Last week, I had to take 2 cross country flights to take for my company, without any company. So on a whim, I decided to carry "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati roy with me. You know, the book - that you don't have to turn or or off in the plane and does not exist tin the "approved electronics" list of the stewardess watchdogs.
Every time you read a good book, it is an encounter - in the mind, in the brain and also in the understanding of prose construction - especially if it is in a language that is not your primary one. The last time I read it because I had to - the novel had won a booker prize and was based in the state of Kerala where I am from. So the literary poser in me had to form an opinion on it. This time, I wanted to read it - eager to learn more about myself than the book. How had my perceptions changed about the story? How had my understanding of the workings of the world changed? This time around, I may sympathize with different characters . Just maybe, I would understand that people don't do bad things because they are evil. This time around, the author may convince me the underpinnings behind their actions.
So on both my flights, I hung around with Rahel and Estha. With Baby Kochamma and Velutha. With familiar sights and happenings in Kerala. Most importantly, with Arundhati Roy, who was telling me more about the story, the characters, and a little about herself through her words. And in re-reading the book, I glimpsed a little more into how I had changed as a person from the last time I read the book.
The author and her storytelling has changed how I look at things. At a plymouth car, at people who fight just because they have to seem like a rebel, at kids who are exploited of their innocence without them knowing it. Arundhati Roy doesn't even know it. And she never will. Such is the power of writing in the long form. May the world keep it alive for its own good and for the good of its people.
image courtesy : http://27gen.blogspot.com/2010/11/reading-101.html
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