From childhood, books have been my favourite company. Being a solitary child, they filled my lazy afternoons and purposeless holidays and transported me to lands of mystery, adventure, smile and hope. I did not had the luxury of choices though and was compelled to read whatever came my way – from Tintin to Roy of Rovers, Sherlock Holmes to Uncle Tom’s Cabin. As the time flew by, the variation increased with increase of the size of my world and purchasing power. Some little gems like Jonathan Livingston Seagull and The Little Prince sent my spirit soaring while hilarious classics like Catch 22, Three Man in a Boat and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy made me guffaw in inopportune occasions, much to the dismay of people around me. And then there were the masterpieces which made my jaw drop with admiration of the depth of knowledge and character about the persons responsible for producing them – books like The Brothers Karamazov, War and Peace, To Kill a Mockingbird and Cry, Beloved Country fell into such category. Often the world around me would take a different texture as I would perceive it through the eyes of the protagonists of these works. Of course, these would have some impact on my daily life and my wife would ask me from time to time that what the matter with me was. I hope by now she knows that these are the phases to be endured. I guess she is relieved too with the knowledge that the most adventurous act I am capable of is to smuggle a bundle of books worth couple of thousand bucks furtively while some of the other husbands she knows often return with female perfumes in their cloth from workplaces or knock the wrong door at night after a particularly tedious day at ‘office’. I understand that the world is changing fast and so are the hobbies of the people inhabiting it. They have much more exciting options and my choice may not appeal too many but I remain content. My ten year old son too has now joined me and we together enjoy the exploits of Vitalstatistix, Calvin and Captain Haddock these days. I agree that planting trees or helping poor children is a much more noble act but we are discussing entertainment here and in this I find the pure bliss and other benefits which a good book can provide is hard to beat provided one does not get to carried away by Vampire stories or start exploring the different shades of colours after reading them. The purpose of writing the piece, apart from engaging into some self indulgence, is to share the name of some of my favourite books with my friends and I will be delighted to be reciprocated by them with their list of favourite books and authors for nothing pleases me more than discussing books.
