Yes, you heard it right. No, I am not against reading. I love it. But I think I love it way too much, enough to know the pros and cons.
I have always been telling people around me to read. I love people who read and I am often spotted with a book in my hand. I am a proud owner of Kindle Paperwhite. (Not to brag, but to stress the obsession. Okay, a little brag. :P)
My friends can vouch for the numerous conversations we had and the recommendations I gave them, which, as a matter of fact, helped them to realize that reading is indeed fun. I gift books to people and well, it is very easy to find a gift for me (too obvious, right?)
Anyway, coming to the point, there have been too many posts and rather books which can tell you countless pointers why reading is good for you, and why you should read everyday. I might offend some of them. Hopefully, not much.
I just finished reading a book, and it was brilliant. The one I mentioned yesterday, Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. It is an interesting story about a prisoner who escaped Australia’s prison and comes to Bombay. He some how manages to get into Bombay’s mafia world. As much as it sounds that the book would deal with the dons and their fight etc etc, it is not, except for a few parts. I found it to be a metaphor of sorts, (because, I always look for them. Can’t help!) where he explains in an honest and simple way the basics of life, love, work, ethics, choices we make and on top of all survival and freedom. I liked the way how he used so many different worlds and settings to portray that- be it his experience from Australia, India, heart of Bombay and the other places he goes to.
Well, there. That is the point. I read this book, and I have been reading it for quite some time and that is the thing with the obsession. I have been reading it on my way back from office, before sleeping, sometimes during my small breaks in office. I can’t seem to concentrate on any other thing, once I get the taste of the book, just like what the taste of a prey’s blood does for a hound. I have to read it. I have to know what happened. Everything else suddenly takes a lower priority in my head. My work, my meals and my lovely night’s sleep!
Reading strikes off that perfect balance which I had worked hard to maintain – the office in the morning, a little bit work out once I am back, finishing off some personal work and then going to bed on time to be able to start it all over again. As soon as I pick up a book, it knocks everything over. Clean bowled.
It makes me lazy too. I just stick to my favourite spot with that priceless book and not a soul dares to ask me to move. (Except my mom!) I can not leave it unless I know who was killer in the end, and then once I know it, suddenly I realize the urgent need to stretch and take a peaceful nap.
Reading can be a little tough to maintain sometimes. It is born out of habits. And habits die hard. You only notice the blunders after they have been done. 😛 But by then, there is a huge compensation waiting for you, gift wrapped, in the words called “The End.” The epic realization that you have reached your destination, and the journey has been so wonderful, that you failed to even notice that there was something else going on around. The patience (whatever little you maintained) paid off.
There is always a story, like the one I just wrote, and it would not have been possible had I not read this book, or several others before that, and experienced the devil myself. The devil, which has become too dear to part from. 🙂