"Do you read? Why?"

Quite recently some busy body asked why I read.

"Why I read? Read what?"

"Books".

I was in a fix. I have never asked myself this very important question.

"Because books are written" I retorted, before turning my back on the lady.

However the lady had asked a very pertinent question. Why do I read? Why do people read?

I have never thought of it from any perspective at all. I read almost instinctively, without much thought. Books, journals, newspapers, even paper packets recycled from old newspapers ( I undo these, smoothen out the creases, and read the scraps in the kitchen while cooking).

I have mulled over this question for some weeks. Cogitated and contemplated. Eventually I thought I read books because of an innate and deep rooted desire to open the cover and read the printed matter. Do I love to read? Yes, most certainly. As I see it, the love for books is something innate. You can never force anyone to fall in love ...... with anything. Most certainly never books.

One has to read, partake the flavour, let the charm soak in, bask in the borrowed glory....... and then be quite replete. That is what reading does to me. Leaves me in a warm and golden reflective mood. Introspective and pensive. Happy and joyful. Elated and saturated. Sorrowful, somtimes with remorse. So many moods, so many books, so many authors.

If I did not read, how would I live? How would I breathe? Would I be a inanimate object, therefore? How will I think, if I don't get to read? Terrifying thoughts !!!!!

How does one get to start reading? The simplest answer to that would be..."At school, of course".

I am not to sure about the school bit, though. I do not remember who taught me to read. At our old Keyatola house I remember Dad teaching me alphabets. I was less than 2 years old, because my sister was not born then. He taught me alphabets, sums and of all things Latin. In the mornings, when he read his newspaper, I would sit on the window sill and do my reading and writing. This much I remember very clearly.

Books were there in plenty all over the house, and I think I taught myself to read. Today children go through such elaborate and complicated methods of education. I was sent to School simply because my parents had work to do during the day, and I got in the way. All I was expected tp do in School was to behave and maintain a certain basic standard of discipline. Certainly me nor my classmates were ever expected to come up with an A grade report card end of the year. The sweet old nuns too thought nothing about poor grades. As a result School was a happy place, and marks never a consideration. Funnily enough nobody ever failed an examination, and I got 'double promotion' three times (Primarily because most class teachers found me a handful). Studies and excellance in studies was a 'by the way' situation. I certainly never worked too hard for my grades.

However, I did read. I read everything that I possibly could. I read in class, I read in the Library, I read at Prep time, I read under the blanket with a torch. I read on steps. I read sitting on a tree. My mother read out to me. In time, I read out to my sister. I read Bengali. I read English. I read Hindi. I read any language whose script I could identify.

Very peculiar question....... "Why do you read?"

Maybe be because it comes to me as easily and naturally as breathing. May be because I am otherwise jobless. Maybe because I simply enjoy reading. Perhaps it is a selfish thing to do, because I read only for my enjoyment. My personal pleasure. The other productive and constructive effects of reading is perhaps unintentional and secondary. Something like Sachin Tendulkars batting records...... personal gain? or national gain?

More or less all my reading I did on my own. My Ma read out to me when I was young. My Dad, when I was a little older ....... but he also read out Peter Drucker and Toynbee and such stuff to his 4 year old daughter. Very simple equation. He had to read his book. The child was happy enough to fall asleep on his lap with Toynbee in the background.

Thank heavens I was left to my own devises for the better part of my childhood. No alphabet books. No rhymes to mug up. No "C-V-C" system of spelling. (Please ask a school teacher about this CVC procedure. Even at this age I find it complicated). No phonetics. I was just left to pick up a book and read. I did too. I enjoyed it, and read more .... and more ....and more.

That is why I read, dear lady. I am glad you raised the question. Thank you.