Pleasures of Reading- “Sitting in Bombay, Experiencing London…”

You are in London. A young lady in black sunglasses bumps into you while you walk past the crowd at Lymington road, feeling the autumn chill in the air. The clouds part, and a great golden shower of sunlight pours onto the road. The young lady, who, you think is so improbably beautiful smiles apologetically and walks past. You smile back at the book and put a bookmark on that page, making a mental note that you’ll get back to it as soon as you finish dinner.

Novels, they transport us to another world, maybe another country, another city, another family, another background, another ethnicity, another religion, another personality. And soon enough we realize that we are seeing the world through another person’s eyes. Who is this other person?... Is it us? Or a transformed version of us? Well, that’s what it feels like..That person indeed becomes a part of us, so close that often it is difficult to say if he is us, or we are him. He is the character, the protagonist, in most cases, who has sunk into our subconsious and has become our companion, or an escort, to take us around his world, his life… his story. He takes through his story as we watch it like a movie in our mind, or, if it’s an extraordinarily great piece of writing, experience it vicariously, as if it were happening to us.

You get back to the book. It is an uptown restaurant in London. A few pages later, the culture of London has become like your own. Novels, they also inform a great deal about different societies, their cultures, their way of living. They do not directly inform, they reveal, in bits and pieces. The information just flows through beautifully with the rest of the novel like the mineral-rich sediments in a river. After a voyage of discovery and revelation when we get at the end of it, we realize that it’s become a part of us.

You put the book down and get back to your work. What a nice unwinding, refreshing break you’ve just had from your stressful unvarying routine of everyday life. Novels indeed provide an escapism from the humdrum necessities of reality. For many of us, they may create a world we want to live in; for many, they may show us the world we want to live in and make us feel far away from it, or they may just be an entertainment for some. But I believe they much more than just that. They are like a ship that takes us to distant lands, often it may get hijacked by pirates but that just adds to our vicarious adventures. They are like that most interesting friend of yours, whose stories you’re never tired of listening; only that they come to an end.
As Paul Sweeney once rightly asserted, “ You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little  as if you’ve lost a friend”.

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.

Till June 2010, I had lived all my life in Delhi. In June, I had to leave Delhi and come to Mumbai because of my father’s transfer. My friend circle, my awesome school, my studies, my complete life was disrupted. I didn’t want to come to Mumbai at all, but even more- I didn’t want to leave Delhi. I would miss all my friends, my school, my teachers, my basketball games… everything. I was going to leave behind so many things which were close to my heart. It was very hard for me to cope with this. But I had to. There was no other option. So, in June, we came to Mumbai. The city didn’t welcome me in the dreamiest way, to say the least - I got a very severe case of typhoid after a week of arriving in Mumbai. And I spent 2 weeks in hospital. So I was able to join school only in mid-July. Joining a new school more than a month late was not all romantic. I didn’t know anyone. And besides, the school was completely different from my previous school, the core difference being that it was a million times smaller. Claustrophobic.  It was really hard for me to adjust. On top of that, I was missing my friends, a lot. I felt imprisoned by the injustice of life.

But now, when I look back, I can honestly say, that coming to Mumbai is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. When I joined my new school in Mumbai, I had no friends and there were no distractions which allowed me to stay focused on my studies. Once I got highest grades on few tests, I got a lot of encouragement from my new friends, my teachers and my family. And it was all uphill from there. My grades improved drastically. In middle school, I had been an average student. Now, I became one of the toppers. It was not only academics where I began to excel. When I joined this school, I realized the plethora of opportunities that I had had back in Delhi, and I didn’t use them. Now, when the opportunities were less, I truly began to value them. I decided to fully utilize every opportunity on my way. I began participating in a lot of extracurricular activities. I began going on stage more often than I ever had in my life. This way, I gained a lot of self-confidence. Apart from all this, I discovered one of my true passions after I came to Mumbai- Writing. Life had changed a lot, but it had changed for the better.

If dad hadn’t got transferred, I would have never come to Mumbai, and all these wonderful things would not have happened to me. Of course, it was impossible to see the positive side when I was going to come here. But now, it is very clear that it all happened because I had better things in store for me.

It’s true; you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. As we grow older we become very result-oriented. For each and every thing that we do, if we start worrying whether the dots will connect or not, life would become very difficult. We have no control over the future. We can only control our present. Don’t live for the future, live in the moment and enjoy the journey. Listen to your heart and trust that the dots will somehow connect in the future. " You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards." ~ Steve Jobs

THOUGHTS ON THE NEW YEAR

 2011 just passed. 2012 just arrived. So much has changed in the past year in our lives. So much new change is going to happen. some of us have come away from our friends in the past year, only to find new ones. so much happened. so many memories. so many thoughts about the future. ...

 this is my new year gift to you- some inspirational thoughts on change.

Every New Year’s day is a very special occasion – a time to reflect on where we are, how has been our journey so far, where are we headed, where we will be in another 1 year, another 5 years, another 10 years. A time to take stock, a time to renew our existing commitments and make new ones.  A time to reflect on some of the most fundamental questions of life which get lost in the daily humdrum of life.  An opportunity to change our life or at least take steps towards it. 

It is not only about changing our lives. But also, about changing ourselves. Life changes us in more ways than we can imagine. Each day is a new test, a new challenge.

"Challenges are what make life interesting. Overcoming them is what makes life beautiful."

Every new day is another chance to change your life. Change is the only constant in life. the key is to develop the ability to ride the change rather than get overridden by it.

When you feel that you have reached the end and that you cannot go one step further, when life seems to be drained of all purpose; what a wonderful opportunity to start all over again, to turn over a new page. Each new day is a blank page in the diary of your life. The secret of success is in turning that diary into the best story you possibly can.” I wish you Happy New Year and diary full of best stories ever written in your life.

p.s.- HAPPY NEW YEAR AND KEEP READING :)

The end of a Magical Childhood

Alohomora!

 The door to the magical world of Harry Potter opened up for me when I was 8. I was tired of reading Secret Seven so my Dad got me a copy of Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone. I read through, and was immediately haunted by the magic of "the boy who lived". The craze for Harry Potter augmented, largely due to my wish to be like Harry. As a little boy, I used to craft up the world of magic in my own surroundings and be the boy I wished to be, live in the dream world of Hogwarts for a while.

 I remember daydreaming during Math class that I was practicing levitation, playing quidditch or even taking down 3 headed dogs. There are many crazy things I have done as a result of this obsession. Once, when I had gone to a railway station, I actually took the luggage and ran with the trolley and bumped into the wall, hoping there would be magical world out there, which would take me to Hogwarts. I  even remember how I used to take a broom and act as if I were flying on it. 

Though I knew I was a “muggle”,  I found many of the themes were analogous to my own life- dealing with strict teachers, friendships, relationships…

As I grew up a little, I began to draw inspiration from the books. Lily’s sacrifice for her son, Snape’s unconditional love, Harry’s courage, his faith, his perseverance and skill; these were things that touched me deeply and have stayed with me till now. So it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Harry potter, to some extent, has been responsible for shaping my personality in a decisive way. My wish to be like Harry made me inculcate his qualities into my own life. I didn’t just copy him by pretending to fly on brooms. I also tried to play his character in my own life. As children, we are very easily influenced by things, good or bad. As I look back, I can honestly say that Harry Potter has been the best influence of my childhood.

The world of Harry potter has captivated, enthralled and mesmerized my senses, like millions of others who’ve grown up with the boy wizard. There may not be that kind of magic in reality, but it has created a magic of its own across the length and breadth of the earth. With kids queuing from 5 in the morning just to get the books.  But now, it is “the end”. The end of a magical childhood. The end of a crazy obsession. The end of a daydream world. I feel really sad when I think about it. People try to comfort me by saying things like, “it’s not the end of the world”. It may not be the end of our world (I’ve heard that’s gonna happen in 2012) but it is the end of a world of spells and enchantments, of brooms and thestrals, of ghosts and elves, of wizards and witches, of death eaters and aurors, of silver-haired professors, of Harry, Ron and Hermoine. Harry potter isn’t just a series of books or movies; it’s an immortal tale of magic, good over evil, friendship, war and love. The chosen one may have died from the books and the movies but the boy who lived will live forever, in the hearts of the millions of Potter fans across the world. As he does in mine.  
-By Manan Hora, die hard Harry Potter fan

The Secret To Happiness

Many years ago, a certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful palace on top of a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived. Rather than finding a saintly man, this guy, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity; tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a tale covered with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before he could get the man’s attention.

The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.

“Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something” said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. “As you move around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill.”

The boy began climbing and descending the many staircases of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to room where the wise man was.

“Well,” asked the wise man, “did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?”

The boy was embarrassed and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

“Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,” said the wise man. “You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.”

Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related everything that he had seen.

“But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?” asked the wise man.

Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

“Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,” said the wise man. “The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon.”