Simply Being | Simple Being

Books… sigh!

I have stopped reading. I hate to admit it but that’s the truth, simple and plain. I tried hard to read some recommended books a few months back. Somehow I lacked the patience to complete any one of them and as a result, returned all of them to the library, partially unread. It is strange, in a sad sort of way. Geetu and I were the kids who were brought up on the joy of reading. Mummy had read all the well-known books in her teens and Dad was the king of logic, philosophy, Kant and Russell. We were so crazy about reading that we didn’t need a TV during dinner but a book, that we needed. Daddy was not in favour of us buying novels and fiction. According to him, those books were not worth buying at all. In any case, between Pinch and I, we had a good collection. All the works of R K Narayan, all of John Steinbeck, a couple by Irving Stone, Robert Pirsig, James Herriot, Shashi Tharoor, Sartre, Kafka and so many more that I don’t even remember. Of course, I didn’t get all of them to USA. In any case, these days, I cannot last an entire book. Within a chapter or two, either one of two things happen. Either I race through the chapters, unable to control myself. Or I lose my attention, draw it back, then lose it again and after some unsuccessful attempts, return the book to the library. Thus, my list of unread/partly read books grows.

Now I’d like to read again but somehow I can’t find the confidence within. I’d hate to start on another book and then have to put it back into the bookshelf. Guess I should accept this as a strange but natural course of events and let it go. If I am destined to read another book in this lifetime, I probably will.