Last month a lot of people
on Facebook shared their favourite books. As per the rule, one was supposed to
share the names of only 10 books, but you know how it can be with books.
Narrowing down the number of just 10 can be really really tricky. So, when I
was tagged by a friend to share my list, the torture of choosing just 10 got
the better of me and I did the next best thing. I didn’t participate in this
tag game. Like always there was a bunch of sourpusses who dissed the
whole thing, saying that people Googled the best book and listed them out.
Whatever the case was, it was good to see people talking about books for once
instead of some other random event or human being who don’t affect our lives
even minutely.
Anyway, I started making a
list before I gave up. The whole exercise was excruciating in a way as I was
juggling the list of favourite books in my mind. Some names got replaced every
time I made a list but one book retained its place each and every single time,
remaining the first name on the list. And it was the very first novel I had
read. "Dr Strange Case
of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde". I still remember
the day when it came into my life. 21st April. It was my birthday. I lived in a
small town, in a close-knit community. Before going to a birthday party,
everybody discussed which presents to take for the birthday girl/boy so that
there were no repeated gifts. How thoughtful right! Even the store owner knew
which gift was taken by whom. I guess it was my 9th birthday.
Like any other 9 year old girl I was expecting some exciting gifts. Something
no one ever gave me before. And that wish came true when this one guy gave
decided to give me a novel because ‘all other gifts were taken’. I remember
being extremely disappointed and angry at him. I mean how could he give me
something that kept me confined to one spot and I actually had to make an
effort to read! I did that in school..why would I want to do at home. Don’t get
me wrong, I liked reading but I was more into comics and short stories rather
than a full fledged novel. Nevertheless, I was angry and I shoved the book into
some corner of my bookshelf. It saw the day of light when one unforgiving
summer afternoon forced all us to stay indoors. After all, it was the only way
you could survive. (Seriously, the heat could have easily melt or evaporate
anyone. Well at least the 9 year old me thought so). I decided to look for a
comic to re-read when I saw this novel. I saw it a lot of times whenever I
spent some time with my bookshelf and I never paid attention to it. But this
time, it almost seemed like it was screaming at me to pick it up. I was sceptical but
I did pick it up. I thought, if I had to be confined to one place and
read, I might as well read something new. What’s the worst that could happen? I
would lose a few hours of my life. Not that I was bothered about this issue
back then. I turned the first page. Then the next one. And another. Another.
And I got up after the last page was turned. Between a few hundred pages that lay
between the first and last one, I found a new world. A world which I refused to
leave since.
That birthday I was given
the greatest gift. It gave me the ability to step into different worlds that
were fantastical, scary, happy and sad, all at once. I could step into
different dimensions, slip into the shoes of a million characters and feel a
multitude of emotions. All sitting in the same place! And I thought books
confined you to just one place! Heights of naivety I’d say. I guess that moment
when I felt this power of transporting to new, imaginary yet such believable
worlds was the most exciting moment in the 9 years of my life. It was almost
surreal. I remember that story so well, even after 17 years of reading it. I
was just blown away by how story-telling can be so damn absorbing. I was in
awe. I fell in love that day. I fell in love with a book. I fell in love with
reading. I fell in love with the art of story-telling. Today, it is such a big
part of my life. Rather, it found a way to weave my life around it.
They say that the first of
anything is special and this was my first novel ever. No book can ever take
away its importance and its significance. Since that day, I believed that every
book enters your life when it is supposed to. So, the next time people judge
you if you haven't read some particular classic or if you cannot pick up a book
that’s being lying around your home around since ages, it’s OK. The
time is not right. Maybe you won’t get the story or relate to it or find
it unexciting. Wait for the right and the book will become a big part of your
life. Permanently. You will know when to start reading it. If you love books
the way I do, they communicate with you in their own way and you will
understand them. You will know when to pick up a certain book. Maybe if I read
the novel as soon as I got, I wouldn't it have enjoyed. Maybe it wouldn't have
changed my life. Or maybe it would have. But I know one thing for sure. I
picked it up when it wanted me to and it showed me a way. Even though it came
in my life in April, it wasn’t until June that I started reading. And till this
day, that June has been a life-changing month for me. Is this my favourite
novel of all times? Probably not. Is this the one that changed my life? Hell
yes.
So, thank you, Robert Louis
Stevenson for writing it. Thank you A, Mr. and Mrs T. for picking it up and
thank god for finishing off all the ‘good gifts’. Otherwise they couldn't have
gifted me the novel. A, I’m sure you don’t remember this birthday because it
was eons ago and I'm pretty sure you don't even remember me. But wherever you
are, know that you gifted me a lifetime of joy that accompanies reading. If
someone ever asks me again, which was the one book that changed my life, I know
my answer. It was the very first novel I read, the one that started it all.
