It's a kind of Magic

I've always been enamoured by magic. 

I grew up watching David Copperfield on TV and always wished someone would teach me some cool tricks.

I wouldn't have even minded being the assistant who smiles and waves and gets cut up into pieces.

But, as a child, all I could do was one card trick which I was taught to do by my grandfather.

And that wasn't enough to put on a show.

I've watched a bit of Criss Angel Mindfreak. 

You'd think he'd be smart enough to come up with something better than Mindfreak.

But he isn't.

If I was a cool magician I would've thought of a better name.

Like Neha Kamath Magic Woman.

Ok that's lame too.

But, then again I don't have my own show so I don't need to be giving that any more thought.

I've always wanted to watch a magician Live.

About 8 years ago, I watched David Blaine sit in a suspended glass box near London's Tower Bridge. He starved himself for 44 days.

Was that magic? I don't know.

Then a few years ago, I went for a show by P.C. Sorcar and sat in the auditorium among many children.

He is the only Indian magician I can think of.

And when I saw the ad about his show in the newspaper, I dragged my mother and sister and went to watch the show with a lot of enthusiasm.

Unfortunately his most exciting tricks were the usual cutting a woman into many pieces and what he called Water of India - a jug with a neverending supply of water which he keeps pouring out of through the entire show.

I had read about how he had made an elephant disappear and was looking forward to watching something like that happening before my eyes and so I left the show slightly disappointed.

And then my sister burst my already small bubble of excitement by explaining each magic trick to me.

I don't know how I was stupid enough to miss it but someone was actually re-filling the Water of India jug behind the curtain.

Hmph.

A few years went by and I watched movies like The Prestige and The Illusionist and my expectations were skyrocketing.

Still waiting for that perfect show.

And then today I heard Cyril Takayama was going to be performing 5 minutes away from my house and I made sure I was there.
All he did was stand mid-air on nothing and the only support he had was an AXN banner on a street light that he had one hand up against.
And the whole time I was wondering what he'd do if a crow pooped on him.
Luckily for Cyril Murphy's Law was taking the day off.

He seemed quite pleasant and pretended to like the Indian people who made anything but a good crowd.
I stood there not far from where he was for about an hour in amazement.

And then my sister came along and made me believe that his hand was fake and he was held together by some sort of device that attached his torso to the fake arm which he covered up with a jacket.

I tried to ignore it.

Then I thought to myself that even though summer may be over in Bombay, on a hot day like today why would anyone wear a jacket? What was Cyril trying to hide?

And then I chose to ignore it.

I like the idea of magic.
Any kind of magic.
The mystery in the unknown and unexplainable makes life just a little more interesting.
Don't you think?

And as Roald Dahl said,

Those who don't believe in magic, will never find it.