Brethren of Beloved Books

Books have always been my best friends since my childhood. Though I didn't specifically buy them, I treasured the ones I got as gifts and prizes at school. I read and reread them. I was afraid to lend them to my friends, chances were high they might lose them and return only the apologies and not the books. But it did happen one day. A cousin with his own huge collection asked for my storybook. Putting myself in his position and understanding that there is nothing called 'enough books', I lent the book to him. I never got my book back. It was a thin, long book about 20 pages, an illustrated version of a story about a crow and the bread crumbs it followed. Maybe it was 'Hansel and Gretel', but couldn't relate to it. I searched bookstores, and even now after the advent of the internet, used keywords to track the book online, but nothing reminded me of the story in my book. I was heartbroken.

After that, the other books were all stored in a secret location, until recently. I was forced to give away my precious childhood possessions during my house shifting. I was tricked into this by saying that someone will love them much more than I do. My collection included the hard copy of “Bunny Tales - A collection of bedtime stories”, The Hound of Baskervilles, The Great Expectations, Sarada Devi’s biography (Illustrated), The Black Beauty, Gulliver’s Travels, English textbooks of all my schooling days and a few more.

I never faced the problem of giving away my school textbooks or readers, as we called it then, as they were mandatory for everyone to have at school. But my collection so tender and yet profound should need a proper owner. So after careful consideration, I gave them to my maid’s kids. They were around 5-7 years old and will find a friend among the Big Ear and the Long Foot Bunnies.

In our family, textbooks were revered. That is why they were passed to everyone year after year for 4-5 years till they reach the end with the entry of new syllabus. Or maybe it was just a cost cutting. But will the kids consider my collection worthy to read and reread or will they end up in the dusty attic. I regretted I should have added them to my current collection. I inquired my maid about this and she replied that the kids loved the books especially the illustrated ones. But knowing that they are in good hands, gave me satisfaction.Good, I smiled.

Months passed and it was the rainy season. I was over with my concern about my books. But my world turned upside down when I saw some kids making paper boats with the pages of Great Expectations. I was shattered when the found the book with just its outer cover and no pages. I wouldn’t shout, I couldn’t explain. I simply told them books are to read but not to make paper boats. I gave a serious stare and walked away to the utter disappointment of the kids.

I walked in the same water that was strewn with boats, taking care not to stamp one. They were moving quickly, seemingly happy about the newfound freedom, while I was still trying to figure which page was it and what story happened in it. As I walked in despair, I took the next lane only to find a couple of eager kids scampering in the rain. I stopped and looked at them in awe. They were collecting the paper boats coming from the previous lane, unfolding them, wiping them on the dry towel and drying them in the veranda. I smiled a big smile. Here continues my legacy and I knew where my books would go from now on. They were the kids from the neighboring building and thus we became soul mates. What you deserve you get. A person gets a proper book and book gets a proper owner.

The Road To My Destination

People change and so their views and tastes. But ambitions and goals always remain the same. At least that is what I thought, until I grew up. But for all those who think 'Change is the essence of life', this is a simple example. And I humbly leave it to you to decide if my story goes with the famous adage or against it.

When I was 2 years old, I used to bicker, argue, fight with my own people. I used to talk and tell endless stories like no one of my age did. Seeing this, everyone said I would make a perfect lawyer. And so, I grew up behaving like I'm-a-gonna-be-lawyer.

When I was 5, I played the most favorite 'Teacher Game' with my fellow mates. I would always become the teacher and make my friends act as students. With a stick held in my hand and a chunni draped around my tiny torso, I would look like a kid possessed by 50 year old. In this get-up I would call myself Miss Monica. People said I was born to become a teacher. I felt flattered. As time passed, my students disappeared. And my addiction to teaching took time to end and mean while, the walls promised to become by students.

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At 10, one fine day I was walking with my mom on the road. I saw a pamphlet of an institute which teaches computer courses like Java and others. I pointed and showed it to my mom with an expression of achievement. With the innocent unawareness of the Engineering boom I said,  "I m gonna do Java". My mom laughed loudly and said that Java means malt and teased me "Are you gonna make java?". I corrected her saying, "I m going to study Java". My mom smiled at my confidence.

Years passed. Like Katrina Kaif always said that was just a trailer, the movie has started just now. Gone were those days when I wanted to become what people visualized me as. Now is the time I decided that I m going to become a doctor. And also to my support is the astrologer on the Necklace Road. But as I reached my higher school I started hating Science and Biology, being more specific the teachers of those subjects.

I am a maths freak. Yes, till date I am. So I took up MPC as my Intermediate course. Without much struggle cleared it and joined in an Engineering college, not just an ordinary college but the best one in the city (forgot to mention a college just for women). My life completely changed after that. I knew as I stepped into the college this is where I belong to. This was never in my wish list. It need not be. What matters is whether I am happy or not. As I checked the syllabus, in one of the semester, I found Java as my core subject. My happiness knew no bounds at that moment. That was one of my childhood dreams and I declare, the only one that is fulfilled. I slowly started liking my course. And thus my goal was set. This time a firm one. I decided I am gonna work for a company where I can implement the subject I studied here. This is gonna be my destination, I told myself. I dreamt of it, dreamt of it all the four years. And yes, I achieved this dream. Its only later that I came to know it was more of my parents dream than mine.

Dreams may or may not change. But our desire to fulfill them must always remain the same.

The Road of Relations

Yesterday, I was walking on the road. Not that this is the first time I am walking, but it is very rare for me to come out at 7 in the morning. I didn't know the day starts so early for many people, maybe I live in my own world. Its really surprising to see what all that happens during these early mornings. I saw small groups of beggars (many may feel this as an inappropriate word, but a substitute won't change the meaning) sitting, probably with their families or friends, having a hearty chit-chat. They were sharing that little food, they held preciously in their hands bought at the places where I as a student with limited-preserved pocket-money used to go. Every time I give a coin to a beggar, I had named the feeling I see in their faces as Happiness. But now realised that was just gratefulness. Happiness is what I saw in their eyes when they are with their loved ones. But the question is which of these two feelings is of prime importance. This is yet another doubt added to the humongous number of confusions in my life.

Then I saw a young couple walking hand in hand. The guy was on a call and the girl was busy selecting songs in her iPod. Initially, I assumed that to be just another example of our modern life. They were together only physically and were walking being each engaged with their own self. The next moment the girl placed one of the earphones in her partner's ears and smiled warmly. The guy smiled back with the look that said I am-happy-to-have-you-by-my-side and responded quickly by hanging up his cell. This small incident taught me the meaning of perfect understanding. It is giving our mates their own space and at the same time not giving them a chance to miss you.

I took a turn from that road and headed in a different direction. But it's only later that I came to know that it was not just a turn, but a twist. I saw a half-naked woman, around 50 lying on the footpath shouting in the language of pain and only pain. I saw a dosa bandi here too, only that the bandi had no customers. He reduced the rate and increased the size of dosa. But for no use. I saw a lovely couple, the guy was trying to catch up with the girl walking ahead of him, trying to talk, maybe convince. But for no use. A college student who missed his bus, tried painfully hard to catch it. But for no use. This is it I thought, that turn there was the end of Road Of Relations.

As the time passed by few minutes and my walk crossed by few kilometres, the road became busy with some students rushing to their colleges, some waiting for their buses, eyes on cell, fingers punching the keypad and a smile on face. People appeared to carry an I am-all-geared-up aura around them. Yes, they were employees both white-collared and blue. The chai-wala has already started serving his customers-cum- dearest friends.The dosa stall uncle was putting up a tent before his bandi, the chai-wala was helping him and people have already started flooding.