Saturday, 28 November 2015


I don’t think I can ever be a writer. You know like the ones who can conjure a superb story - weave it to create layers, length and transport you to an altogether different world.
My first favorite writer was Enid Blyton. I love her; still do – for her writing, for the magic and for helping me create my love for books. My parents have read me many books before I could start reading on my own – for they are avid readers as well. They inculcated and nurtured the habit of reading, referring and interpretation.
My first impression of a book is a hard bound copy of ‘The Famous Five’. I have read it innumerable times - imagined and lived that part of the group where we solved the mysteries. I never liked dogs back then but I used to pretend that I love them – well, the Famous Five wasn’t complete without the dog!
I used to impatiently wait for the library class every week where we weren’t allowed to borrow more than one book! I was utterly delighted when my parents enrolled me to another library which was in the neighbourhood– where I could borrow 3 books at a time  - and it’s added bonus – I could go to the market on my own! ( Now that was a big thing for a 7 year old !!! )

I have read many authors – both of Indian and foreign origins. Some were able to create that magic, some weren’t. 

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