Edited by: Kartika Puri (UG 2019)
“You really want to buy another one of those? Again?” My mother asks, her normally serene voice laced with irritation. I nod eagerly, my face lighting up like a Christmas tree. My hands are tightly clutching the new bundle of joy. It is ready to be explored and smelled. My mind’s already wandering, imagining the exciting adventures I’ll embark on with this one. “You have too many books already, Ammu!” She snaps irritably, breaking me out of my reverie. “Plus, your cupboard is full already! You still haven’t read those classics! Are you really, really keen on buying this?”
My mother expects me to take a deep breath and place the book back on the shelf in the store. She expects me to say, “Oh Mamma, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. How can I be so fiscally irresponsible? I promise that from now on, I’ll be the perfect child and donate the rest of my collection to my various cousins all over the country.” But, I do no such thing.
“This is a masterpiece, Mamma!” I plead instead, not caring about the other disgruntled customers around. “I read all about it on Goodreads! It’s a modern classic. I will not get it anywhere!”
“Oh goodness, all right!” She says exasperatedly. “Give me that book, I’ll pay for it! But you better explain it to your grandmother why you need this!”
***
Luckily, my grandmother doesn’t bug me much apart from the usual “Why do you want to spend so much on books?” and “You’re a strange kid, there’s something wrong with you!” But, ah well, that’s the usual.
Finally, I find myself lying on the couch; the new book is in my hands. “Now, how will you turn out to be?” I think. “Are you as amazing as your cover or are you just a fraud?” Then, I flip open the book and start. At first, it’s a bit difficult to get into the gist.
I’m still a bit aware of my surroundings–the sound of the T.V. blaring, my family pottering about, and talking about all things in life. Plus, I just met the characters. I don’t know them enough to judge if they’re worth rooting for. But as I turn the pages, the outside world slowly recedes and I get lost in the magical world of ink.
***
It’s late into the night. I’m lying on the couch and frantically turning the pages. My surroundings are completely blurred. All that matters to me now is this fictional world. I don’t care about how late it is and I sure as hell don’t care if anyone in my family is about to burst my bubble and order me to go back to sleep.
I have to know what’s going to happen in the end.
I have to-
-“WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE?!”
I jump up and let out a scream. I find myself staring at a skinny old man, his grey hair dishevelled and his eyes bleary.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” My grandfather thunders. “IT’S TWO IN THE NIGHT! HOW CAN YOU DISTURB OUR SLEEP JUST SO YOU CAN SIT HERE AND WASTE YOUR TIME?”
Damn. It looks like I won’t be able to read any longer tonight.
***
Thankfully, by the next morning, I get to finish the entire book. Sure, my grandparents taunted me and speculated how I’ll turn into a headcase with the lack of sleep. Sure, I have dark circles around my eyes. Sure, I cannot concentrate on what’s going on in class. But none of that replaces the immense satisfaction I have, now that I have read the book.
In between classes, I tell people about how amazing the book is. Some listen to me with interest while others roll their eyes, irritated by my maniacal passion for reading. During my break, I go up to the library (because hey, the canteen is too mainstream!), partly to meet my friends, and partly to search for more interesting books.
As I’m browsing through bookshelves, I see it. A new, shiny book, ready to lead me to my next adventure.