Tag Archives: reading

Pleasure!

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Oh that pleasure,

Of reading;

hidden from those prying eyes.

 

PS: Ashamed only to be doing it till now 😉

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Self-Portrait.

I am reading Indian literature these days and I come upon so many interesting things to read that I am running out of time. I truly am, but come on when am I not running out of time?

So here I am, reading, writing and analysing, or to say trying to analyse the great works of some really great writers, when I fall on yet another piece which I relate to so much, it is like a spitting image, a thought stolen form my mind, and yet I know I am the thief here!

I share here a very, very short poem by A.K.Ramanujan, which played with the strings of my mind today.

Self-Portrait

I resemble everyone
but myself, and sometimes see
in shop-windows
despite the well-knownlaws
of optics,
the portrait of a stranger,
date unknown,
often signed in a corner
by my father.

So yet again the problems of a modern world, problems relating to identity crisis, problems pertaining to knowing yourself, and what not!

Am I the only one, though?

Living In An Illusory World.

Writers and readers are hopelessly romantic. They live in a fictional world, and tend to be unacceptable to the real world. They immerse themselves so much in a world, which does not exist that they deviate and forget that they live in a world, which does exist. They seek pleasure in something, which is unreal, and shirk their responsibilities towards reality. They live in denial; they live with indifference. They do not live in actuality. Myth engulfs them so strongly that pragmatism and logic become their adversaries. These writers and readers do not know how the real world works.”

This, my friend, is an allegation on me today. But what can I say to this?

May be I am irrational. May be I don’t think practically. May be I shed off my responsibilities, may be I do live in too many worlds at a point of time. May be I am hopelessly romantic. May be I do live in denial. May be I live in a fictional world, and may be I really do not know how this “real world” works?

But does anyone actually know the difference?

All I got to say about this is,

“I have lived a thousand lives and I have lived a thousand loves. I’ve walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time. Because I read.” –George R. R. Martin.

Yes, I read and I write and most of the times I immerse myself so much in these two things that I forget the real from unreal. I can barely make what was true and what was a dream. I forget the real world in the process of making a beautiful world for myself where I can live. And many a times I don’t want to come back from there, well, most of the times. And what’s more? I can’t. I can’t just do that. I have to come back.

So is that not enough? Is it not enough that I have to come back, and I do come back into the so-called real world and try to live in it.

Is it not enough that I live a life, which I don’t want to?

Why do You Hide From Me?

I have my own doubts and reluctance when it comes to this poetry, if at all it can be called one. I wrote it almost a year ago, and have never come about to posting it. So now you know how much I was hesitant to share this with anyone. It has taken me a year and another three days to have the courage to share this with you or anyone for that matter.

So now before I change my mind, I am going to hit publish, and let you guys judge me..

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*

Where are you hiding away from me?

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

 

Are you hiding beneath the sky?

The sky that is dark and gloomy

The empty face

That is raining down on me?

 

Are you hiding betwixt the stars?

The stars, magnificent and twinkling

A beautiful constellation

That is shining upon me?

 

Are you hiding behind the full moon?

A moon, calm and comforting

The complete façade

That is spreading its borrowed light on me?

 

Are you hiding among the woods?

The woods and trees that seem all lonely

The empty silence

That is lumbering down on me?

Are you hiding behind the sun?

The sun that is bright and radiant

The blinding fury

That is scorching down on me?

 

Are you hiding behind the mountains?

The mountains that are far and away

The scratchy road

That is soaring upon me?

 

Are you hiding among the seas and oceans?

The oceans that are waving in

The tumultuous uproar

That is really trembling me?

 

Are you hiding among the winds?

The winds, rapid and raw

A soft touch

That is truly whistling down on me?

 

In vain you hide from me

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

*

Thank you once again, if you have come this far!! Did not expect you to.

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The Velveteen Rabbit.

I have been told that some books that you read in your childhood, are meant for your childhood. Not be read in your yonger days, and not to be read as you grow. For they are mere fantasy plots, which make you believe in things untrue. But today, I feel literally no shame in saying out loud, that I am sitting near a raging and waving ocean and reading ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’.

You want to know what gave me the courage to do this. Well, it’s something like this-

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Okay, neither am a 10 year old nor a 50 year old. But what can I do when this was giving me pleasure beyond words. So I just went ahead and did it.

I read The Velveteen rabbit, sitting at the most favourite place in the world, when I could have done so many other things.

You are a Reader.

Today I have another reader realization, Bare with me..

 

You know you are a reader, you are certain that it is the only pleasure in your life, that it is the only solution to all your problems, that reading is the only source to digress yourself from all those problems, that reading is the only way to maintain sanity and that it is the only way to run away from reality.

 

So you think that you are a reader.

 

At least I thought so, or rather I think so, every time I see a book and find my mouth drooping at the magical words.

 

Until recently when I literally dozed off early in the morning, a book in my hand, and woke up after two hours only to realize that I was already running late for the day.

 

How come I dozed off? Well, as it happens, I am up for reading anything any place by anyone only till I am willing to do it, which is of my own accord. But as soon as someone pressurizes me for it, my mind stops working and I go numb. In this case, I am being pressurized by the so called ‘College people, here the examiners’.

 

My exams are coming up and I don’t understand why that this time I have to really try hard to even study what I like. My papers consists everything that I like, at least mostly what I like. I have to read theories, novels, stories and poems for them and yet here I am, trying to not nod off while preparing for them. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Had I heard of something from someplace else, I would definitely go and hunt down every little information about it and read it even in the middle of the night. But since it is in my syllabus all I am thinking about is that I have to study it, prepare an answer and then just write it down in my exam. I absolutely understand that this is wrong, the entire concept is wrong, this way I don’t understand anything and will be blindly following the teaching method usually applied. I have never been this, but I don’t know what is wrong. I am concentrating only on the fact that I have ‘exams.’

 

I’ll give you an instance, if I had come across the word ‘Marxism’ some place else then I was sure to Google every detail about it and read it till I understood it, but now that it is in my syllabus, I am almost day dreaming about sipping a drink near the ocean under the warm sun after my exams.

 

And I called myself a reader? I guess the problem is that not only I have to read it but understand it, retain it and prepare for the ‘exams’.

 

Okay, enough with the word ‘exams’ today, I guess I’ll go and pick up some long forgotten book which I might have read so many times, only to remind myself that I am a reader. 😀

 

 

To The One Who Dreams

Because I am feeling a little dreamy today,

Because I am reading something too beautiful today,

Because everything is too good to be true today,

Because I believe; today:

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