There was a time I planned, made a list and bought books.
There was a time a sizeable chunk of my salary was dedicated to music cassettes and books. Books, more than cassettes.
There was a time there would be a book in the queue waiting for the first to be read.
There was a time I would put the child to bed early so that I can pull out that book from the bedside and read till my eyes close. The last time I did that was when I sat till 2AM to finish Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. That was probably the last time as well.
Now? I just can’t hold a book long enough to consume its contents. Oh, I do get my amount of spare time. There is no way I can complain of ‘lack of time’. In the last couple of years, I bought two books: Chasing the Monsoon in Winter 2009, and The Catcher in the Rye in Summer 2010. I did not get past 3-4 pages of the first and about one-third of the second. They remained at my bedside for weeks, then next to my computer for another few more. Then, I sidelined them to the book-shelf where they still await my touch.
It’s alarming. I just can’t hold myself down enough to finish a book. There is this pull, call it Gravity if you will, that draws me away. I know it’s all about priorities – if I really want to read, I know I can. But these things that need to be done, the things that suffocate me, they are always on the top of the list.
I miss books. Gawd, I miss reading.