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Posted by : Prahaas Oldman Friday, 6 December 2013

I did better rush this post. This is not me pouring my philosophy at your disposal, rather, it's me just sharing my most superficial thoughts in the most crude manner possible. This year I wrote less, read more. The smell of books constantly filled up my nostrils this year, and I did try to absorb every word, with all of my heart, believing that the process I was indulging myself in, was a part, a major part of my education.
I was an avid reader in my adolescence, but since I have hit adulthood, I feel like, as if I am more confused than a regular teenager. This confusion strikes me at the moment, in the form of depression and suicidal thoughts, but films, books, photographs and various other forms of art, act as an antidote to the undefined form of poison that exists within my mind.
"Mind i believe is the intersection of the perceptions of the brain and heart of an individual".
The winters early this year, portrayed me as a naive man, fueled by desires to accomplish tasks that I often dreamed of, yet their executions seemed futile at the moment. It was not because my lazy persona was in vogue, but it was because, though sometimes we just feel like putting our dreams on the track of accomplishment, but rather we are waiting for a perfect time, a perfect place, accompanied by perfect people, in order to execute the visions of our dreams.
That is when we temporarily give up on the practical phenomenons.
That is when I put my pen on hold.
That is when I decided to read. A lot.
When I was young, very, very young indeed, I had literally drowned myself in the works of Enid Blyton. The funny part was that, although I was a fan, plus an avid reader, I believed that 'Enid' was a man. When I realized, how wrong I was, I had already read a lot many of her works. They were splendid. Especially 'Six Cousins At Mistletoe Farm'. It was my favorite Blyton novel. My father was literally as well as practically a jerk. I believe his sole purpose was to torture us by creating a havoc in our life, finding ways trying to get the worst out of us and then blaming us. He was not an easy man to win from. There was once a phase and that very phase accounted for the whole of the last two years that we spent with him. In that phase, he devised a plan to torture us by strangling our stomach. The objectives of the plan were that either don't provide the family with food to eat, or give them the same food, three times a day, for throughout the year, until everyone gets literally fed up of the meals and give up on eating. Trust me, sometimes hunger is way better than eating something over and over again, like forever. But the harsh truth is that, in order to survive, you have too feed yourself, and so we did. So, when I was devouring on my lunch and dinner, like an unlucky animal, eating to survive, I used to keep open 'Six Cousins....' in front of me. In the novel, the characters used to have ham, cheese, fresh milk, sandwiches and what not, and that used to provide a flavor to the boring food that I was eating. Trust me, it was as magical as it can get.
I never got over Enid Blyton, but during the course of my literally journey, I encountered authors such as Sidney Sheldon, Robin Cook, Dan Brown etc. I, personally, am a big fan of Mr. Sheldon. He, no doubt, is one of the best writers whom I encountered. Robin Cook sucked, no offence, I really didn't like him, nor his medical thrillers, or say, suckers.
Dan Brown's first novel upon which I laid my hands was 'The Da Vinci Code'. I bought the copy of the novel in order to piss my sister, because according to my sister, the book was offensive and controversial. If she hated it that much, I just had to buy it. But it turned out something more than a 'pissing' attempt. The very moment I started reading the book, I was hooked. I began reading it at ten in the morning and finished it by midnight. I had never ever read a more intriguing book than it. Never. It was a masterpiece.
Then suddenly, I started noticing girls and gave up on reading. Chasing skirts seemed to be a very productive task then. The worst part is that I had this urge to marry and have a lot of babies with the girl on whom I had a crush. A lot many times I was turned down, yet I always managed to have my moments. I remember this one time when the girl on the other side agreed to my proposal. What a night it was. I slept peacefully and dreamt of a rainfall of babies. The next morning I was busy with my tasks (writing, watching films etc), I got free by the evening and that was the time when I laid my hands on my cell phone, for the very first time, during that day. I am not a very tech-savvy person. I really don't give a damn about technology, whether it arrives on my doorstep in the form of a costly cell phone or a turbo- charged car, I really don't give a fuck. I believe that stuff is for boys, we are men now, we should behave in a mature manner. Although, ofcourse we don't. So, when I checked my cell, I witnessed like twenty unread messages from that girls, all asking about my whereabouts. Within twenty four hours, I called off that relationship. Being single is the best feeling ever, I shall never ever give any person, any chance to hurt me in any manner what so ever.
After Sheldon and Dan Brown, I came across J.K Rowling. Up till then, I had never ever liked her creation, 'Harry Potter'. During that time phase, I was so depressed, that I borrowed a copy of the novel from my cousin and began to read. I was in my mid-teens, yet I loved it. I just loved it. It grasped me in ways I had never ever thought of and soon I had read all the book of the series and watched all the films too. I secretly read and watch 'Potter' to this day too.
Then arrived the reading hiatus that continued to the beginning of this year. I indulged myself in the act of writing, but had, had not read anything for quite some time. Winters were at their peak, and life was not so good. To cheer me up, my friend advised me to buy a particular book. He hoped that, that very book, shall erode my negativity to quite an extent, sparking up quite some positvity. In a way, he was right.
The Secret by Rhonda Byrne is not a novel. It not a book either. I did prefer to term it as encouragement. It boasts of a lot of issues that can be dealt in the right manner with a positive approach. I read it, in a way savored it, even brought the advice of the author in practice. Trust me, it helps. I loved the book, and I prefer to read it from time to time, trying to get myself in a stable form, recommending it to everyone around, who give me looks, as if, I had advised them to consult a psychiatrist.
The next book that I got myself was 'Tales From Shakespeare' by Charles & Mary Lamb. I had read that book in my early childhood, enveloped by darkness. The sole reason that I was able to read it was that it is in simple language, not in drama form, but rather in the form of short stories. I bought it because I wanted to adapt some play of Shakespeare in the form of a screenplay for a short and for that I just required the plot. I never finished the task I entitled myself with, but this cheap book is surely a catch.
Sidney Sheldon's autobiography 'The Other Side Of Me' is definitely a must read. It's action packed as his novels, full of thrills and chills, and the best part is that it's a real life story. It's the story of his life. The part that struck me with great positive attitude was that how hard working was a man named Sidney Sheldon. Hard working enough that he ended up winning the Academy Award For The Best Original Screenplay. It's one of the favorite books of mine, inspiring and alluring at the same time.
During my summer break, I read, 'Guru Dutt' by Nasreen Munnni Kabir. It was a biography. The life of Guru Dutt, no doubt, was mesmerizing, but his life, witnessed from other person's words, gives one the impression of coming across information on Wikipedia. Although I favor the book, yet I despise biographies. They are superficial and soulless.
Charles & Mary Lamb's version of Shakespeare's place was just not enough for me. I wanted to make the real deal with the works of the great playwright. Thus, I ended up laying my hands upon the 'Complete Dramatic Works Of Shakespeare'. Tough baby, this fat book, the language is alien, yet if you have the zeal, you can get through it. When I am in the mood, I read a play, feel happy, when I am not, I feed the book the darkness of my store room.
Dan Brown's Inferno is a piece of shit. Yes, you read correct. I was a huge fan of 'The Da Vinci Code', but 'Inferno', though interesting, though an intriguing chase, is written on the blueprint of 'The Da Vinci Code'. It's just like reading the latter, with characters of different name becoming the part of action in a different setting. I am not saying that it's not readable, it very much is, but the acute resemblance of it to the very first book in the 'Robert Langdon' series, just pisses you off. Especially if you considered yourself to be a fan.
'The Holy Innocents' by Gilbert Adair is a masterpiece in its own terms. Its provocative and erotic, yet powerful and sensual. The chemistry of the character is taboo and carefully woven, plus the description of Paris is elaborate enough to fall in love with the city and the culture. Once again. The novel is not meant for anyone, but with a open creative artistic mind, one might tend to savor it and the story of the lives of the people it holds.
These were the books that I have already read. I am halfway through reading 'A Streetcar Named Desire' and Marlon Brando's autobiography 'Songs My Mother Taught Me'. I love the former for I have watched the film - A Masterpiece. As of the latter, I shall say that we know very less of Brando as a person and his autobiography just touches the heart. Or say, as of yet, it touches the heart.
That is it for now. Read, write, love. In any order what so ever.
Amen.

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