Random musings of a bookworm

Every day, I promise myself that I will use the upcoming weekend for sightseeing, enjoying this beautiful country I am in, get out, meet people, burn off the fat that sneaks up on me unnoticed….

And then, Saturday morning dawns.

I initiate the obligatory “Cleaning Protocol”. Put things away, take out the trash, clean up my physical and virtual spaces.

In doing so, I stumble across a book. A hard copy (rare in my world today), an e-copy. Sometimes, a scribbled note reminding myself that I just have to get such-and-such book.

Sightseeing suddenly loses its appeal. I quickly finish up chores and settle down with a book. It is not advisable to be in the sun between 10am and 4pm anyway, so might as well read. If the book is too good, I might even disconnect the internet and turn off my phone to ensure that real life does not intrude. I must be easy to please, as that happens more often than not.

The enigmatic allure of books, their lusty siren song, the iridescent worlds they open doors to- I am a slave to all that. Although, I do think that in this fast-paced life filled with roller-coasters and unpleasant surprises lurking at every corner, it is a blessing that I have the time to read.

Last week I enjoyed Assimov’s “Youth”, am finishing up Hesse’s “Narcisuss and Goldmund” (Bye-Bye Weekend) and already got my hands on “The Martian” (did I say Bye-Bye Weekend?). As I settle down with my mug of hot chocolate and begin to meld into the lives of fictional characters, I make a silent toast to writers the world over- present and past and future. You guys are my heroes.