sample copy. not for distribution. · rhea is stuck in her monotonous life, yearning to break out...

Sample Copy. Not For Distribution.

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The Grimoire


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Printed in India


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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.


viii

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.


The Grimoire

1

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


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.


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.


The Grimoire

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I couldn’t bring myself to let it die in this manner. I

adopted it.

P


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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The Grimoire

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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


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.


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


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.


The Grimoire

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