Reading was like second nature to me. My earliest memory of a happy time is when I read my first book. Opening a comic book by the candlelight to while away time during those infamous Bangalore power cuts in the early 90s, still brings a warm feeling to my heart. My dad then introduced me to big room full of books – the library. And that became a tradition. With every house we moved or new location we shifted to, my dad and I had this little outing where the first thing we’d figure out was the location of the neighbourhood library. And I’d come back home happy with the library card in my name. My gate pass to the only version of heaven I believe existed. The world of books.
To date nothing beats the thrill I feel when I enter a library. Rows and rows of books with worlds within. So many voices to be heard, so many thoughts to be understood, so many perspectives to be seen. Teleportation was a real concept to me and not just a Star Wars theory. Those books did just that to me. When I curled up with my book, I was in there. In that world. In that time. At that very instant. Teleported. The scent of an unopened book, the touch of rows of works that are waiting to be read, sigh, I am going there again.
But here I am, a busy adult as I once wished to be, and yet not happy. Not entirely atleast.
And I realised, of all the sacrifices that I made to get here and the habits I chose to discard, books took a backseat. Reading now has been reduced to browsing through the new snippets on aggregator apps or articles that follow and of course, tons and tons of mails.
I want to read again. Really read. Get lost in a book, in the world the author has woven, be one of those characters, live that life. Live a hundred lives and more in one lifetime.
A hundred lives. A hundred books.
Why not… How will I make time for this? Then again, if not now, then when?
And that’s precisely how the idea for this blog came up. A little space where I put down my thoughts on the 100 lives I am going to live from now on. One week at a time. A promise that I am making to myself and putting out there so that 100 weeks from now, I wouldn’t have to say to myself, ‘what have I been doing all this while?’
The name bit was quite a challenge but a dear friend helped me out in the knick of time. Like she said, “you are afterall going to be book-ed for a 100 weeks from now on, aren’t you”
Welcome to my journey as I live these 100 lives in the next 100 weeks. Some that I have yet to experience and some others that I am excited to re-live. One book at a time.
Do come along.
Photos: Remya Nair
Booked for 100 