About Books and Reading Again

I happened to come across this. Generally I ignore such buzzfeed lists, but then this one was about the stages of a “book addict”, so I decided to glance through it.

Yes reading is an addiction, true and as I go through this list I realise I have gone through most of these stages. I have bought a book on a whim either because everyone was talking about it or because no one was talking about it. And I swear most of the times, I liked those books which few people talked about, or cared to read. But then may be people around me hardly read good books.

Then comes the next stage where either I am hooked on to the book and don’t want to put it down, or it is one of those books which you want to beat your head with because you bought it. I had also sometimes taken the responsibility of promoting the book I like among the people around me. I remember how I went around telling each and every one I knew to buy and read Shantaram.  Sadly very few people enjoyed it. I spent hours trying to figure out why they did not like this book, but then someone told me, “It is such a fat book…” After that I gave up thinking. I knew the reasons.

When I like a book, every idle minute seems like a minute wasted. I remember how I regretted not carrying The Little Prince to school, because there were free periods when I could have read pages.  But I agree the best reading happens may be after 11 PM. True, it is very annoying when so many people looks at you bewildered because you are reading a book while waiting for a bus or travelling in a metro.

Then when you are almost towards the end of the book, comes in the dilemma. I mean I know the book is so good that I am going to miss reading it once I am done with it, but then again, I want to know how it ends. This happened with me while I was reading A Palace of Illusions.

Drifting to the world of the book happens to me often, and then getting attached to the characters of that book. Feeling their pain, being sad for them, being happy in their happiness, Feeling their longing, their love. And then the change in opinion about a character as the story advances. Like I am almost done with Cuckold now, and I felt so many things for Maharaj Kumar and so many things for Kausalya (No I won’t go on about them over here. I don’t plan to write about the book in bits and parts in all my posts.).

I am sure some of you will be able to connect to this list and appreciate it may be. But what is sad is very few people read these days. And I will tell you what is sadder. People buy well known books, so that they can just flaunt it. Ask them to talk about it, and they would become very busy. And what hurts "book addicts" like us is the fact that we lend books happily, to encourage reading, but then people either don't return those books or return them after soiling them beyond recognition. For Heaven's sake, when would they understand that books are like a part of the heart we are giving out?!  I think they never will... Facebook-ing and texting and shopping and other trivialities are more important. When I ask my students to write about their favourite authors and books, they look at me blankly. My heart aches…

A Book And A Few Things About Love Again

I was musing about love again, and reading Cuckold opened many more new avenues in my mind. In Cuckold, I came across different kinds of love. Maharaj Kumar’s love for Leelavati. How he treats the small kid as her sister and loves her with all his heart. He considers her as his only connection with Sumitra: his sister whom he lost at a very young age to a deadly infectious disease.

We come across Maharaj Kumar’s love for his sister, Sumitra, whom he still remembers and aches for after so many years of losing her. The wound has healed but the last memories of her is still very strong in his mind. How he hated to sit beside his sister when she was on her death bed, yet could not leave because he knew she needed him. How he hated to see his sister die in front of his eyes, yet could not turn his face away. Made me wonder, is it possible to love someone so much, that we do things which we actually hate to do? May be loving is doing things for others which make them happy, and not really thinking about my happiness. May be someday I would be able to love like that.

Then there is Kausalya, Maharaj Kumar’s dai. This character intrigued me the most (well I haven’t finished the book yet. So I must say, so far.). She breast fed the Maharaj Kumar, thrashed him, when he needed it. Looked after him like a mother, loved and protected him throughout, and introduced him to sex as well. Can we imagine such a woman living around us? Very rare no?  Maharaj Kumar realises his depth of love and yearning for his “mother, guide, protector, friend, confidant and lover” much later in life when he thinks he had lost her. The most precious moment for Kausalya, I think was when, Maharaj Kumar lies down on her sore ugly distorted body and says, “I will never let you go away.”

It hurts me to see how much Maharaj Kumar yearns for his own wife. How much he wants her to love him back. He just can’t do anything that would make her love him. It is sad how he tries everything, from praying to the goddesses to beating her up, but in vain. He just can’t accept the fact that his wife could be married to the “blue God”. It is more difficult for him to accept this may be because, he love Krishna as well. He loved Krishna in all forms and all his ages. He grew up listening to stories about Baal Gopal and reading about the grown up Krishna. He often wondered about Krishna’s varied character and more often than not connected with him. Of all the Gods, Krishna was the closest to him and easier to reach out, and now his wife claimed to be married to that God. It was difficult for him to accept that.

To soothe his heart aches he tried to get satisfaction from the washer man’s wife, Sunheria.  Though he wanted the relationship to be only sexual, he got many other pleasures from her. Suheria could put him to sleep, could ease his pain, could talk to him, and somewhere he thought, Sunheria understood him more than his wife could ever do.  He loved her too… For making him believe that he needed to let go off his worries and sorrows at times. For making him realise that, “Self-pity is an indulgence one cannot afford.”

Then there was the princess. Maharaj kumar’s wife. The poor thing couldn't help it. She understood her husband’s pain. She tried her best to make him happy. She did the little she could. But at the same time she knew she could not do any more. How could she do anything more than that? She was betrothed to someone else. She loved him and was dedicated to him. She was forced to marry Maharaj Kumar as no one understood her love for the Blue God. She wrote letters to the Blue God, complaining about his ignorance towards her. She sang songs for him. She was not even concious about her actions when she sat in front of him to pray. Her love for Krishna was something which I would call pure in the truest of the meaning. She worshipped him, loved him and was married to him. The relationship was so pure that she failed to understand why her husband was upset with her and why everyone called her names. She cried out to Krishna and asked him to protect her honour. Such deep was the trust that she knew that she would be protected. Her love, her Blue God would come to her and take care of everything. Take away all her sorrows and make the "Blue Sun" shine. 

I will probably write more about the book later, when I am done with it. It surely deserves an individual blog post and a much longer one.

Love is like a mirage I think. It is an impression we want to hold on to for as long as we can. It is like a belief that keeps us going. It is like the first shower after the scorching summer. When we can’t find that love where we expect it the most, we feel helpless. We look around desperately try all measures and means to find it and get it.  What we forget is that love is not possessing someone; it is all about giving the person we love as much freedom as they want… It is all about making that person happy, enjoying moments with him, understanding the person, passing through difficult times together and looking forward to spending happy times together.

Some people are born with the capacity to love. To love with a warm heart, anyone who seems to touch their heart. Leave an impression on them. But it is sad how these are the people who don’t get the love back most of the times. The fault or the shortcoming is not with them. It is the incapability of the greater mass to understand such depth and seriousness and take that love. To enjoy the privilege. It is however sad that these people don’t feel the loss. They are not capable of understanding the importance of love may be. It is sad how the world is full of these trivial people: People who would live their trivial lives with a pit of emptiness at the bottom of their stomach, and try to make themselves feel important by going to “happening” parties and buying smart gadgets, Only to realise when it is too late, that someone somewhere loved them deeply and wanted something good to happen to them. But by then it is too late and all they can do is sigh and wish that their minds worked differently when they were younger and when there was still time.