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For the love of reading

Once upon a time in a country called India, in the state of Tamil Nadu, in the magnificent city of Chennai there was a young girl who loved reading. She started reading at the age of 8 – 9. At any given point in time you could bet on the fact that she could be found with her nose in a book. Buried deep inside.  Her resources were limited but it didn’t stop her. She bugged her English teacher at school to get her books, bugged her elder cousins to give her their books and above all made life miserable for her parents asking them for books constantly. She read with passion almost everything in sight.  English text books, young world any thing that provided her with a route to her beloved stories. The passion continued unabated. Her love for stories ended up in a love for literature which still continues unabated.

I am sure there was absolutely no need for this long lumba – choda introduction in the third person as I sure my readers (all 3 of you) know I am talking about myself. Yes people today I am going to talk about my love for reading. I have no idea how it started but it was largely due to the above mentioned English teacher that it sustained (Thank you Mrs. Geetha Charles). Coming to Qatar one of the things that I really missed is not getting any reading material (read fiction). Being a member of an amazing library back home I felt lost without my beloved books.

Rescue was however on its way a friend (thank you Rahul Asrani) lent me a book and it was a lovely book. I am a very fast reader but with this book I took an unbelievable amount of time so I started wondering why. I realized that not just this book but with any good novel I am like this. When I approach the closing pages of one of these novels, a feeling of great regret comes over me, for I realize that I am about to end my relationship with characters that I have grown to love. I feel, when the pages dwindle as if something precious and irreplaceable is being taken from me. When I realize I have only a few pages left I ration myself, only so much one day and when the final page looms and I close the book I stare at the front cover aware that something precious has touched my life.

That is the impact that a good book has on my life. As a lecturer I have interacted with a lot of students from a wide cross section of society and something common I found in most of them (most not all) is a dislike towards books. Most youngsters find books boring and uninspiring – oh ye of little imagination thou knowest not what thou art missing.


November 3, 2010 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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