By instinct, I have never ever been an avid reader of books. By books, I don't mean to imply only novels and genres. That would be akin to putting my course books in ignominy and I definitely don't like to carry that burden. For those who don't know me, yours truly trudged his way through 4 eventful years at a decent engineering College down south. It's quite obvious that studying thousands of miles away from your home isn't that lucrative a business. Something, measly similar to callousness, had been my companion in the latter part of my studies. I loathed the very idea of picking up hard bound books to go through the details of a transistor. As if that was not enough, we had to wage a battle against one of the most crappy subjects in the name of Power electronics. A Gate, source and drain was all I had to take care of but that was not to be. A DC Chopper has given me more horrendous nights than a possible ghost sighting!
Nevertheless, I seem to be digressing from my point. I am not here to share my horror story.
Having told that books are not my companion, I have been doing just the opposite for heaven's sake, of late. Yes, you guessed it right. I have started to like reading books. How on earth is this possible? But I seem to like this change.
For the first time in few months, I really look forward to something. There is suddenly a buzz of excitement in my daily chores. Blame it on my new found trait or the exemplary story telling skills of the writers in question, I simply love this addiction. I would like to believe that latter was the cause. Because that would make me more happy for a reason. If I cite the reason, I would be proclaimed as over ambitious. But my simple query to all of them is - "how do you quantify ambition?". But I am all too happy to take these things in my stride. What I am concerned and happy about is my latest "crush". I am not sure, what opinions others will have about my choice or taste about the books I choose to read. It was quite by chance or serendipity,(My blog name..yippee!) if I am allowed to call it, that I stumbled upon the first of the two books in question.
The biggest incentive of reading those books, was the sense of connectivity with the writer's thought process. Both the books set in the backdrop of an emerging India, ambitions and non satiable desire to succeed, it's quite obvious to feel the connection coming from the same social fabric and mental frame of mind. There is something in emotions, which helps find connection where even reason fails to take effect. An emotional India is what I represent and so do others like me.
Or is it something different which is quite amiss in my current frame of mind. Am I mistaking it for something else. The connect is due to the plight of the characters in my books, or due to the writing habits of the writers. I am not able to make out. But both the propositions are good as far as I am concerned. The former makes me marvel at the writing abilities of the writer(s) and the latter gives me a sense of pride which is quite unmatched.
The writers I am talking about are not-that-big in comparision to prolific writers like Salman Rushdie, Vikram Seth, Jeffery Archer and one certain Dorris Lessing. But as one of them has aptly put, "I don't want to be the most admired writer in the country. I want to be the most loved one." The connect lies here. And so their books rock.
With due respect to other writers, I must mention that I get my share of nirvana from reading books like these. I hope to continue with this change in my life.
By the way, Dan Brown isn't that bad at writing novels. I hope I will have something new to share on this front in near future. Until then keep reading!
