Here's to the Writers

Lately, the only thing that has kept me ticking is my rediscovered passion for reading.

I make a rather slow reader and quite an inconsistent one to add to the misery, but I can get as animated, as downcast, as appreciative and as critical of a book as my other serious counterparts. Books have impacted my life more than the events and I take a certain amount of pride in this fact. I also take full cognizance of the fact that more than the books, Its a set of writers whom I am offering this most preserved right over the principles of my life. I am ripping open my cerebrum before a person and allowing him to play with it. I am consciously opening it to the extent that future course of my life would depend on it. I am willingly putting my Right to Independent thinking up for grabs and it only makes me happier when somebody actually grabs it.

I have welcomed Rands and Orwells with Open arms, spent the lonely moon-staring nights with Ghalibs and Gulzars and after leaving many poorly paved roads half-walked, 've recently finished measuring the lanes of Maximum city Mumbai with Suketu Mehta. A good book can make me recognize a multitude of emotions I never knew existed. It can really exhort me sometimes.

Want to end this on a better note but in the absence of thoughts I will be content with just this one...Here's to the writers. :-)