My first crush had been Fatty. How i admired the suave, quick thinking, self confident 'find outer'. In fact he had given me the courage to tackle dicey situations, so what if I was a child. Mr. Goon, the bumbling policeman was no match for him, never would be. My library teacher embodied Goon. She loved books as much as i did, but for some reason, she hated to lend the books to the children. She was so nasty, such a sour faced character that the children were petrified to even be in her class, leave alone ask for books. But even thru her, and hence via my love for books, i learnt a very valuable lesson.
It happened like this: One day browsing in the library, i discovered 'Anne Of Green Gables' and was instantly hooked. Alas! My teacher thought otherwise. There i stood, a wee little thing, all of ten, my chin hardly reaching her desk, and i had the temerity to choose something that was sooo beyond my years ?! She ordered me to pick a 'Noddy' or some other Enid Blyton. Though i loved Blyton, dearly, i stared back, my glasses glinting defiantly at her. Riled, she changed her mind, and told me, face thrust into mine, eyes glaring back, that i could keep the book. But. When i returned it, i had to tell her the story, as well as the meaning of any words, she chose to ask me.
Sword of Damocles hanging over my head, i nonetheless enjoyed the book, albeit going over each page for meanings i didn't know. My livid mom, threatened to go to the principal to complain about her, but petrified of the consequences, i restrained her. I entered the library, heart thumping so loudly i was sure she could hear it. There she sat, the embodiment of Scrooge ( the Christmas Carol one, certainly not my beloved 'Unca Scrooge Mcduck' ) Fingers crossed, i tried to hide behind the bookshelves, but alas, her eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she reached out a hand and drew me out. Then began the inquisition. As it progressed, i metamorphosed from a quivering bundle of nerves to a confident almost cocky figure, answering all her queries with a firm, if high pitched, voice. Feeling almost like Matilda vanquishing principal Trunchbull ( 'Matilda,' Roald Dahl) i stood my ground. Finally she backed off, teeth gnashing, bald pate glistening, directing her wrath at the poor soul whose turn was next. That day, i learnt to stand up for my rights, that might is not always right, and for these reasons, the 'Anne' series occupies pride of place in my collection now.
She was awesome, Agatha Christie. Oh, how i adored 'Miss Marple' and loved Poirot wholeheartedly. Her books gave me a love for mystery. It opened doors that i hadn't even known existed. I was on the outside, peering in, while i explored the human psych, vis a vis Christie. The whole household was in an upheaval the day my mum lost her precious diamond ear rings. My dear absent minded mum periodically had these spells wherein she misplaced stuff, which we then hunted for with great gusto, for it meant an icecream or two for all of us. But this time it was serious. As time passed, and they were not located, mum grew increasingly frantic. Then i got down to sleuthing. As Poirot would, i asked a few questions. When had she last worn them ? Two weeks ago was the testy reply. Where had she gone ? Had she returned very late? Which clothes had she been wearing ? The replies had been getting more and more terse, but at this last question her eyes lit up. "Oh, Of course !" she exclaimed slapping a hand to her forehead. Diving into her closet, all we could hear was incoherent mumbling from within, until she finally emerged triumphantly holdin aloft the said ear rings. Since it had been very late, she had slipped the ear rings into her dress pocket, intending to put them away the next morning.
Ah the 'Mills and Boon' phase of life. Was a boon to my hormone riddled teenage. Fortunately, there were no tall and dark and handsome types anywhere around, except in my dreams and so i progressed. To the world of Harry Potter. I had grown up with spells and elves and magic, but the magic these books brought into my life lasted seven years as i grew up dreaming big dreams, encouraged by all these fabulous people, both fictional and non, who enriched my life beyond measure. Enchanted with 'Scarlet', in love with 'Rhett Butler, i read Gone with the Wind as if my life depended on finishing it. Ah 'Roots'. Oh 'To kill A Mocking Bird'. No hero could however match the stature, in fact, i'm quite sure even my future husband will have a tough time measuring up to 'Mr. Darcy' of Pride and Prejudice. I so embibed Elizabeth Bennet, that it took my mum considerable patience to make sense of the old world English i started spouting, after reading it.
The world is my oyster now, as i dive into historical fiction. Hitler and the havoc he wrought on the Jews, their valient battles of survival as described in 'Exodus', The struggle for independance by the catholics in Ireland. The heroics and the violence that was the upbringing of Babur and the Mughul rulers of India.
Oh yes! Books have been the time machine which took me back and forth thru the ages. Oh, a last piece of advice, dear reader : Don't forget to smell the old tomes you own. That fragrance is magical, and not to be missed. Books are the magic wand i discovered, that helped me create my own magical world.
"So what if you are an only child," my mom often told me. "Books will be your companions. Your whole life." I discovered that she was absolutely right.
It happened like this: One day browsing in the library, i discovered 'Anne Of Green Gables' and was instantly hooked. Alas! My teacher thought otherwise. There i stood, a wee little thing, all of ten, my chin hardly reaching her desk, and i had the temerity to choose something that was sooo beyond my years ?! She ordered me to pick a 'Noddy' or some other Enid Blyton. Though i loved Blyton, dearly, i stared back, my glasses glinting defiantly at her. Riled, she changed her mind, and told me, face thrust into mine, eyes glaring back, that i could keep the book. But. When i returned it, i had to tell her the story, as well as the meaning of any words, she chose to ask me.
Sword of Damocles hanging over my head, i nonetheless enjoyed the book, albeit going over each page for meanings i didn't know. My livid mom, threatened to go to the principal to complain about her, but petrified of the consequences, i restrained her. I entered the library, heart thumping so loudly i was sure she could hear it. There she sat, the embodiment of Scrooge ( the Christmas Carol one, certainly not my beloved 'Unca Scrooge Mcduck' ) Fingers crossed, i tried to hide behind the bookshelves, but alas, her eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she reached out a hand and drew me out. Then began the inquisition. As it progressed, i metamorphosed from a quivering bundle of nerves to a confident almost cocky figure, answering all her queries with a firm, if high pitched, voice. Feeling almost like Matilda vanquishing principal Trunchbull ( 'Matilda,' Roald Dahl) i stood my ground. Finally she backed off, teeth gnashing, bald pate glistening, directing her wrath at the poor soul whose turn was next. That day, i learnt to stand up for my rights, that might is not always right, and for these reasons, the 'Anne' series occupies pride of place in my collection now.
She was awesome, Agatha Christie. Oh, how i adored 'Miss Marple' and loved Poirot wholeheartedly. Her books gave me a love for mystery. It opened doors that i hadn't even known existed. I was on the outside, peering in, while i explored the human psych, vis a vis Christie. The whole household was in an upheaval the day my mum lost her precious diamond ear rings. My dear absent minded mum periodically had these spells wherein she misplaced stuff, which we then hunted for with great gusto, for it meant an icecream or two for all of us. But this time it was serious. As time passed, and they were not located, mum grew increasingly frantic. Then i got down to sleuthing. As Poirot would, i asked a few questions. When had she last worn them ? Two weeks ago was the testy reply. Where had she gone ? Had she returned very late? Which clothes had she been wearing ? The replies had been getting more and more terse, but at this last question her eyes lit up. "Oh, Of course !" she exclaimed slapping a hand to her forehead. Diving into her closet, all we could hear was incoherent mumbling from within, until she finally emerged triumphantly holdin aloft the said ear rings. Since it had been very late, she had slipped the ear rings into her dress pocket, intending to put them away the next morning.
Ah the 'Mills and Boon' phase of life. Was a boon to my hormone riddled teenage. Fortunately, there were no tall and dark and handsome types anywhere around, except in my dreams and so i progressed. To the world of Harry Potter. I had grown up with spells and elves and magic, but the magic these books brought into my life lasted seven years as i grew up dreaming big dreams, encouraged by all these fabulous people, both fictional and non, who enriched my life beyond measure. Enchanted with 'Scarlet', in love with 'Rhett Butler, i read Gone with the Wind as if my life depended on finishing it. Ah 'Roots'. Oh 'To kill A Mocking Bird'. No hero could however match the stature, in fact, i'm quite sure even my future husband will have a tough time measuring up to 'Mr. Darcy' of Pride and Prejudice. I so embibed Elizabeth Bennet, that it took my mum considerable patience to make sense of the old world English i started spouting, after reading it.
The world is my oyster now, as i dive into historical fiction. Hitler and the havoc he wrought on the Jews, their valient battles of survival as described in 'Exodus', The struggle for independance by the catholics in Ireland. The heroics and the violence that was the upbringing of Babur and the Mughul rulers of India.
Oh yes! Books have been the time machine which took me back and forth thru the ages. Oh, a last piece of advice, dear reader : Don't forget to smell the old tomes you own. That fragrance is magical, and not to be missed. Books are the magic wand i discovered, that helped me create my own magical world.
"So what if you are an only child," my mom often told me. "Books will be your companions. Your whole life." I discovered that she was absolutely right.
If id have written about the topic, id have penned the same! (escepting any mention whatsoever of the Mills & Boon ofcourse!)
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