It has been days for me turning that page. I put the full stop on our relationship. You know how difficult it is to move on and start a new life. When there is no further page to turn, you have to accept the end. We had such a good time together. But alas, the journey has its destination. Wait, wasn’t I aware of this destination since the beginning? Ever since I took that first step with her, back of the mind I was always staging for the moment when we reach the end of this road.
Isn’t it obvious for a book? If you open the cover and dived in the amazing world created by an author, there is always “the end” written on the last page of the book. Have you ever felt that you are in the same world with those characters? Witnessing those scenes written on pages in your hand, hearing voices of characters speaking dialogues scripted for them? There are a few books which have taken me in their world. And I must say, they are magnificent. Valentia created by Rajamayyoor Sharma is on top of my head as far as Indian fiction is concerned while James Clavel has taken me to medieval Japan. I have roamed in London with Sherlock and Poirot.
However, the journey in those realms, started from the cover page, has its end marked. The author takes the characters by hand and takes them to their destination by the end of the book. They fulfill their destiny. If a writer chooses to give happy moments at the end, we enjoy them. If it’s a tragedy, characters at least get closure at the end. But hey dude, you forgot to write something for me? What about my destiny at the end? What about my share of the closure? Haven’t you thought about me as an uninvited traveler of this journey when you wrote a book?
This is my condition when I turn that last page of every fascinating book. I need more time to come out of the world between those covers. I know it’s crazy to some other level, but hey my fellow bibliophiles, aren’t we all crazy in the same way? Just like some love yearning person, I fell for a new world. I get pulled to the bookshelf. Aroma of those printed pages always fascinates me. It entices me to pick up a new book and start anew.






It has been more than two years since I finished reading “
Knowing something about Egypt, a country which is far away and boasts one of the ancient civilizations of this world was always on my mind. Recently, I found an anthology of essays written by an Egyptian author of a best seller, ‘Cairo trilogy’ and a Nobel laureate, Naguib Mahfouz. This Anthology, “The meaning of civilization” comprises essays on culture, religion and politics.
I am reading this very interesting book by an Austrelian – Kashmiri food writer turned author, Sarina kamini – “Spirits in a Spice Jar”. It is her memoir of a journey of rediscovering her roots. It says for Sarina’s Kashmiri family, food is love, love is faith, and faith is family. I reached the point in a book where Sarina is readying herself to once again accept who she is, where her roots are. And she says,