I was 12 when i read my first book. I remember it was a nepali novel named “बिक्रम र नौलो ग्रह” (Bikram and the strange planet) written by Ramesh Bikal. It was fascinating to my little brains. Thanks to my dad who always encouraged me to read anything and not only school’s textbooks. With it began my journey into the world of books, imaginations and knowledge. I accompanied sindbad in his voyages, sumnima in her quest for love, died with palpasa, lived with veronica and what not! I can’t express the impact they make. The insights they give about things I wouldn’t generally put my thoughts to. It’s amazing how reading fuels your imagination. You give your character a face, a personality that you would want. You live along with them through their journey. Every book is like a little quest. Some leave you intrigued, some fascinated, some sad and exhausted too. It’s like living multiple realities but whatever emotion you are left with, every book adds a little more value to you as a person. It challenges your thoughts and your perspectives. It makes you uncomfortable at times. And that itself is the beauty of reading. You learn how to respect every perspective and every angle of looking at things even when it isn’t agreeable to your moral standards. Reading broadens your horizons inexplicably.
When i started having a stable income, I promised myself a book every now and then. 14 years past my first read and life is very busy. Work, post grad classes, some social responsibilities and it’s overwhelming already. But whenever I come across a book that really catches my interest, I pull out time from anywhere, even from my sleep or my meal time and read. I wish to have my own library by the time I turn 60, a whole room full of bookshelves and books and I wish to retire to that!
This indulgence to apologues is my escape from the horrendously monotonous reality. In simpler words, reading makes me forget this world and takes me someplace else for a while.
What is your escape? Cause god knows we all need one!
Yalla. I’m out.