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The Grimoire
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The Grimoire
Ishan Katyal
EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)
www.educreation.in
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Dedicated to
those who dare to be different.
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About the Author
Born and brought up in Delhi, Ishan has
done his B.E. in Instrumentation and
Masters in Chemistry from BITS Pilani
K.K. Birla Goa Campus. He is currently
pursuing his MBA in marketing from
Narsee Monjee Institute of Management
Studies, Mumbai.
‘We are all born with infinite capabilities, it’s all
about going out of your comfort zone.’ He is an
entrepreneur, fitness enthusiast, a reader, an erudite,
dancer, cook, a traveller among other things. He is on a
constant lookout for any opportunities to explore
himself. This novella is another attempt at it.
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Author’s Note The learned of magic give the distinction between black
and white magic, based on the purpose and intent.
However these procedures are unnatural, forcing their
will in the pre-decided schemes of nature. Thus being
referred to as Dark in the novella.
Dark magic is a highly dangerous procedure,
conjuring energy from the entities around. Various
instances have been reported that emphasizes on its
adverse effects. If not handled properly, it can do much
more damage than good.
Dark magic is not a natural way of achieving
aspirations of your life, extremely anti-karmic in its
approach. It can come back to the performer with triple
intensity as per the Rule of Wicca.
The novella is a work of fiction and takes the liberty
to tweak certain aspects however the spells are to be
considered real and strictly not performed under any
circumstances.
Discretion is highly advised.
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Preface ‘Most people are prisoners, thinking only about the
future or living in the past. They are not in the present,
and the present is where everything begins.’ –Carlos
Santana
Rhea is stuck in her monotonous life, yearning to
break out of the vicious circle. Her life has not been
enough for her, she wants more.
On her regular visit to the book store she comes
across a diary, a solution that holds the power to change
her life, fulfil her deepest wishes, grant her the life she
aspires – a diary that introduces her to Dark Magic.
How much are you willing to sacrifice to get what
you want? Is the risk worth the outcome? Simple
questions, yet the profundity is deeper than the deepest
of oceans.
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The Grimoire
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The Status Quo
W It was raining outside and I, as usual, was deep into my
book. The petrichor of rain, the music of raindrops
playing on the roads and an occasional blue flash of
lightening were distracting me. I reflected through my
mist laden window into the unclear images of what lay
ahead. My mind was playing the same cassette of my
current, uninteresting life. My emotions always made
sure that I replayed this cassette - I was stuck in the
vicious circle of a quarter life crises.
My name is Rhea and I am an engineer by
circumstances, working for an IT Multinational for the
last two years. You could probably guess my appearance
by imagining the first bookish girl that comes to your
mind. Big round spectacles highlighting the chubby
cheeks underneath it, a big nose and round brown eyes.
My body was showing signs of extra fat on my arms,
thighs and hips. I was not obese for sure but was on the
path to becoming one.
I have only one friend. Her name is Sanah and she’s
working for a similar multinational in Bangalore. We are
so absorbed in our daily routines that we are barely able
to make time for each other. In my 25 years of age, I
have not had a lot many friends. It is very easy to ignore
me, maybe even get bored by my personality.
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Ishan Katyal
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My childhood has been spent trying to work out
ways of retaliation whenever someone bullied me. I
emphasize on the word ‘trying’ as it was always
unsuccessful and I was bullied, ignored, made fun of
pretty much everywhere I went, so much so that I have
had to change many schools because of this.
Once I was called to a birthday party of a classmate.
I knew it was a mere courtesy since everyone in the class
was invited and I could not be left behind. I was told that
it was to be attended in a fancy dress - cliché trick.
Needless to say my pirate costume didn’t go well with
the nicely dressed crowd of the evening. I cried myself
to sleep that night. From that moment onwards, I made
peace with the fact that I cannot make friends and it’s
okay to stay alone.
For whatever I lacked in my social skills, I made up
with my intellect. I was one of the toppers, consistently
excelling in academics, feeling that this was the only
rationalization I could give to myself for failing at life as
a whole; so I worked hard to maintain my edge. I scored
extremely well in my class tenth and twelfth boards and
got into a premier college soon after; but again true to
myself, my focus was always only on academics. A
similar cycle of my past life became evident, I had no
friends so I studied and since I only studied I had no
friends. I think the problem is not about academics, or
the lack of effort, but with my self-confidence.
My lack of self-confidence is visible in my love life
also. I have never garnered enough courage to speak my
heart out to anyone. I do get attracted to the opposite sex
but to no avail. Usually only Sanah and I knew about my
feelings.
I feel that the only good thing about my life is the
presence of my parents. My dad is a sweetheart, always
pampering me, spoiling me; and my mom, though
stricter than dad, loves me beyond limits. My dad works
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The Grimoire
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in a government organization and my mom is a
housewife. We have ample amount of money for a good
living but not for unnecessary luxuries. They are the
only people in this world who love me for me as a
person, or in fact, just love me.
True to the human nature, as the grass is always
greener on the other side, I yearn for friends,
companionship, love, a boyfriend.
Coming to my professional life, it is WOW, worst
of the worst!
On the very first day of my induction into the
company, I was told that the team would be my family.
They were correct. They have been my family. A step
family. Unapproving, neglecting, ignoring. I feel like a
Harry Potter in a house of Dursleys.
Every morning I push myself out of bed to the
uninviting place I call office, hating each and every step
I take towards my desk. It’s excruciating, yet one needs
to work to earn one’s living.
I am stuck in this monotonous life. There are so
many things I want to do, so many places that I want to
go, so many aims I want to achieve, but I cannot. Desire
and pragmatism are often two ends of the same
spectrum. I desire to change my life, yet the fear of the
unknown stops me. What if it doesn’t work out? What if
I land up in a place worse than this? I have a stable
salary and a secure life, but what if it disappears simply
because I wanted something better? I am not bold
enough to take that step. There is nothing that can
change this status quo and I have made peace with it.
Everyone has something that lets them escape from
their reality, be somewhere else, feel completely
different. This something can be one’s partner, one’s
friend, one’s pet, one’s food or maybe a hobby. For me it
was the habit of reading.
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Ishan Katyal
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They say that once you start living in this world, the
reality doesn’t interest you enough. It was true for me.
After finishing my book, I went to my regular
bookstore to exchange my current one at half price and
buy a new life. It was like a typical book store that keeps
second hand books. Stacks like mini towers stashed till
where the eyes go. Dan Brown peeking over from the
left, J.K. Rowling staring from the right, Ayn Rand
playing peek-a-boo from the counter, Sidney Sheldon
creeping up from the back. The owner of the shop, a
middle aged fellow with a bald patch on his head, black
round spectacles, and a face almost like that of my uncle,
welcomed me with his regular, weird smile while
scratching his tummy that was trying to escape from the
ill-fitted white shirt. I was skimming through the stacks
to explore my options.
I have read this one, this one seems boring, I don’t
like this genre, read, read, read, not interested, read,
change stack.
I was changing the stacks as easily as people
change loyalty nowadays.
I reached the end of the shop where I could see
tattered, torn books hoping for someone to adopt them
but with lost hope. While going through them, my eyes
fell on a diary lying in one corner. A black diary with a
black coloured strap clipped on to it, restricting the book
from pouring its contents out to the reader.
Curious, I picked up the book and turned to the first
page. Scribbled in the centre were the words: ‘My
Grimoire’
The italicized, black ink words gave me the jitters.
This was something new, something unexpected. It
looked like someone’s personal diary but who on earth
would name their diary as ‘The Grimoire’? Unnerving
name according to me; intriguing though.
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The Grimoire
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I couldn’t bring myself to let it die in this manner. I
adopted it.
P
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Ishan Katyal
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The Diary
W Day 1
This is my first experience of writing something of this
kind. I have seen people trying to keep journals that
capture their lives on a day to day basis. I always
wanted to keep a record of my life, now I‟ve finally
found my courage.
Today was just another day at office - same work,
same people, same routine. The signature start up tone
of my windows laptop welcomed me to the world of
codes. Lines and lines of coloured alphabets danced on
the black background giving me a trippy feeling even in
my square cubicle. My bag lay next to my laptop
accompanied by a square tiffin box in a polythene wrap
indicating large amount of oily food in it. A large wall
clock in front of my table made me realize just how slow
the world can be.
I had pinned up some photos of my family at my
desk. It made me feel more comfortable, more loved. A
picture of my dad and me enjoying a cup of tea at a
roadside stall in the rain, one of my mom and me
laughing at a long forgotten memory at the beach,
another one of the three of us standing beneath a
foaming white waterfall surrounded by the lush greenery
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of the mountains and the misty clouds. It makes me both
happy and sad to see these pictures – happy because I
have lived these memories with them, sad because it is
only them I have lived these memories with.
I pushed my spectacles up my nose and started
playing the same beat on my keyboard that I am used to
doing every day.
My manager came into my chamber to review my
progress - my first human interaction since morning. I
obliged, stumbling over each word as I gave him an
update. What if something is wrong? What if he doesn‟t
like my work? What if he scolds me in front of the office?
The everyday dilemma replays itself in my head.
Skip to the lunch hour. I put the oily, yet delicious
vegetable on the rice next to it and had a bite. I looked
around. Rows of chairs disoriented from their set
pattern, laptops and bags blatantly put on the tables,
lights and fans running to provide comfort to their non-
living mates, the whole place looked like a site of
surprize attack which killed everyone, leaving the place
as is.
On noticing further, I saw just two people in the
entire area. One on the phone and other working on his
laptop, everyone else had gone for their lunch. I took
another bite and looked at the screen. The coloured
alphabets of codes were still dancing, but this time it
looked more like jazz. Another bite and I choked on the
realization of how lonely I was in my life. Sitting all
alone, silently eating my lunch by myself, with just my
thoughts and empty furniture for company. Each and
every bite I took was difficult to gulp down.
The next couple of hours passed in a haze. I worked
more through my muscle memory rather than my mind
which was wandering away to what could be.
I wanted to go home to my parents, my very own
comfort zone. They were the only people in my life who
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Ishan Katyal
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cared about me. I wanted to be in my bed, with my book
and a hot cup of coffee. Away from this world, away
from this life.
Day 2
Weekend is here!
The perfect morning begins with some time spent
half asleep in the arms of my boyfriend. The warmth of
his hug is therapeutic. Waking up in bed to a hot
breakfast of scrambled eggs and pancake, with maple
syrup on the top, and a hot coffee to go with it. It is
followed by a hot water bath in chamomile flower
scented water with only bubbles covering our naked
bodies.
We go for shopping in the afternoon with the
agenda to buy essentials for our home but I drag him to
the women‟s section where I try out naughty lingerie and
tease him beyond his control. A lunch lined up at Ching
Wah, my favourite Chinese restaurant finishes our
perfect afternoon. But why is he shaking me at the
restaurant like I am a branch of a tree? I still have a
perfect evening and night to go! Stop! Stop! He is still
rattling me and shouting wake up, WAKE UP!
I woke up to see my mom standing next to me,
trying to wake me up, ready to pull my blanket so that
she can clean the bed. It was only a dream!
I walk into the kitchen to see dosa ready on the pan,
with a faint light brown colour signifying a perfect cook,
obviously for one who likes it. I still don‟t understand
how anyone can eat South Indian in the morning, with
acidic sambhar to go with it. Strike one.
I enter the washroom and turn the tap. Stream of
air and droplets of water shoot out. Water shortage
prevails over my patience. Strike two.
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The Grimoire
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I turn around to move out of the washroom,
stubbing my toe on the door, which stung more than a
bee bite! Strike three.
Arghh! Why does this always happen to me?! This
is so frustrating! There is so much pent up that I might
burst some day! Screw you, screw people, and screw
everything!
Day 3
Do you know what the sun and I have in common? We
work even on Sundays. My boss called me in again to fix
a code which if doesn‟t work, the whole planet will crash
and the aliens will take over.
I picked up my bag, a sandwich in my hand and
pushed myself with all my power towards the office.
Have you ever been so angry that it took a power
equivalent to that of the entire universe to control
yourself? Imagine that face and the redness.
Congratulations, you are imagining me right now. My
face was redder than a monkey‟s ass.
I walked into the empty office with just my manager
visible. There was another figure standing next to him,
hidden by the pillar. But I needed to rush through the
work and leave as soon as possible.
I kept my bag and immediately got to work, but then
I heard someone talking in a dark, husky tone. It was a
heavy voice - authoritative, kind of sexy. The voice itself
was enough to get my fantasies soaring and in childlike
anticipation, I turned to look - I was not disappointed.
For a minute I thought I was seeing Zeus himself!
The Greek God Zeus was standing right there in front of
me!
Long black locks tied together in a slick ponytail, a
well-chiselled frame, fair complexion, charcoal black
eyes and high cheekbones. He was wearing a perfectly
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Ishan Katyal
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tailored beige suit that made me imagine the contents
beneath that white shirt. I was very sure he was the
Greek god himself!
He saw me ogling, I quickly turned to get back to
work. I wanted to turn around and look at him again –
just for a minute. Please let me ogle!
But my manager is there too! Stupid MBAs.
I finished my work and went to my manager to
update him about the completion. He was still chatting
with the God. I couldn‟t take my eyes off him.
“Sir it‟s done” I said with a quick glace in between
„it‟s‟ and „done‟.
“Great! Thanks for coming in on a Sunday.
Hopefully we didn‟t spoil your personal commitments.”
What? Thanks? Hopefully we didn‟t spoil? Why was he
being so polite? He never appreciates me, overloads me
with work and takes credit for everything I do. Why is
this person pretending to be so nice? There is definitely
some catch.
“I want to introduce you to Mr. Rehan. He is
representing our new client, and he will be in constant
touch with us throughout the project”
Ohh! So he just wanted to make a good impression
on the client! Double faced bastard.
“Hi” Rehan extended his hand towards me.
I felt water rush into my nose and ears. I was
drowning in an endless ocean – there was just me and
the water and the tantalizing peace. His voice
transported me to a different world altogether.
“Hi, Shilpi” I could just manage to scrape through
two words.
“I would really like to thank you for today”
“It‟s not a problem” I was red. I couldn‟t say
anything else.
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The Grimoire
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