Adolescence can be confusing. It can be way too good to some and outright cruel to some others. Well, at least that’s what it makes you think. It all begins with the shift from primary school to higher primary. From pencils to writing with ink pens. At some places, from shorts to full pants for guys. For many girls, it is the journey from cute little hair bands to long plaits and bouncy pony tails. Amidst all this, lays the gullible souls; the head, the mind and oh hey, the heart. You know adolescence had hit you when your mind started wandering meaninglessly and made you the centre of all social issues and you being the target, of course. Your hair looks horrible while everyone else has such good hair days every day. Well, I am exaggerating. I, personally, didn’t experience such dilemma besides the drama happening around, I did get hear all this from the ones whom I dealt with everyday. I owe all that mental peace and evenings that weren’t spent gossiping on the phone to one of my dearest of friends; books. Not that I was anti social or didn’t mingle around, oh I did. I did sit and chat about people and not-people with my classmates during the breaks and on the school bus. Occasionally, we would hang out or grab a bite too. Just that I didn’t bother comparing myself with the ones engulfing me all day long and hence felt less miserable.
Books, I best buddies. The library smelt of heaven to me. The silence was sweet music. Running my fingers through rows of neatly stacked books made me smile ear to ear. I would read them for hours at a stretch. I was whole heartedly willing to not go out shopping with the family so that I would be able to complete the book, the curiosity was a better driving force than any 20 cylinder diesel engine. Home work could wait, TV shows could wait, novels couldn’t. The library would allow us borrow books for a week but I would have read mine within a couple of days and be back way before time. There were books that I re-borrowed/issued for a couple of weeks too; Wings Of Fire by Dr. Kalam being the first of that kind, I clearly remember. There was Nancy Drew, there were Goosebumps, there was Swaminathan from Malgudi, there were silly love stories that didn’t quite please me always, there were adventures by Enid Blyton, there were classics, there were magazines, there was the never disappointing newspaper, there were mysteries, there were comic, I could just go on! With time, I began reading bigger books, bigger in terms of literature and depth. Books with more meaning, books that moved me, books that made me ponder, books that built pretty cottages for themselves in my soul, books that influenced me and books that made, above all, a happy person. Books were and still are my virtual medium to teleport to wherever it decides to take me. If there is anything that books do not do, it is disappoint. If they ever do let you down, it is only because you expected too much out of it. Back then, books were my mode to escape from what could have been unpleasant, a savior. As days and years passed by, they became a part and parcel of me.
For me, they are books. What is your escape route?
Till Next Time,