Once a Potterhead, Always a Potterhead

 

How many of you like the Harry Potter franchise?

Wait, what a question, right? For people of my age, it almost feels a little inappropriate to even ask. We didn’t just like Harry Potter — we grew up with it. Okay, maybe a little late, but the magic found its way to us eventually.

My own Harry Potter journey started during my college days in Chennai. I still remember the one who introduced me to it — Priya from Bhilai, Chhattisgarh (she always introduced herself that way in our early classes). My darling Priya. A warm, bookish girl with an infectious love for fantasy. I, a girl from a remote village in Kerala, was still stuck in a world of classics, Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Diary of Anne Frank, and Tom Sawyer — the books my teachers introduced me to back in school. I knew very little about English literature beyond that.

Then came college — where everyone around me seemed to be mini literary critics. Friends who devoured books like snacks, who spoke intelligently, who always had an opinion. At first, I felt like I didn’t belong. But slowly, I found my place among them.

And then came Harry Potter.

Can you believe there was a time we pre-ordered those books and waited — not so patiently — for them to arrive? We even tried to avoid spoilers, sometimes flipping to the last pages just to ease the anxiety. I still remember how I felt when Hedwig died — crushed. And when Voldemort was finally defeated — oh, such joy! But I never quite liked that Harry married Ginny Weasley. I know, I know… funny, right? I still grumble about it sometimes. But I loved the name of Harry’s son. That felt just right.

So why this sudden burst of Harry Potter nostalgia?

Well, the other day I took my daughter to Miniso, and there it was — an entire section filled with Harry Potter merchandise. Keychains, spell books, hats, scarves, water bottles with Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw engraved on them. And oh, the diaries. There was even a miniature of the scarf Harry wore. My heart skipped a beat. That old love came rushing back. I wanted to buy everything. I really did.

But then came the voice of the grown-up inside me — You’re not a teenager anymore. So, I very cleverly suggested my daughter, Panchu, pick a diary and a water bottle. She chose a beautiful one — a diary I secretly wished to keep for myself.

Later that night, Panchu brought the diary to me.
“Mamma, you can take it. I’ll end up spoiling it like all my other books. You can use it. Maybe even write your PhD stuff in it,” she said with her usual sparkle.

I was on cloud nine.

But I said, “No need, Panchu.”

She insisted. She knew. And finally, I accepted. I couldn’t resist. The diary now sits with me. I still haven’t written anything in it — I don’t want to spoil it either. Maybe I never will. It’s just there, reminding me of who I was, who I still am deep inside.

A dreamer. A child. A girl who still lives in fantasy.

Want to know a secret? My old blog once had tons of Harry Potter images on it. Later, I removed them thinking it looked too childish. I wonder if any hidden corners still hold a few... Accio embarrassment! 😂

But now I know — that love was never childish. It was magic. And some magic, we carry with us forever.

So here I am, a grown-up with a child’s heart, holding onto a diary that means more than it looks. A symbol of wonder, friendship, and dreams that once shaped me — and still do.

Because truly…
Once a Potterhead, Always a Potterhead.

Vincadium Leviosa! ✨
(May our memories rise and float like feathers in the wind.)

Tea Trails, Forest Whispers and Curvy Roads: A Journey Through the Wild Green

Some road trips exhaust you, but others stir something deep within—an old memory, a quiet joy, a sense of wonder. 

We set off on a long-awaited drive through a landscape that felt like a moving painting. The route? Athirapally – Malakkapara – Valparai – Pollachi. A much-loved trail that reels on Instagram make look like a dream—and it truly is. For almost three hours, we drove through dense, emerald-green forests. Trees arched overhead, light filtered through the leaves, and you couldn’t help but fall silent. Then came three more hours of rolling tea plantations, neatly manicured and endlessly beautiful.  

The road was narrow, twisting, full of hairpins and steep turns, but that was exactly what made it magical. It was this very route that caught the attention of Anu Miss—and sparked the idea for this trip.

Let me tell you a little about her. Anu Miss isn’t just a teacher—she’s an explorer at heart. A thoughtful, intelligent soul who’s deeply in love with forests. Maybe that’s why she chose zoology as her path. She finds joy in the wilderness, and that love is infectious. Even though we come from completely different wavelengths, we connect beautifully. Perhaps it’s the contrast that makes the bond work. She's the one who planted in me a deeper appreciation for forests, treks, and everything green.

This was our third trip together, and each time, it feels like I learn a little more—not just about the world, but about myself.

But to be honest, I think this love was already inside me—just waiting to be reawakened.

You see, I grew up in a remote, hilly village in Kerala, where nothing was flat. If you wanted to reach my mother’s house, you'd have to take a narrow, bumpy road winding through the hills. Exploring was just a part of daily life. As kids, we didn’t need a map or a plan—just a pair of chappals and a sense of curiosity.

I think this love for exploration was in my blood. As kids, we had the co-operative bank’s annual trips, and that gave us the chance to see almost all of South India before we even grew up. We were lucky.

But my first true adventures were closer to home. My uncle’s rubber plantation was like our private forest. We’d often see wild rabbits darting between trees, and our imaginations would run wild. My ammacha (uncle) was a licensed hunter and had two rifles. My brother used to tag along with him. They’d return early in the morning, rifles slung and a small animal in hand—dinner for the day. I don’t know if all those stories were real, but they fascinated me.

My first official hike? I was in fifth grade. It was a school trip as part of Scouts and Guides, to a small hill near our school. But oh, the feeling of reaching the top! That pride—it was like I had conquered Mount Everest. 😄 That emotion never really leaves you. Every time I hike now, I feel the same thrill.

Because hiking isn't just about reaching the destination. It's about the struggle, the breathless moments, the aching legs—and finally, that rewarding view. The stillness. The calm. The sense of inner peace that nothing else quite gives.

Today’s road trip brought back a flood of memories—of hills climbed, treks taken, stories shared, and childhood dreams. The forests, the tea trails, the winding roads—all of it was breathtaking. But between you and me... as much as I enjoyed the scenic ride, I still believe hiking—conquering hills with your own two feet—is far more rewarding than just sitting inside a vehicle and passing through it all. There’s a different kind of magic in the climb—a sense of achievement that no road trip can quite match.

And here’s a little confession—somewhere in the middle of all that natural beauty, I dozed off in the Tempo Traveller. That’s the thing about long drives—they can be oddly tiring. After a while, even the most beautiful views begin to blur.

So yes, while I loved the route and the company, I’ll say it out loud:

No to road trips. Yes to hikes.

If you truly want to feel the wilderness—to breathe it, live it, become part of it—walk, walk, walk.

Because in the end, it’s the climb that stays with you.

(Just don’t tell **Anu Miss** 😄)