I need to start knitting perhaps. Reminds me of those art and craft classes where I would produce amazingly shitty stuff (I never allowed my mother to help me ) while others produced things of real beauty. GOD!
Once upon a time when I picked up a book, there was no Wikipedia, no Google and I was ignorant and happy. I would just pick it up and read. That is how I discovered that I did not really care about Hardy Boys but I loved Malory Towers. A Famous Five made me impatient while a Secret Seven was just the right length and I loved haughty Peter.
My parents don't read a lot. Ma does, and Dadu did but Baba does not. So I did not grow up with sets of rochonabolis like some people do. I envy them. When I went to Didar bari there was this rack with stacks and stacks of old worn out magazines and comics. So I digested too many Reader's Digest magazines and read a lot of Nonte-Fonte and other stuff. Golper Boi was a luxury item received on birthdays. I received a Sukumar Ray book on one birthday and many others. Apart from this there were those chapters in the school text books which were not the syllabus.
Then there was that Sri Aurobindo library at Shakespeare Sarani. I went there every Saturday and for a few months I brought home two Agatha Christie books every weekend. At that time British Council did not have a large fiction section. I fell in love with Poirot and found Miss.Marple to be rather funny.
Then there was the rather exciting Sidney Sheldon phase, (grrrr) many of my friend's parents had forbidden it. Mine didn't know about it. The first book I read was Tell Me Your Dreams and I was kind of scared (I am a big phattu and the whole MPD thing scared me)..so read many more and then I discovered that these books didn't last. It was a racy affair that left nothing behind. So after the few odd books it was all over.
Then I read Ayn Rand. Her style is OMG good. (what a disgusting sentence!) For a while I was so fascinated with Roark, Frisco and the whole Objectivism thingy ( why not straightaway say capitalism? She knew the spelling I'm sure!). But I loved the books. Still do. But I like to read them as books which shouldn't be taken too seriously. There are some people who act as if their life was shit and suddenly Fountainhead turned all that shit into glistening diamonds. They eat sleep and drink Objectivism, suddenly they feel as if by not sharing a pencil with a fellow student he or she is acting in accordance with the high ideals of Objectivism. They annoy me! ANNOY!
I think that woman took herself too seriously but a good read nevertheless.
One phase I did not go through and all my friends did was the Harry Potter phase. Haven't read a single one. I hate the hype. When a few people go gaga about something and start screaming in my ears all day I lose patience and get irritated and vow not to do it. Frankly its nothing to be proud of, and I really want to read those now but anyway forget it. Oh come to think of it I haven't read any fantasy lit at all. The Hobbit- okay. But not the LOTR series. I like real people.
In between there were many texts that I liked in school but there was an awful lot of Saratchandra in our syllabus- Abhagir Swarga, Nishkriti and so on. I liked his simple language but it was all too depressing. Shailoja could drown for all I cared. I liked Srikanto at that time though.
Oh and the beauty of not having too much info, was reading some bad books. The so-bad-that-they-are-good type. I read a Shobhaa De book called "Speed Post" where she wrote letters to her numerous children. I was blessed with a lot of will-power because I finished that stupid one. I also read Dan Brown, didn't like.
So why am I rambling? Well, simply because I am DYING to have those days back. Days when I could just read and be done with it. Not have to view my favourite books with some magnifying glass to find this and that. I loved Jane Eyre when I knew nothing about Bertha being a colonized person. Not that regret all this but simply at some point one gets so tired. SO fucking tired. The reason I did not opt for "Pride and Prejudice " in a particular paper was because I did not want to spoil the romance in my head by manufacturing yet another answer on plot-character-some other crap. I want that mushy mushy Darcy Elizabeth thing in my head forever. I want to imagine Colin Firth taking that dip in that pool till the day I die. I am utterly hopeless when it comes to this. I thought Keira made a rather malnourished Elizabeth in the later version.
Another reason why I rambled was the fact that I have lately started reading e-books and I do not like it a bit. Earlier it was just a few pages , some essays and that's all. Now these are BOOKS. I have chokh e byatha, Ghar e byatha , and at times I feel I am imagining all the byathas. I told my father to get me a Kindle or a Laptop. Of course I was joking. What the hell will I do with a laptop? It's for people on the go. The only places I go to are City Centre, Park Street, and friend's house... a laptop is not needed in any of these places. So my neck can have a royal time making life miserable for me while I sit and read these.
Bleh. Bleh. Bleh.
PS- I have decided to keep my toothbrush and tooth paste in a pen stand in my room instead of the usual cupboard near the wash basin. I always feel that toothbrush bristles need an airing and that particular place may have spiders and cockroaches. Also my mother uses a red toothpaste I abhor so I keep mine separately else someone will use it up and I'll be compelled to use the awful red one. So there is a vase, some photo frames, a card, stupid putuls, a soft toy, a pen stand and in it my brush and paste. The point of this whole thing is simply this - I am losing it. Do I have OCD??? The other day I screamed at my friend who put her unwashed index finger in my lip balm tub. I hate that lip balm , still I felt that it was a rather unhygienic act. Shoo!