A hobby turned buddy

There’s never a time my bed side table is empty. It is always loaded with reading material like books, magazines, clippings of articles I wanted to read from old newspapers etc which I put away for a later read. Most times, that later never came, ever. Yet, I had to have those by my bed side or at radius my arm can reach. Alongside a notepad and pen to jot my thoughts down whenever I felt like writing.

The book shelves, office rooms, libraries I saw in movies and huge bungalows were enticing, I always wanted to have a room just for books, music and myself. Finally, I managed to set-up a li'l book shelf of my own in the living not as organized as I’d like it to be, but it’ll do now. I look at it now to admire my arranged stack of hand-picked mini library.

In retrospect to my childhood, my father who has been a voracious reader, encouraged me to read books and brought me everything from Chandamama, Champak, Wisdom, Competition success to Archies, Tinkle, Chacha Chowdary and many more. As I grew up, he kept on recommending selected articles and books from his collection, although I never went through it with any greater interest than to please him. Nevertheless, I read few.

A few years back, I started reading with strict intentions to improvise my language and vocabulary, starting with newspapers to poetry to novels. I ended up finding that those were the least of all the obvious benefits I received from this highly rewarding habit.

As I flipped the pages away, I fell in love with non-existent people and places alike, the Utopia, the good, the bad and the grey fictional characters. I traveled through various cultures and across time. I saw places I've never been to. I admired eloquent phrases and words that emanated from the writer's heart. I even used to read few pages aloud to feel the tone the scene was set in. It was my favorite part, reading out an intense part of the book. And then re-reading just to hold on to the intensity of the story. 

I tried playing with modulating voice, different accents too. I created a sub-world confined to my imagination and books. I needed it to escape from the never-satisfying reality. Because I felt I can do more than what I was doing during my teens and twenties, just missed on the resources. Music, Art, Athletics, Adventure, I was up for anything. The books gave it to me all. I realized that I have an innate receptor to appreciate true art, one of them, an art of imagination.

Sometimes I got so engrossed into a really interesting book, the effect lingered around for a few days. I would think like the narrator, dream of the scenes or even talk like one of the characters. There are books that really help you grow, prepare you for life’s tantrums, enable you with tools to be the survivor, some become your buddies and some also give you peace!