Some people read for pleasure. Some for knowledge. Some to impress other people. Some when they are really bored. Some because it is a good habit. And some for no reason at all. It’s just something they do like breathing or eating or walking or living.
Books have always been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. Right from the time I was a baby, busy tearing up and scribbling on all the books in the house, from the time I first learnt to read in school and then tried to finish reading all the books in the school library, from the time most of my relatives stopped buying books for me because they were slowly going bankrupt, from the time I got locked up inside the house because I couldn’t hear my father screaming out my name while I was sitting in a corner reading, from the time I was branded a “book-worm” for life. Till now, when reading an entire book in one sitting appears to be a luxury.
To people who don’t like to read, it seems such a solemn solitary past time, something that introverts like to do. It is a secret that “book-worms” carry around with them- the reason why books can be more addictive than heroin. It’s something hard to explain, there’s a totally different world inside. One that’s really difficult to beat. Reality doesn’t even come close.
I have lived most of my life through books, learnt things from them that nobody could have ever taught me. Ancient civilizations and modern day reality (with science fiction thrown in).
My idea of heaven is a great book, a rainy day, a warm blanket and a bar of chocolate. Nothing could make me happier!!