Kindle or Paperback?

“There is nothing like the smell of books, both old and new. If someone ever bottled the smell, I would be all over it.” – Tiffany King, Meant to Be (The Saving Angels, #1)

This is the era of the Kindle generation. With technology by your side, it’s now a common phenomenon to see that people resort to reading books in digital formats rather than buying a hardcover or a paperback. Fortunately, I am not one of them. Nor do I plan to be anytime soon.

For me, the actual pleasure of holding a book and feeling it’s essence while reading it will never be replaced by something flashing on a 6-inch screen. Although I consider myself a minimal tech geek, I find the idea of reading something without actually feeling it on your hands, very uncomfortable and unsettling.

There is an altogether different feeling when you go to a bookstore and gaze upon the rows of shelves hemmed with books, each carrying a different mystery, a different narrative, a different world. It has always been an ecstatic experience for me when I visit any bookstore, few of my friends would know how I suddenly become a child and just run around the shelves, admiring the covers and discovering different worlds inside them. The fresh musty smell seeping through the veins, is ever nostalgic to me. So magnificent. Being in a bookstore is undoubtedly one the best moments that I experience. It may sound weird but yes, I can simply spend hours inside a bookstore or library just by gazing at those shelves. Sometimes I feel to buy the whole damn bookstore. Only if that was possible. Sigh!

People who read physical copies of books would know the feeling when a new book comes to your hands for the first time. That smell of the pages, the crispy sounds they make as you touch and turn them, the texture you feel as you explore them slowly and delve into the printed ink, fading away into a totally different world, sometimes even losing track of time. Yes, that’s a different experience. Hard to explain but indeed one of life’s most exquisite experiences ever.

And now, people choose to turn away from that experience by buying a book online and reading it from a touch screen. The pleasure of holding and reading a book on a Sunday afternoon, sitting on the porch can never be felt while reading an eBook. Unless they somehow manage to put that characteristic odour in a kindle, which I believe isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

I hope it doesn’t happens at all.

Most of my peers get surprised when they get to know that I still buy books and they are like, “Dude, why don’t you buy ebooks?” Well, sometimes I end up telling them the essence of buying a physical copy but most of the time, I just smile and let that question pass by. After all, I am kind of old school regarding some aspects of life.

There is a new book en route to me which I ordered from Amazon a while back. And you cannot imagine how much excited I am to finally grasp it.
Do share your thoughts about which you normally prefer. Books or ebooks.

Till then, happy reading.

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Unable to Write

Lately, this has been happening way too often. And it is slowly starting to get frustrating. As the days are passing by,  without any kind of productive writing emerging from my head, I am getting paranoid. Honestly, I haven’t found ‘anything’ to write about in these last few weeks. Oh! The agony. Maybe this is the result of staying away from home. This might sound crazy but for me I feel that ideas and instances come to my mind more often when I am in my home. In my own room, by my table lamp, late at night drowned with the eerie silence. Occasionally, with my headphones to give me company. That is my zone. Yes, definitely crazy this is but it comes with it’s perks. And demerits like this of course. This whole scenario in which I am stuck right now.

A question arises here. Do writers need a reason to write everything? Or a subject? Or a simple fleeing thought? I myself am not sure how much contradicting the answer to this question will be. In my case,  imagination plays an important role in everything I try to write. Sometimes the things that you go through propel you to pick up the pen too. Looking at your surroundings and introspecting out of that creates thoughts as well. So considering everything, I do am obliged to believe that indeed a subject matter is necessary to write something. Again this might be contradicting to some. For I have also seen people creating ardent pieces of writing just out of pure imagination which results in making me all the more miserable. If only, I had such tremendous calibre. Well, miles to go before I sleep. Indeed.

I don’t know which part I am lacking right now. The imagination part or the ‘introspecting the surroundings’ part but nevertheless it is starting to get frustrating. Finally I have decided to share my fair share of this mental agony with everyone reading this blog. I guess this happens to most of us.

Picture: livingchords.com

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New year, is it?

So time flies by as usual and a new, shining, polished year steps in. I must say, time f l i e s. Or is it just our minds having the tendency to believe that “time flies” whenever something ends, whether it is a year or a beautiful evening with your loved ones. An interesting thought. Happens to almost every human being and all we are left is to say, “Sigh. That went away faster than expected. It feels like I just passed high school a few weeks ago.”

People always hope that with the beginning of something ‘new’ comes the idea of a ‘refresh and restart’ button to their lives. It comes free with the ‘new’ thing. Promising to workout more, drink less, read more, lament less, explore more, sleep less are some of the ideas that come to a person’s mind with the beginning of a new year. Popularly termed as ‘new year resolutions’. Lasting barely a day. Some stretch it too a week or a fortnight at the most. Another proof of the ever vague human mind. It’s inability to keep promises in any form. It’s always amusing to me when I see people accepting the fact that they learnt a lot from their mistakes this particular year, which they repeat again,  and confess again, the next year. This cycle goes on and on. Another example of our minds. Always vague.

Honestly speaking, ‘new’ years don’t appeal to me anymore. It’s just the passage of time for me. Sure, I do like to spend time with my family on new year’s eve. But I don’t believe that with the passage of a particular amount of time (in this case 365 days or  what we call a year) , I should suddenly become happy and party around, screaming my lungs out, drinking like shit and ultimately passing out. Not my zone. Not my idea of happiness. I don’t even fully get the idea of celebrating when a year ends. Logically speaking, you are just a step closer to your death. Party for that? Nah.

In my case, with the passing of time and years, I have met a lot of new people, explored a lot of new things, ate a lot of food, still thin though, visited various places, read a lot, typed a lot, slept a lot, savored some beautiful moments but still, each passing year is almost monotonous to me. My bad luck, I guess. I have seen the world changing. I have seen my city changing. I have seen the falling of leaves during autumns, the dew drops in winter, the scorching heat in summers, the lively leaves in spring. I have watched villages turn into towns, towns turn into cities, empty fields turning into construction sites, forests reduced to empty fields.
I have seen how lives change. I have seen how people change. I have seen how the masks fall off slowly. I have seen man become beast.

This past year has been rough on me. I have stumbled countless times, fell even hurt myself. I have also realized more than I could ever imagine. I have felt my mind expanding, exploring unexplored territories. Finding beauty in unexpected things, taking up interest in totally different fields of activity. Falling in love with words. Creating something from the fragments in my mind. Penning them whenever I could. Doing things I would have laughed about doing in the previous years (which includes writing this blog too). But, I have come to realize that, it’s okay. It’s okay to fall. I feel I am still on the ground, but I haven’t given up the idea of getting up again. If not today, then tomorrow. Life has been significantly unfair to me. Not going to deny that. Or lament about that either. But I am starting to accept the fact that not everything goes according to your plan. You make mistakes, you feel bad like shit, you feel tremendous pain and self loathing, you hurt your dear ones. But at the end of the day, it all goes away. Time heals if nothing else.

So, I don’t think you need to be happy with the oncoming of a new year. Be thankful instead. For all the beautiful moments. For all the achievements. For being loved and respected. I don’t know how this year is going to shape up. Honestly, I don’t even care. I believe, doing what you love and doing it right is all that matters. I absolutely have no wishes to make to the ‘new year god’ to fill my life with love, happiness, people, Netflix or anything else. Though, I am eagerly waiting for the next Mr.Robot season.

So here’s wishing you all a magnificent new year ahead. Thanks for reading this long post (if you did). Thanks for your time.

P.S Do leave your comments (if any)