Reading – A journey never a destination

India celebrates National Reading Day on 19th June every year in honour of P.N. Panicker, the man behind Kerala’s Universal Literacy Rate of 100%. P.N. Panicker is also called as the Father of India’s Library Movement.

What started in 1996 as Reading Day in the state of Kerala in honour of Panicker’s memory has become a national celebration and a movement today. In 2017, the honourable P.M. Shri Narendra Modi launched the 22nd National Reading Month Celebrations, taking this event from state to the national level with the call of ‘Read and Grow’. The Central Board of Secondary Education with a clarion call to all schools has asked them to ‘celebrate Reading Day, Reading Week and Reading Month by organizing similar online activities as suggested by the Foundation or other activities by leveraging technology’.

“Books are a uniquely portable magic.” – Stephen King

I’ve always felt books are magical and have the power to take you places. For me reading has never been a chore but a powerful medium to travel in time and also to places I’ve never seen. Books have opened doors to me when I’ve wanted to escape. I only had to open the cover of a book and I would be walking down beautiful garden paths in ‘Alice in Wonderland’ or sitting beside Harry Potter at Hogwarts in the ‘Harry Potter Series’ or watching the Oompa Loompas dancing in ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ or witnessing Mr. Darcy proposing marriage to Elizabeth Bennet in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ or feeling sorry for the orphaned little David Copperfield looking at his Aunt Betsy over the gate in ‘David Copperfield’.

At a very young age, I was initiated into reading by my paternal grandmother and her sisters. My mother had already laid the foundation by narrating innumerable stories at bedtime. Often she would show me and my sister beautiful pictures in story books as she read to us. My grandmother too would tuck us in her own bed at times and tell us stories of birds and animals and fairies and saints and angels. So, when I officially began reading it was just the beginning of a marvellous adventure which still continues. I remember sitting at the dining table every Sunday morning, neatly dressed and with two plaits, waiting for my grandmother’s sisters to arrive. They would spend the Sundays with us. And, when they came home, my classes would begin. One hour of rigorous reading followed a pattern – stringing letters into words, recognizing words and pronouncing them correctly, reading with correct intonation of voice according to the mood and situation. Beautiful story books with large colourful pictures gifted by my father were covered with pencil marks as these two ‘perfectionists’ marked words and broke them into syllables so that I could pronounce them correctly. They would take me back and forth, back and forth over words. I hated the process at that time especially because I wanted to go ahead in the story; I wanted to know what happened at the end. The story would draw to a close only after three or four Sundays. It was quite frustrating! Finally, I don’t know how or when but I decided to try reading on my own, such was the desire to know what happened next in the story.

The story book had pictures of an ugly little duckling looking sad and lonely. It wasn’t easy to read alone but I pored over the pages trying to guess the story at first. I hesitantly started reading the words, pointing them with my finger, struggling with pronunciations. It took a long time but when I reached the end I knew something of the story. It was as if a curtain had been lifted and I felt overjoyed. I had read the story, if not completely but I understood what was happening. There was no stopping me after that. The thirst and hunger for books only grew. My parents fuelled it by bringing endless books for me over the years. The newspaperman was asked by my mother, during the summer vacation to deliver Hindi comics such as – Champak, Pinki and Chacha Choudhary. My father never came home empty handed from a tour; there were at least three to four books in his bag waiting to fall into my eager hands. These books had beautiful pictures, bright and colourful. Some had puzzles and mazes which added to their charm.

My first book with black and white images was Mr. Pink Whistle’s Party by Enid Blyton gifted by my maternal aunt. By then I was already reading classics, encouraged by my father – David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, Treasure Island, The Swiss family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, and the likes. The first adventure book my mother bought for me, I still remember, it was for my eleventh birthday – Five on a Treasure Island from The Famous Five Series penned by Enid Blyton. In School as a young teenager, I raided the library cupboards for more Enid Blytons and developed a taste for Detective Novels. Nancy Drew turned out to be my favourite girl detective and somehow still is. My first Nancy Drew novel – The Clue of the Black Keys, was a gift from cousins – Candida, Caroline and Chrystabel. Though today, I admire Sherlock Holmes a lot but Nancy has a special place too. In my senior years at School, Romance Novels made up a bulk of my reading. My mother gifted me my first Romance Novel, Sister Peters in Amsterdam by Betty Neels from where on I developed a love for this genre. I can’t fail to mention my reading buddy in school, Surbhi Kasliwal. We spent hours before the cupboards in the library carefully choosing novels which were of similar tastes so that we could read them and then swap them before the week was up and had to return them. The librarian at school, late Mrs. Manju Chouhan, was a kind person and encouraged me in this journey of reading by generously issuing books even to the extent of five a week (this was not permissible as a rule). A love for Shakespeare was born as a school student by reading Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb. This love deepened with Mrs. Sandra Lee’s classes on Macbeth in college.

An interaction with like-minded students and ex-students broadened the reading horizon. Srishti Ludhani, I remember, introduced me to one of my favourite author’s Ruskin Bond. One of the first books I read by Mr. Bond was Crazy Times with Uncle Ken. She had a large collection of books and novels and shared them generously. Sakshi Mehra, will always be special, more so because of her thoughtful acts and heart warming messages penned on paper. When this particular shining star received her first stipend, she got her ‘guru’, a book from ‘the favourite author’, titled – Upon an Old Wall Dreaming. In recent years, William Shakespeare was much of a topic for discussion with one Gyanika Rathore which had me turning to – The Twelfth Night, Merchant Of Venice and The Tempest, once again.

This list of gratitude and memories of reading is endless. Reading, I therefore feel isn’t just about books. It’s about building bonds and memories, stronger than anything one can ever imagine. Reading no doubt enhances vocabulary and this vocabulary aids you in expressing your deepest feelings and gratitude. Reading strengthens memory which helps you never forget the good someone does for you. Reading makes you sensitive enough to empathize with another person or animal. Reading sharpens the intellect and helps make valid arguments in the most practical manner. Reading dispels ignorance, broadens the thinking and encourages goodwill. Reading gives wings to the imagination which is essential for every human being to survive. Reading leads to a purging of emotions and brings hope.

Reading books, I can say has evoked a plethora of emotions for me – it has brought me laughter, has moved me to tears, terrified me, enchanted me, left me wanting for more, amazed me, left me baffled and has also got me into trouble. Yes o Yes! I’ve been caught red handed and scolded by my father for reading after lights out, under the quilt in torch light. My mother has caned me for not completing my home-work because I was too busy reading. Anyway let me stop here... this is getting a little embarrassing. Also, let me not bore you any more with my Tales of Books and Readings. I’m off to pursue a new novel I left half ways to pen this write-up. Which one is it, you ask. It’s a Romance by Betty Neels, ‘Never Say Goodbye’.

On this note, let me say goodbye... till we meet again next week! Till then happy reading!

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