A time for the book

A consistent thread in my life is the pleasure of books. Buying them in bookstores from Chennai, Mannheim, Mumbai, Kathmandu, Mumbai, Bangkok, Shanghai and Amazon. Reading them in places from the bathroom to those interminable airline check-in queues.

But – often, in a quiet moment, examining the conscience i.e. bookshelves, I note several books left unread. Or some carefully flirted with for a single dinner date for a few pages. A few probably bedded with for a few nights for a couple of chapters.

A book that always was quiet in its sombriety, yet compelling was Steven Pinker's “How the mind works". Bought on a whim due to it's name and author, it lay ignored for a long time. Yet, it continued to wrestle with my attention until I finally decided to curl up with it a couple of weeks ago.

It has been a glued obsession. I love it. I understand it. I feel it.

A cloud has parted.

So, this it. You can't come to a book. It must come to you. At a time fertile in its myriad possibilities, in its possibility of comprehension, beauty of the word and utter lucidity.

One is ready for a book. Or not.

(5th April 2009, with generous help in bringing the idea alive from Yashu)

Comments

  1. HemantApril 7, 2009 at 5:58 PM

    Its an amazing piece. I could absolutely relate to the feeling. Look forward to reading your blog every week. Hemant

    ReplyDelete
  2. VijayaOctober 21, 2016 at 3:53 PM

    Beautifully written!

    ReplyDelete

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