When I Wrote About the Kerosene Lamp

When I began writing my COMA newsletter story, I had a title that travelled from a kerosene lamp to the lights of Las Vegas. Quite a distance for one sentence. But the more I wrote, the more I wanted to stay with the people and places at the beginning of it.

One memory still comes back clearly: being eleven years old, wiping rainwater from an old book beneath a leaking roof. There were mud walls, a floor finished with cow dung, and coconut leaves overhead. There was no electricity. A kerosene lamp gave me the light to read.

Those were the surroundings in which my curiosity began to grow. I had no idea what a future in magic might look like. I simply wanted to understand something that had amazed me, and then somehow do it myself.

My Kochachan, my uncle, had introduced me to that feeling. My father helped by buying me magic books. My tutor, T. Shivan Kutti, gave me Magic Magic by C.N. Pradeep. When I think of those books now, I also think of the people who placed them in my hands. They took a boy's interest seriously. That can mean a great deal to a child, even before he has words for it.

I learned from books and made props myself. There was pleasure in trying to turn something I had read into something I could actually perform. A page could give me an idea, but my hands had to learn the rest. That habit of trying, adjusting and trying again has followed me into filmmaking and technology as well.

Writing From Kerosene Lamp Nights to Vegas Stage Lights — The Merlin Award Story made me look at that journey with more patience. The award in Las Vegas was a meaningful part of it. So were the many years that do not fit neatly into an announcement: learning, working, raising a family and continuing to make room for art.

My wife has supported that part of my life. Seeing my daughter become involved in performing brings its own happiness. Something that once began with a child watching his uncle has found a place in another generation. I enjoy that thought very much.

Writing for COMA felt personal because this community belongs to my life in Ohio. Many people here have encouraged me, given me opportunities and made space for my work. Some know me with a camera in my hand. Some know the magician. Others know me through the ordinary occasions when we meet as families and friends. The newsletter gave me a chance to let those different versions of me tell one story.

It also reminded me how much a journey depends on other people. We often introduce an artist with his name and a few achievements. A fuller introduction would need room for the uncle, the father, the teacher, the family and the friends who helped him continue.

I wanted this piece to make that room.

The Vegas lights belong in the title. So does the kerosene lamp. Whenever I return to this story, I want to remember the boy trying to keep his book dry, and the people who made sure he had something worth reading.