READER'S DISEASE
02:40:00
I have semester exams the entire month and
I am lying on my bed scrolling through Will and Tessa posts with Once upon a dream haunting me through my
earphones, I am just shy of a sniffle and then an ugly sob. It’s hard to get
over tragic endings.
I was updating my Goodreads to-be-read pile and an epiphany paid a taunting visit, I’ll never be able to read all the books that have been and will be written. My heart sank into a dreadful limbo of helplessness and anxiety, I assuaged the sudden panic attack by ordering more books and making my to-be-read pile a to-be-read fortress.
I just wish I could time travel like Tim from about time and just relive the first
spark of comprehension, the sweet relief of not feeling alone because someone
in those pages gets it. Snorting at someone’s joke because it reminds you of a
familiar line from a book. Being emotionally invested in fictional people never ended well for anybody.
The feeling I get when I touch a crisp cover a book I have
been pining over for more than a year, the smooth ridges, the dentition left on the book-rib from
the journey from the store to your hand, the mind boggling smell of mint
condition books. The even more mesmeric scent of second-hand books. Old books,
especially, entrap you into their history. More than the story on the pages, I
wonder about the previous possessor; if he was happy in his life, if he’d read
this book during a sad time of his life, if it held meaning, did it make him
cry, ponder, reflect or was it an insipid guest on a short stay on his
nightstand. And if you’re lucky you’ll be treated by a small name and address
or a short note from the previous possessor. When I find this treasure I always
hope that they are fine in their lives and that they miss the book sometimes, I
know I would. But then I would never give away my books, even for charity, I
don’t possess a golden heart you see. No, I am not even giving away The
Twilight saga.
Do you ever feel that
one consequential moment of enlightenment, that one moment of clarity, that one
moment of profusion of ‘sense’, in a
word at the right place or a short sentence of evangelical intervention? You
feel blessed, a new form of life. It’s like the author wrote the lines only for
you to make sense. I love the feeling of being helplessly at the mercy of these
words; completely surrendering to these blotches of ink. Sometimes I thank
these words through tears or ‘poetic-debt’
as I love to call it and sometimes an endless ode in the form of a fan e-mail
to the author.
These aren’t just words trying to impress me through their
curves and arrangements, these are living memories of the hope to make sense of ourselves, Books aren’t a matter of
ungrateful handling, they are as alive as you. They help you find lost pieces
of your constitution. When I read, it feels like I am waltzing with the words
to the music of the story. It is the only time I am ‘not lost.’
I think Books are a
reader’s chance of redemption. Redemption from: society, non-conformity, loneliness,
misanthropy, cynicism and self-loathe. I don’t recall a book that did not
rekindle my love for life, every book has a certain uniqueness; a royal
subtlety. If you’ve read a book that you like, it means it reminded you of
yourself but in an altered way, you see yourself in the goodness of the
character and understand your own vices through them. You hope that you will
become that beautiful sentence that has been permanently etched in your memory,
a reminder that you are more than what you think.
I think it is important to be alone with a book, read the
irony in this line, reader. It’s important to surround yourself with people
you’ll never meet, places you’ll never see, emotions you’ll never feel but in
those printed pages. Trust me it is important. Let the words romance with your
thoughts, let the lovers unite.
Aren’t we all stories waiting to be written in the end?
I remembered a line from The
Book thief: “I am haunted by humans.” Said death.
I could feel the torrid of mind numbing emotions coursing
through me when I read this line. What if we let these stories haunt us? What
if we become each story? It wouldn’t be any less an adventure than Alice, would
it?
P.S. I have problems reconciling with the fact that I should not read books for an entire
month but I am going to disobey my disciplined conscience. It would be an
absolute pleasure to receive the titles of your personal favorites.
5 comments
This is your best yet!Ughh the quote worthy stuff on your blog.
ReplyDeleteAt the risk of sounding below the grade of your intellect- <3 omg i love it <3 update soon :):):)
Case in point:
ReplyDelete"When I read, it feels like I am waltzing with the words to the music of the story."
"Let the words romance with your thoughts, let the lovers unite." I think this is my favorite.
"They help you find lost pieces of your constitution."
"I assuaged the sudden panic attack by ordering more books and making my to-be-read pile a to-be-read fortress."
What makes me fear for self confidence of writers all around the world, myself included, is that you are only going to get better at this.
Yes, I came back to this post a second time. I love it that much. Gimme more!
Oh Heavens. Sweet summer child. Bless thy heart. You just made my day. I love you to the depths of tartarus. :*
ReplyDeleteI believe anyone who has ever experienced the magic and the thrill while reading, can relate to this post. Your fingers bleed what the heart feels..and its awe inspiring and fjhbdjhbvzshbvjhbvj ( i just cannot...your words give me the feels)
ReplyDeleteI am glad people feel the same passion for the written word. Thanks for commenting!
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