I liked to read a lot. From a very young age books became my friends. Readers Digest was a popular magazine at home and all of us read them, including me. I remember, when I was in 8th std (13 years), this neighbor lady asked me why at all do I read this book. Until then, I had not thought of that. Why do I read? I liked reading and I enjoyed reading much more than watching tv or chatting to the neighbor. She even eluded me against this very idea of reading saying we do not gain anything. Thankfully I was not impressed with her arguments which developed the dislike for each other but in my defense, I was young.
Years later, today, when I flip through a journal called “The Escapist”, it took me back to those good old times when I peacefully sat in a corner and read all day long. I wish I could tell this lady what it actually meant to have read all those book back then. When the busy nature of work keeps me occupied, I feel immensely grateful to have got the opportunity at the young age to have read all that I wanted to, to have truly enjoyed all the reading and the essence of all those books. It is one gift which life gave me and I cherish forever.