Master of Death — Story behind something huge.

Master of Death

Becoming the Master of Death.

If you’re a Harry Potter fan, then brace yourself and skip the next few paragraphs.(You can still read the quoted story to get nostalgic.) But in case you’re a muggle, I’m sorry but you’ll have to read the next few paragraphs to really get the depth of what I’m about to reveal.

Have you seen the symbol before?

If your answer’s yes, then skip to the quoted story. If no:
Popularly known as “The Deathly Hallows”. Rooted from the Wizardry World presented to muggles(humans) by J.K Rowling. The symbol is a representation of the three gifts given by Death, itself, to three brothers.(Don’t worry you’ll understand everything in the story.) The triangle is the Invisibility Cloak. The in-circle is the Resurrection Stone. The median is the Elder Wand.

Do you know what they really mean?

If your answer’s yes, then why the heck are you wasting your time reading this? I told you to skip to the QUOTED STORY. You’re still reading this, aren’t you? Your waste anyway. So here’s the story, in the words of  Beedle the Bard.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard 

Three brothers, travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight reached a deep treacherous river where anyone who attempted to swim or wade would drown. Learned in the magical arts, the brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceed to cross.

The Peverell brothers receive the items, and then go their separate ways to meet their fates

Halfway though the bridge, a hooded figure stood before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death, cheated of his due. Death cunningly pretended to congratulate them and proceeds to award them with gifts of their own choosing.

 

The eldest brother, a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence. Death granted his wish by fashioning the Elder Wand from a branch of a nearby elder tree standing on the banks of the river.

 

The second brother, an arrogant man, chose to further humiliate death, and asked for the power to recall the deceased from the grave. Death granted his wish by crafting the Resurrection Stone from a stone picked from the riverbank. The third and youngest brother, who was the most humble and wise, did not trust Death and asked for something to enable him to go forth without Death being able to follow. A reluctant Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Invisibility Cloak.

 

The three brothers took their prizes and soon went on their separate ways.

 

The eldest brother traveled to a village where a wizard whom he had quarreled lived. He sought out a duel and fought the wizard using the wand, instantly killing the latter.

 

Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the eldest brother walked to an inn not far from the duelling site and spent the night there. Taken by his conscience and lust of the Elder Wand’s power, the eldest brother boasted of this wand gifted by Death and his own invincibility.

 

That very night, Death transfigured to a murderous wizard. The unknown murderous wizard crept to the inn as the eldest brother slept, drunk from wine. The wizard slit the oldest brother’s throat for good measure and stole the wand. That was when Death took the first brother.

“Greeting Death as an old friend, they departed this life as equals.”

 

The second brother returned to his home where he lived alone. Turning the stone thrice in his hand the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him, much to his delight. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, committed suicide by hanging from his house’ balcony so as truly to join her. That was when Death took the second brother for his own.

 

Death searched for the youngest brother as years passed but never succeeded. It was only when the third brother reached a great age, he took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son.

 

“Greeting Death as an old friend, they departed this life as equals.”

SO, now that you know what it means in the story here’s a little meaning of it from my side. The triangle resembles Success-and-Failure. The Circle represents Happiness-and-Sadness while the line is made of challenges, obstacles and difficulties we face and thus divides everything equally on both sides.

Still wondering what my point is? It is that, since I’ve been a deep admirer and a lover of wizardry world I carved it under my skin.

YES, I INKED THE DEATHLY HALLOWS ON ME. I am the FREAKING MASTER OF DEATH. :’)

There are a lot of things to be tattooed on me, but I wanted this to be my first in order to depict how much it really means to me. Here’s the video of it magically turning from a messy design to a satisfying symbol of deathly hallows.

Let me know what you feel about the tattoo! And if there’s any problem loading the video, check it out on Facebook: Here!

Love Harry Potter? Check this out! The Rants of a Lost Wizard (A Poem)

Captioning Photographs

captioning photograph

Pre-Script:

If you’re a writer and you’ve got friends who do photography or, well, post any kinda posts you’ve heard this:
“Bhai is photo pe caption dede”
Translation: Bro, give me a caption for this photograph.

A few months ago, I did this:-

Jokes apart, the sole reason I do it is, I get a good subject to write upon. So, it’s kinda a thank you note to those photographers who have given me such great subjects to write upon. The amount of amazing shots that I’ve seen, inspired me to try photography myself. (Obviously on my phone, I’ll show it to you, soon.)
Here are two of the recent photos that I wrote a caption for and they’ve left me perplexed!
They’ve perfect lighting, The perfect feel and the perfect message.
Please make sure you see the amazing instagram feed of these photographers and I assure you, the job of blowing your mind will be done by their work.

Flowing Water — by Ameya Parab (@photo_scopic)

captioning photograph
Over the course of time, a strong rock may not be moved by the stream but it’s edges, for sure, would give way to the mighty droplets to flow ❤

A passionate photographer of the nature and potraits alike, Ameya, is an enthusiast who always carries his camera everywhere he goes. There’s rarely an occasion that I’ve seen him without his camera and he’s always behind the lens.

Camera Man — by Akash Nair(@akxshn)

captioning photographs
Walk barefooted on the dirt.
Capture strange things.
Talk to strange faces.
Hug the paved roads.
Kiss every rain’s droplet.
Burn in the nature’s oven.
That’s all he does & That’s all we should.

Isn’t this a masterpiece? A camera man resting on a pavement near the Gateway of India with his album open in front of him. The perfect timed shot is somehow very meaningful and so is the caption! I wonder how talented is the guy who wrote it. XD Just kidding! Check out Akash’s insta feed for more such masterpieces!

Original Idea for “Minimalism” — by Omkar Borade(@omkarborade)

captioning photograph
Captured on a Camera Phone!

I can’t believe it, either! Omkar sure does prove that camera phones can do wonders if used right. Don’t forget to check out his gallery, he has tons of amazing CAMERA PHONE shots!
Warning: NOOB CONTENT AHEAD.

captioning photograph
Crows on a wire
captioning photograph
IDK what this is called, Evolved version of a simple streetlight? XD
captioning photographs
Simple Streetlight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


All the images are subject to copyright. If reused please make sure you give the credits to the rightful owners.
AND I don’t own the first 3 amazing shots. I can only click the once at the bottom xD.

Adios!

 

 

One down, Three to go.

Me after completing engineering finals

Pre-Script: I am feeling what every Lord of the Rings character felt at the end. ” IT’S FINALLY OVER!! “

Hello Lovely Readers! How have y’all been?
I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted or even interacted on your blogs— and I’m extremely sorry for that.— but that was all because of the month-long torture of my first year engineering finals!

It’s a relief to finally complete the first year of engineering and be back to posting regularly. Yes, regularly! Though I didn’t post anything, I didn’t stop writing so there’s a lot of stories held up! Also, the untimely delay of letters from Awan Alee’s diary will resume! If you haven’t read the previous entries, read them here: The Secret Sister of Awan Alee.

Maybe my absence didn’t affect much but I’ll make sure my presence is noted! So, you’ll surely find me reading your blogs soon, but if you don’t, please remind me to check ’em out.

Another news I’d like to announce is about the Instagram page that I recently started, so be sure to check it out if you haven’t already.
Ah, it’s such a bliss. Adios!

Yours,
Fabler.

A Mother’s Wisdom

An hour past midnight.

The cold winter winds blew in through the open window & I tightened my grip on the blanket.

My room’s door was shut, the phone placed on my ear turned static. I couldn’t believe the words I just listened to.
“It’s over. I can’t be with you.”

The sentence screamed in my mind and I realized it isn’t a dream. A sudden gasp left my mouth followed by loud sobbing. I knew everyone’s asleep so I muffled my mouth in the blanket.
10 minutes. 15… 20… 30… An hour… Two? Or more? I don’t remember how & when I fell asleep. 

A heavenly morning.

All I remember is the next day my room’s door was ajar, the sunlight warming my cold face and illuminating the room with a shade of white. Everything else stood as still as it was last night, only more brighter than ever.

I wondered if I were dreaming it.
“Good morning, Alfred.” Ah, no. Not a dream. I heived a sigh as my mother entered the room.
“Good-” I choked as I witnessed my mother levitate like a feather, her feet didn’t touch the pale ground.
A halo floated over her head.
An angel.
“Shh. Calm down, Al.”
“Am I-?”
“No, you’re not dreaming. Here, I brought you nectar, it’ll ease your wounds.”
“I have no wounds.” A little pound in my heart reminded me its state. “Except for my broken heart.”
“It is for those broken pieces.” Her smile radiated happiness. Though an angel, she’s still my naïve, caring mother. I suppressed a laugh and took the silver glass.

As I touched the liquid with my tongue, I recoiled. It’s bitterness was unbearable and everything twisted and turned like a hurricane.

A bright day.

“Easy there. Sit straight, Al.” It was my mother, again. Now in her human form. I gulped down the nectar, ignoring it’s taste and I felt better.
My body, which couldn’t stop shivering, now seemed to have finally got a grip & calmed down.
“You’ll feel better.” My humanly mother, said.
“Was it a dream?”
“I reckon you were dreaming, heard you talking in sleep. Last night, you left the window open and when I entered your room, you were burning hot with fever. Tried keeping the temperature down with a wet cloth but I think my grandma’s magic soup still works the best.” Her laugh was melodic. “I overheard you last night, sorry. But it’s going to be alright, you know.”
I gave her a puzzled look, realizing only her angelic part was a dream. The tragic call was a reality.

“If people in your life want to stay, they will stay even if they have a million reasons not to. But when they don’t want to, they’ll make reasons of their own. Don’t feel bad for what happened, Al. You couldn’t change her decision. You loved her, truly, I know. Yet you are far too young to keep mourning. As you’ll grow, people will take leave from your life at every nodes. They’ll change their paths and bid you farewell. And when they do, you can’t hold on to them or you’ll lose your own balance. Get well soon, honey. I’m always there for you, a door away.”

“Mom” I called her as she stood up to leave. “Happy mother’s day.”


Post Script:

First of all, I’d love to wish a very very Happy Mother’s Day to every angel. There’s something truly heavenly about them which is why they need to respected & loved & reminded of it, everyday. :’)

Second of all, I’d like to apologize for not posting often these days. Also, The Secret Sister of Awan Alee, is at hold due to my examinations. But I promise once the exams are done I’ll be back with daily posts as usual & complete the series!

©The Honest Fabler

©Image Source – Google Images

I’m blue, I’m beautiful!

Is that what we wake up to every day?

From time immemorial, appearance has been foremost in humans’ mind. Humans are judged by their physical appearance. Thus, it is not surprising to witness mankind, especially women from all walks of life desperately try any means possible to achieve the perfect beauty.

However, beauty provides a perceptual experience of pleasure and happiness. It has no relation to features of our face or body, but rather character traits and qualities.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly lies to the bone.

Beauty dies and fades away, but ugly holds its own! Create and cultivate inner beauty that never fades away but grows and matures with time!
Especially women in our society need to realize this fact and change our perception of the way we see beauty. What should be regarded as requisite in someone? It could be their pleasant character traits, or some might name it as the word soul.

People with inner beauty are those that love to make peace with everyone, take care of fellow beings and try to follow the path of justice and the light of wisdom.

As beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, thus it will not be defined or appraised as easily. We always have to be a first-rate version of ourself. Once an Italian painter said,

The summation of the parts working together in such a way that nothing needs to be added, taken away or altered, and that’s you.

You are beautiful.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Images

ZODIAC PROGNOSIS

The life of a being in one round chapter.

If you are frightened of dying & still holding on, you will see devils tearing your life away.
But if you have made your peace,
then the angels will retaliate and the devils will ask for mercy, freeing you from the earth.
The fact people are taking a horoscope post so serious is comical.
Horoscopes don’t determine the way a person acts and treats people.

I’m a Leo and according to “moderate believer” we are the devils.
Personally I wear my heart on my sleeve and bend over backwards for good people. It’s all about our heart and mind and the way we act within.

As mentioned by Victor Hugo:

“How can one possibly believe, that every ray of a star is a thread attached to a man’s head?”

We shall overrule our stars and have a greater influence upon planets of the firmament .
Astrology relies heavily on our “selective memory”, a tendency to remember successful “predictions” and forget missed predictions.
Play your Celestial variables, we all are angels if we act like one.


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Imagess

13 Reasons Why.

There was a time when she was ashamed.

Ashamed to step out of the door.

To be judged by those eyes.

To be looked at, by those who owned the eyes.

She didn’t hate the dresses her mom chose for her, she hated wearing her own skin.

She didn’t hate being called a “slut” or a “whiny bitch”, she hated her own name.

Yet she survived.

She survived the mess her life had become, she got back up everytime she was let down.

She fought her own demons and untangled her tangled strings.

But for how long?

For how long would a heart crave for love?

For how long would a heart crave for someone to see through the window amidst the walls, built by itself?

How long….?

Post Script:

The story of Hannah Baker, live and in stereo, though a fiction, it’s the darkest and the purest one I’ve ever read/seen. It may not be your usual TV series, but it’s one that would make you re-think your world.

It’s one story that would re-shape your life.
It’s one, that would break you to millions of pieces, but only so that you’ll be prepared.
Prepared– so you know what you’ve to do when you’ve got your 13 reasons to die.


©The Honest Fabler

©Cover credits- Google Images

Wide Awake

I tried to get sound sleep, again.

This time, the dead woods stood with a leaf blower on my roof.
And that neighbour still won’t muzzle.

It troubled my thoughts.
That keep me restless.

Wondering, if I will ever find peace with my mind.
I lay my head upon a weeping tree to be one with the earthly leaves.


©The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image source- Google Images

Remaining lives: None.

Remaining lives: None.

She gasped.
I tightened my grip.
She pleaded.
I tried not to hear her cries.
She struggled.
I didn’t like that she’s afraid.
She was tired.
I knew the climax is near, “You’ll be free.”
She turned rigid.
I saw her eyes roll up in her head, the moment had arrived.
She was pale.
Emotion, pain, heat she could feel none.
It was all because of me. Her gateway.
I was a hurdle she had to conquer.
Why did I do it, you ask?
I did it, for her.
She was in pain,
But I knew what she had to gain.
It was freedom.
And what better freedom than being in her purest form?
As a soul.
Never trapped in a body.
So, I did it for her.
I snapped my cat’s neck on a bright
afternoon of summer.


©The Honest Fabler
©Image Source- Google Images

WOMANHOOD

|| Womanhood ||

The word which was alien to me struck in my mind. Out of curiosity, I went to search its meaning from the “Collin’s Advance Dictionary” which states —Womanhood. The state of being a woman rather than a girl.

I’m not sure whether the dictionary talks about only physical or mental status into account or not. So, the very term is baffling to me.

I remember once my father called me in the house when I was playing Holi with some guys and girls in the street, albeit, I played in the same manner last year. His strange behaviour puzzled me.

I went straight up to the terrace and watched my brother who is 10 years elder to me continue having fun with them. I was given no valid explanation for such behaviour, apart from the concrete statement that “I’m grown up now”.

I still didn’t find out what does that “grown up” meant at that time, I always wondered, “Have I attained womanhood?”

Simone de Beauvoir wrote in the ‘Second Sex‘ that “One is not born, but rather becomes a woman.” & in today’s context the quotation finds its meaning. I don’t know at what point of time I was termed as a “woman” but the world, present or past is witness to the fact that the very term has brutally mutilated the wings of independence of an individual.

Womanhood is just like a GPS chip that is installed in an experimental animal. A wild animal in a forest which help to trace out their position.
I can relate myself in ‘Oceana’ just like ‘Winston Smith‘ of 1984 being always in the radar of ‘The Big Brother’ . This Big Brother is not an individual but the society of unknown and virtuosity, which is more concerned about me than myself.

I found myself sitting beside ‘Simon de Beauvoir’ struggling to find the lost identity. I found myself among the stones in the pockets of ‘Virginia Wolf’ drowned in the river. I, too, felt suffocated with ‘Sylvia Plath’. I wander madly to search a true and divine love for ‘Kamla Das’. I’m fighting with the Government so that ‘Mary Ann Evans’ could be known by her real name & so that no woman needs the shelter of ‘Masculine Umbrella’ to prove her worth. Even after trying so hard I was lying on the roadside of Delhi and watching my end coming near.

I don’t know whether this struggle will ever end or not but I’m never going to give up. I’ll never let me fail whether Constitution grant me reservation or not.
My ‘Womanhood‘ is my territory and I am learning to reign it. I don’t fear to fight and protect it.
Despite having cropped wings, I managed to flay to the space.
I speak loud in the Parliament so that everyone can wake up.

My Womanhood makes me the creator. I am a Mother and a Nourisher. I am the deity as the holy book suggests but still I have an unending war to fight with my own people and it will continue till the time unknown. In the bottom line I would like to quote a verse in Sanskrit

यत्र नार्यस्तु पूज्यन्ते रमन्ते तत्र देवताः ।
यत्रैतास्तु न पूज्यन्ते सर्वास्तत्राफलाः क्रियाः ।।

Let you all find whether it is a satire or an irony.


©The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Images