Why Do I Read?

Yesterday my sister, who was trying to implement some psycho funda on me, asked me this question and I was zapped. It is almost like asking, why do you breathe? But then I thought long and hard and here it is:

I think I initially started reading to gain my father’s approval. He believes that reading is the best hobby one can inculcate. He feels that it helps in forming one's world view and goes a long way in developing one's opinion. I read books like David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, Enid Blyton series much before my peers woke up to them. And many a times I would complete a book just to earn his approval and respect. He would be extremely proud of me if I had finished reading a particularly heavy book. But it would not stop there. Most of the time the book would be extensively discussed and analyzed.

Though I initially started reading because of my father, over a period of time I started enjoying it. What is it I like about reading is a difficult question…in fact, a very difficult question. While earlier I used to enjoy just fiction now most of the books I read are non-fiction or fiction rooted in reality. Maybe I liked fiction because I wanted to run away from reality…it was entertaining.  Though I must add here that there was nothing in my reality that I would have wanted to run away from. But I was an extremely shy kid and running away from my wall paper existence might have been appealing.

I can still think of some other reasons I read. Once I fought with everyone to opt for graduation in English literature, I had no option but to read till I could read no more. But it was still not a compulsion, except poetry, which was usually done under duress. Later on with the kind of job I do, it was part of the job to read as much as I could. Even so I continued with reading fiction and books which had no bearing with my job. During the day I would read about the companies or the industry I was covering and at night I would read whatever appealed to me at that particular point of time.

Over the years my reading has changed dramatically. It also reflects my growing old in some ways. My earliest memory is of reading a yellow hard bound book of a very naughty boy called Dennis. Then a relative visited us and got some books from National Books Trust, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Then Enid Blyton was a big favorite, especially the Famous Five. During this time I also read many classics like David Copperfield, Gulliver’s Travels, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, Oliver Twist and so on and so forth. Soon I graduated to Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys, which were regularly borrowed from the school library. Post this was a very avoidable Mills and Boons and Barbara Cartland phase.

Real transformation happened during the college years when I read almost anything and everything I could lay my hands on. It was an amazing period when I read books like Anna Karenina to Doctor Zhivago to Roots by Alex Haley to recently published books like Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things to I am proud to say, James Hadley Chase. I recall getting so tired of reading serious literature and books that I would need to take a break and read something like Robin Cook or John Grisham. Many a times I would be reading three-to-four books at the same time. During this period I was a very regular member of British Council Library on Kasturba Gandhi Marg and visited it on a weekly basis.

My reading came down dramatically during my Masters. I think I just got totally cheesed off for some reason. More over the pressure of finding a vocation was immense. It took me a year or so to resume my reading habit. In hind sight I think I would have done much more freelancing if I wasn’t reading as much during my freelancing years. Now for some reason I do not feel like reading too much of fiction. I like books which are rooted in reality. But I am unable to develop a taste for Indian authors though I have read some of them.

Suffice to say that I cannot imagine my life without reading. It is as basic to me as eating.