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I was only 9 when my love for books began. Now I dive into the world of books to lose myself in the characters & time-travel with the story.
“Books are uniquely portable magic” – Stephen King.
The very first reason to why I read fictional books is because, yes, you guessed it right, I am an introvert. But, the most important factor behind my love for books, especially fictional books remains, the vast amount of knowledge and an additional sense of freedom (in case of fictional books) that reading offers.
Fictional books have a different flavour to them, a different aura, a different scintilla that might titillate you, make you cry or might make you fall in love, and it all depends on what you read and how you read.
The advantages of reading non-fiction books are known to all. They give you a deep ocean of knowledge in varied subjects which slowly starts to trickle into your brain, activating it, nourishing it and most importantly forcing it to think and ponder.
But, fictional books are down-played and thought to be nothing more than a source of entertainment and joy, an argument that I totally disagree.
My love for the stories, that an author weaves in a series pages, started when I was 9. My main motive (or rather my parents’) was to improve my English skills but soon a mere need, took form of love for me.
I started feeling comfortable seeing myself in different forms, dressing in different styles, travelling through space and time and seeing life (or a possible life) as it could be or as it is for many.
Books became my haven. When I read ‘Around the World in 80 days’ by Jules Verne (my first book), I sometimes imagined myself to be the eccentric Mr. Fogg, sometimes the sporty valet Passepartout or for an instance Princess Aurora. But all in all I was the master to choose who I wanted to be.
While reading ‘Wuthering Heights‘, by one of my favourites, Emily Bronte, I could feel my evil and good rise and subside simultaneously. At times, Heathcliff raged in me, at times I was the helpless Hareton. I could see the story through any lens as many person male or female, old or young, dead or alive, devil or saint.
And this brings to today’s date when I have lived, breathed, assimilated some 56 classics, a handful of poems and several short stories. Travelling forth and back in time, from the Victorian era to Indian independence, from gothics to modern Japanese fiction; reading is like time-travelling. It is a magic. You live several lives and die several deaths, you fall in love with many and despise few.
For history enthusiasts or simpletons like me who just like to know about how people lived, the world of fiction is a tele-screen, that makes alive a life already lived.
For fantasy lovers, it is a whole new world where you can be anything you like from the Wizard of Oz to Mr. Hatter. You can travel forward in time and know what can happen, you can live in utopia or the life of Guy Montag (Fahrenheit 451).
The world of books is a place where you are free, absolutely free from all connections of this world. A place that allows you to be of any nationality, any era any identity, where you can learn about different cultures through the perspective of the character,
So, what are you waiting for? Grab your nearest book and give it a go!
Ardent reader, law aspirant and maverick read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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