Books.. The wonderful elixir of love, life and everything that connects them.
Books.. The wonder potion that transports you to any place on Earth and beyond, in the time it may take you to blink. Just like that.
Books.. Those thin parchments containing the magic of all the worlds, known and unknown.
Books.. The stories of people and places and events that you may believe you know but never truly know.
Books.. Weaving and binding us all in essence, even though we have never met, maybe never will.
Today is World Book Day ladies and gentlemen. Truly our day. And although every day is Book Day for us Book Dragons, but let us acknowledge and appreciate these tiny portals of our souls even more today!
The synopsis seemed good,
the cover too looked nice,
you opened the book
and began a new life.
You found yourself a new home,
you met some new friends,
you continued reading,
hoping it would never end.
You flipped through the pages,
you read out loud the words
you felt their joy,
their pain and hurt.
The pages cut your fingers,
and the words cut your heart,
Felt as if the author had a knife,
and was tearing your soul apart.
You laughed with the characters,
with them, you cried,
you lived with them, too
And with them, you died.
I was a voracious reader ever since my school days. From the very formative years of learning, I was totally inclined towards English. Fast-forward a few decades, I have been lucky enough to spend the last three years as a full-time as well as a freelance writer. It is not always easy, but it is a fulfilling career in itself, that allows me to do what I love, write!
I have always preferred the company of books over people. It is not that I do not like people. Of course I do. It is just that when I am too much surrounded with people, even though it be my dearest and close ones; there is always a moment when I would rather prefer reading a book.
As a freelance writer, what I like the most is that you rarely entirely switch off. At least, I don’t! There’s always an article which is going on in the back of my mind, or an idea for a new pitch to write on or something that I have already written. In the beginning, it was just a hobby, writing one piece a month and then gradually in a week. But now, it is my routine, my lifestyle, a part of my being. Now, I write daily and I get that instant urge to start typing and pen down what ever is there in my head. Accidental freelancer because never had I ever thought of being a freelance writer. I just came across random clients and undertook the projects that were offered to me. Happy in my profession, happy being an accidental freelancer.
Sorry if you feel that this page is slowly turning out to become a rant page. It’s just those mind fuck-ups. Lately I have been thinking a lot about attachments. Do you realize how much you grow attached to a few things like books, people, places? Sometimes, somethings that you are most attached to, end up hurting you.
I always have been very possessive about my books, my people and the places I have been connected to. Some places are you go-to places, you go there when you have a bad day or a good day. Also, you don’t want others to know about that place, because then that place would no longer be yours. You would always want to keep that place a secret. Same is the case with my books. I never lent my books to anyone as I always felt it would disrupt the bond that I share with my book.
At times we stop going to a few places because they remind us of some bitter memories or because we found a better place to call ours. Attachment is also a similar phenomena. The less attached you are, the more peaceful you will be.
This novel revolves around the Ganguli family with the opening scene of a hospital in Massachusetts, where Ashima Ganguli is about to give birth to a baby. The husband Ashoke Ganguli names the baby Gogol in honor of the famous Ukranian author Nikolai Gogol. He had a deep relation with the name as he had been reading a short story collection by Gogol just before his accident, many years back.
The Ganguli couple names their son as Nikhil in school but he wanted to be called Gogol. But by the time he turned 14, he started hating his name. Before leaving for college, he changed his name to Nikhil Gogol Ganguli. He went to Yale for further studies and adopted the American culture.
While taking a train home for summers, the train was suddenly stopped as a man had jumped in front of the train and committed suicide. Ashoke becomes very concerned and he then tells him about the significance of his name. Gogol is troubled and starts regretting his decision of changing his name.
After graduating, he gets a job in NYC and moves in with a girl Maxine. Gogol introduces her to his parents. Shortly after the meeting, Ashoke dies of a heart attack in Ohio. Eventually, Gogol withdraws from Maxine and breaks up with her.
Ashima suggests him to meet Maushmi, one of his childhood friends, who has just broken up from her wedding. Gogol is reluctant but somehow agrees. They both are attracted to each other and get married. But Maushmi feels tied up and regrets her marriage. She has an extra marital relationship with Dimitri. When Gogol comes to know of it, he leaves her.
He finally comes to accept his name and picks up a collection of the Russian author’s stories that his father had gifted him many years back.
–Shades of Life