“Of course anyone who truly loves books buys more of them than he or she can hope to read in one fleeting lifetime. A good book, resting unopened in its slot on a shelf, full of majestic potentiality, is the most comforting sort of intellectual wallpaper.”
– David Quammen

Growing up, I have always been the creative one, playing with the paper and scissors. At the age of four, stitching clothes for my barbie doll, making origami birds and innumerable craft articles, greeting cards and make things be more beautiful than what I found. It was quite normal and acceptable at our home for me to handle a pair of sharp scissors, needle and thread at a very young age. My hobbies would always include something artsy. Life couldn’t have been any other way. I aspired to be a fashion designer, ever since I was four or five. All my family and relatives believed the same.

Every night, my grandmother would narrate stories from mythology to me. Even my father who would read books to me. Making funny noises to enact the characters in the books. I’d giggle and sleep would often elude me. Making me more active, and wanting him to read me yet another book. He’d read random pages half asleep, and the story would take a different level of humour. With time, my father got busy with work, and the reading ritual became a rarity. I hate to think of that day, which would’ve been the last day he read to the little me.

Years passed by, and I never really identified myself as a book person. The nerdy types bookworm. Though my closest friends have always been voracious readers of classics. I’d often borrow a book or two from them to read, but it never really grew on me, the way they read. I’d rather have them narrate the story to me. I was learning to play tennis around that time. And would eagerly take lessons for the same. The active life was getting on me, and I realised I loved being sporty and instead of playing team games in school, tennis was different ballgame as compared to being an artist. My best friend was a swimmer and we would dream of career in sports. I wanted to be an international level tennis player when I grew up.

My best friend and me had our first ever business idea of making and selling bookmarks. They seemed perfect. Her being the reader, and me enjoying making booksmarks, we’d spend hours making a bunch of bookmarks and asking family and friends to buy them. At the age of ten, it surely felt like the most novel idea to have money of our own, by putting in efforts to make it happen. If anyone would ask me, I started liking books, for they held the beloved bookmarks I made. I wanted to continue creating bookmarks when I grew up.

“If we encounter a man of rare intellect, we should ask him what books he reads.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Stealthily, books started finding their place on our bookshelf. My parents being readers themselves, we already had ample of novels at home. Especially in Marathi language. I can’t exactly remember which one was the first book from the category of self-help, or self-improvement book that stepped in, but our house was discovering gems after gems. I was yet to be a teenager, and books about brain and Mind Maps by Tony Buzan fancied me. They made my lessons far more interesting and I thought that was a good way to learn, rather than mindlessly mugging up notes. This was when I started developing a little more interest in learning new ideas to help improve my understanding and grasping of ideas around me. I had just stepped into teenage, and the adolescent changes made me grow all the more closer to the self-help books. One of my early favourite was You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise L Hay. I wanted to meet her when I grew up.

These authors started becoming my friends, and I found a comforting space rightfully mine, while there was too much of outward chaos ongoing around me in real life. These books gave me immense hope. Dr. Deepak Chopra was another person I looked up to. I remember Rich Dad Poor Dad being on the shelf, by Robert Kiyosaki, Jack Canfield, Brian Tracy. My father bought me a teenage edition of it for me. I have a feeling it all started with Tony Robbins and my father attending a remote workshop of his. I’m sure I already must be missing out on so many other amazing people, who instantly became my heroes. In the year 2004, there was a movie by the name What The [Bleep] Do We Know? Which introduced another set of amazing people, who had achieved insane level of magnificence in their daily lives, by mere power of their thoughts. Add to the list Dr. Joe Dispenza, Dr. Masaru Emoto, Esther and Jerry Hicks, Dr. Wayne Dyer, Candace Pert, Bob Proctor and many many more were my teenage heroes. I wanted to meet them all when I grew up.

In the year 2006, The Secret movie by Rhonda Byrne was released, and suddenly I started finding many other talk about (read, brag about) their understanding of the Law of Attraction. It was then, I could feel a little more comfortable in accepting the kind of books I have been secretly burrowing into my books. Even though I rarely discussed the stuff I ever read, I had already started seeing the world in an altogether different light. My father kept introducing new books into our home. The Secret felt like a huge breakthrough, even though people hardly discussed openly about these mystical concepts. Metaphysical sciences and Quantum physics was too much to handle for other teenagers around me. I have always been a misfit amongst my peers, and my reading choices made it much worse (or for better). I was the last person to know about the latest gossip going on in our college, while I’d know of some latest research in the USA which talked of mind-body connections. Effect of emotions on the body and so on. I had given up on painkillers that year. This time, I started wanting to be one of these writers when I grew up.

“Employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings so that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for.”
– Socrates

Fast forward insanely crazy phase in my life, when these books continued to keep me sane. A part of my room was covered with a vision board and I loved applying simple things in my life, as much as my brain would assimilate. My secret world of wonder and immense joy, continues to be so, even after almost two decades. I have almost grown up with these people, and many more joined on the way. Anita Moorjani, Dr. Bruce Lipton, Joe Vitale to name a few. I enjoy reading and rereading books. The Alchemist tops the list, and The Forty Rules of Love comes somewhere next. Both being mystical novels, make for a perfect read on a rainy day, with a tall mug of tea. I always look for books that I’d love to read second or third time. Otherwise, I’d not even want to read them once. Maybe I want to be a reading snob when I grow up!

Fast forward to recent times, These names are common topics of discussions. Every time I meet some incredible personality, I never hesitate to ask them what books they read. Or whenever I visit anyone’s house, my eyes are always looking for the books in that house, for they tell us much more than a person than the people themselves. Even if the books are still lying on the shelf, one day they shall be picked up with love, and devoured with joy.

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
– Jane Austen