Reading is an immense source of pleasure. It’s a highly involved activity. The words printed in black ink create a whole world in the mind of readers-a world containing humans and beasts, dead and living, wild and cultured, trees, landscapes, rivers, flowers and millions and millions of colors. The characters take real forms, we feel acquainted with them. Unconsciously, we start relating to them; we bless some and wish that they never encounter the slightest of misfortunes; others are abhorred and cursed, we wonder why people like them exist, doomed only for death of the most horrible kind.
Reading opens our mind. We begin to see the world in a new light. Every sentence adds to our understanding of the universe.
Books help us to see beyond the obvious. They pour out the knowledge that had been accumulated with great hardships over several generations of human existence. A book is essentially a journey. That journey may be over rough seas in stormy weather, into the unexplored mysteries of the universe, into the intricacies of human psychology, into the wonderful, colorful and bright world of fairies or nymphs, over the vast expanse of rubble in a destroyed city, into the agonies and conflicts of love, etc. It lifts the being to a higher level from where he can have a more complete view of the world around him.
Reading is not meant to keep one at peace. On the contrary, it teases us. Sometimes we weep at the fate of the displaced, the wretched or the victim. At certain other times we wonder at the inventions that revolutionized the way we live. At yet other times we wish to be as brave as Hercules or as adventurous as Gulliver. Our mind is incessantly drawing pictures, nursing desires, swinging between moods, while our eyes move over words.
It’s not for nothing that someone has said, “A pen is mightier than sword”. Words inspire, motivate, guide, enlighten as well as destroy, betray, hurt. Anyhow, a written word is true in at least its physical existence-its how someone chose to describe one’s point of view of the world. Since his physical existence and his feelings are a reality, the words too are. Books are meant to start a thought-process. Men have lived and died and have left behind a plethora of ideas, experiences and perceptions. It’s for us to choose.
