Simple tales
I have been reading a good book these days. Books can be a great way to escape the turbulences of your mind ; and for that particular reason I now read books that tell simple stories of people and their lives. For a bit of thrill and adventure I would prefer a movie.
The book, I am reading, is a compilation of short stories by Indian authors and these stories range from happenings in a curd seller woman’s life in South India, a man struggling with his guilt on his identity, a boy in Maharashtra whose happiness knows no bounds because of the simple pleasure of being gifted a one rupee silver coin by his father and his innocent admission of struggling to find out what he can do with it. Stories like these remind me of all the simple tales one grows up with and which are only to be forgotten completely as life moves on. Sometimes , I feel ,I just refuse to grow up. I smile at myself when I still remember stories of a little boy Zanzibar and his dog set in the Himalayas, the bedtime stories of Tom Thumb and many such fascinating ones I had read as a chid. The beautiful illustrations and pictures are still vivid in my memory.
Even today when I browse through a bookstore, I cannot help but pick up an Amar Chitra Katha or a Tinkle or a comic on Akbar Birbal tales. The simplicity of the characters in them and the stories themselves stay with you and make you smile. Its really dissapointing to see that the wit of Birbal or Tenali Rama , the innocence in most of these stories and their simplicity do not hold the attention of the children today.
For me good book is something very rare, sacred and intimate..
theblahstory said this on May 31, 2008 at 9:41 am