat with one hand.
The mayor’s butler found himself facing this man, who was breathless after his
run. In between gasps, the man asked to see the mayor as it was a matter of
utmost importance and could not be delayed. A few moments later, the man found
himself seated in the mayor’s office (as I previously said, the mayor was a
very generous and kind person) with a cup of tea in his hand. He explained that
someone had cast a spell on his sister, which had, apart from leading her to
flirt with the potted fern in their house, was making her create all sorts of
havoc in their home.
“What sort
of havoc?” asked Marvin, as he peeked out from under a pile of overdue
parchments. The man in the crimson hat turned towards him and spluttered, “She
keeps breaking things… the pots, pans, my unbreakable stone statue of Socrates…
It cost a fortune and the salesman said that it was humanly impossible to break
it! I just don’t know what to do…” Mr. Lingardo turned towards Marvin, an
inquisitive look on his face. Pushing the parchments aside, Marvin said, “Well,
it is something that is within my area of expertise but I will need your
permission to spend a few days at your house to determine the nature of the
spell. That will tell me exactly how to counter it.”
- “Certainly, sir!”
- “Please… Call me Marvin. You make me
sound like a dictatorial hogglepot.”
- “Alright, Marvin.”
- “However, I do have two questions.
Did you buy the statue within the past six months and was your television among
the debris?”
- “Yes! How could you know…?”
- “Because the warranty for your
statue lasts for six months alone. The scam was exposed a few days ago on news
stations all over the country. Apparently, no one bothers reading the fine
print. May I know what your name is, sir?”
The man in
the crimson hat looked stunned for a few moments and then regained his
composure, replying, “I’m Alvin Albright. So sorry I didn’t introduce myself
earlier. I was overwhelmed.” Mr. Lingardo waved it off, saying, “Nothing to
worry about. So, Marvin,” the mayor turned to his left, “how long will you need
to stay at Mr. Albright’s house?” “A day or two, I suppose.” The mayor sighed
and said, “Well, it looks like the butler will have to make my cappuccino
temporarily. But please hurry, he adds too much sugar and it keeps me up all
night.” Marvin nodded curtly. With a swift tug, he lifted his bag out of the
tussle of parchments and walked out the door.
*****
A shrill scream cut through the pleasant
morning and Marvin found himself jerked out of his sleep. A crash led him to
jump out of the guest bed in the Albright’s mansion and right into the
nightstand that he had somehow given the gift of speech during his slumber.
“Watch it, mate! The woman is running around like a wild horse already. God
knows when I’m next. I’d rather not die early!!” “So sorry, sir...” mumbled an
embarrassed Marvin as he valiantly tried to pull his clothes on. “Have some
decency, young man!” cried out the rug, another surprise beneficiary of
Marvin’s sleep talking, “ no one wants to see you half-naked.”
Another
crash and shriek pulled Marvin’s attention back. He hurriedly pulled on his
pants and he shoved the door open, only to drop to his knees, narrowly missing
being hit by a small vase. "It seems that the potted fern was carrying on
with the teapot in her absence!" yelled Mr. Albright, as he ducked to
avoid being hit by another flying saucer. As a petrified Marvin tried to
descend the stairs on his knees, his acrobatic feat was interrupted by a teapot
that shattered on the stair below him. "Looks like the competition has
been dealt with." he mumbled to himself. When he looked back at the scene
unfolding in the living room, he found the potted fern crumpled next to the
distraught lady. "So much for the love interest" Picking himself up,
Marvin yelled out as loud as he could, "Madame! If you would be so kind as
to tell me what your problem is, I could try helping you!"
She
looked around and on spotting the wizard behind the sofa, burst into tears,
saucepan in her hand. "I gave him everything he asked for!" she
bawled, "And what do I get in return? A broken heart while he carries on
with that wh..." "Alright, I think we've heard all that we need to
know - Madame, why don't you take a seat while your brother gets you a hot cup
of tea?" She nodded as she absent-mindedly dabbed her face using the corner
of the window drapes. "But she broke the tea..." said Mr. Albright,
only to be cut off by a wildly gesticulating Marvin. After Mr. Albright had
retreated to the kitchen, he proceeded to take his seat next to the distraught
young lady.
"There,
there, now..." he said as he awkwardly patted her head. Ms. Albright
continued to sob loudly, the saucepan lying idly on the floor. "I knew
about it for a while, you know," she said, in between sniffles, "but
I thought he would come back to me. I l-l-loved hi-him..." She burst into
tears again. Marvin fished around in his pockets for his handkerchief and
handed it to her. She blew noisily into it and Marvin made a mental note to
burn it after it had been returned. "Are you feeling better now?" he inquired.
Ms. Albright nodded. After a few moments of silence interrupted with a couple
of sniffles, she spoke, "But why did this happen to me? I gave him love,
sunshine and water and this is how he repays me?" Marvin nodded
sympathetically, a blank look on his face as he stared at the bookshelf.
It was at
this moment that he had a brilliant idea. He turned to the weeping woman and
said, "Madam, if I may shed some light on the matter, I believe that
potted ferns have always been rogues when it comes to love. In fact, their
inability to keep their attention focused on one person is well known. Have you
not heard the term 'a fern-like rogue'?" Ms. Albright shook her head and
he continued, "Well, it's a well-used phrase in the romantic novel circuit
usually describing the hero before he is changed for the better by the
heroine's love. Of course, everyone knows that you can never change a fern-like
rogue."
A quarter
of an hour passed and Mr. Albright walked in with their tea. Still mourning the
loss of half his kitchen, he was rather astonished to see his sister laughing
silently as Marvin continued speaking. "After the fire-and-whipped-cream
incident, the fern was then discretely disposed and the lady now lives happily
with vast expanses of money and good spirit. I must say that the teapot got the
worst of it in this case." She rocked to and fro, covering her mouth as
she laughed silently. On noticing her brother staring at the two of them, she
smiled and said, "Sit down, dear brother and wipe that look off your face.
No one likes a man who insists on looking like an idiot."
*****
"It
would please you to know," said the mayor, "that Mr. Albright called
on me at home yesterday and spoke very highly of you. His sister has been rid
of her unnatural obsession with plants and has taken up socialising once more.
In fact, just yesterday Ms. Shiverham told me that Ms. Albright had the
sharpest wit and tongue of all the girls at her dinner party last night. She
intends on calling on her and arranging an alliance with her son." Marvin
smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear that."
- "Go on, Marvin. How did you
pull it off?”
- “It was quite simple actually. I was
observing her bookcase and noticed that she was read copiously and had a taste
for romantic novels. All I did was capitalize on her tastes. When she asked me
where I had heard about such terms before, all I had to do was narrate one of Ms.
Lingardo’s novels.”
Mayor
Lingardo sighed and said, “She’s not going to like the sound of that. She
doesn’t know that I’ve shown you her manuscripts. Anyway, that can be handled.
So tell me, Marvin, what is it that your heart desires?”
- "Ah, it’s nothing..."
- "Good lord! I'm sure that there
must be something you want me to do!"
- "Well, there is one
thing..."
- "Then speak up! You’ve never
been this shy around me."
Marvin
looked at him hesitantly and then said, "Every time I try to make coffee,
the coffee machine swears at me in the most unsavoury language. It's starting
to disturb me." The mayor sighed again, "I'll find the reversal
spell but till then a set of earplugs may serve you well."
