The broom of muggles

All my life, I wanted to go to Hogwarts.  

No, I am not a fan of Hermione Granger or Gryffindor. I would rather be in Hufflepuff – the house of loyal and hardworking students.

Even now, I sometimes imagine riding my magical broomstick over the tall towers of the school, playing Quidditch and winning the champions trophy for my house.

These days, my daydreams are all about riding the imaginary broomstick in the blue skies of Dhaka, as the lockdown has cleared the layers of grey between the sky and the muggles.

The other day, I took a broom to my balcony and sat on it – as if I would fly away right now – when a muggle, I repeat, a muggle, nudged me on the back of my head and the dream was promptly over.

These muggles would not let go of one opportunity to come between me and my Hogwarts dreams. 

"This broom is to clean the house. It cannot fly," my mother said in a stern voice before she went away.

My mornings are not the same anymore. I no longer jump out of my bed, quickly get ready and rush to work.

Nowadays I stay in my pyjamas all day long, and life seems to have slowed down – thanks to the shutdown.

Of course, I do my official meetings in my pyjamas and messy hair, without the boss knowing or noticing. I am almost sure he does the same.

But since quarantine began, life has introduced me to another episode: the broom.

The other day my mother announced that we all will have to do household chores.

"I request you all to do your chores. Please start by cleaning your rooms," she had said.

Both my brother and I were totally startled by her "request", which we knew were actually orders. She would never take no for an answer.

So, I went into the cleaning supplies corner and picked up the broom.

Before picking it up, I looked at it for a while and went back to my Hogwarts moment. Then, the encounter took place.

The broom of muggles, as I call it, did not like me at all. I covered my entire face, hair and started working with it around the house.

But half an hour later, even after trying so hard, I could not gather a speck of dust and announced that the house was sparkling clean.

My mother sighed. She snatched the broom from me and her looks changed from that of the comforting Dumbledore to the scary Snape.

She returned after a while, a dustpan in her hand and a broom by her side. She had gathered a good amount of dust, which apparently looked like gold dust to me.

I grinned foolishly, and then the muggle-turned Professor Snape, walked away.