My journey of reading

Hi guys!

How many of us feel drowsy at the sight of a very historic 725-page novel [or more than that!]
The habit of reading is contagious. Once you get the taste of it, it would be absolutely impossible to control! Okay, let me share my own experience.

This journey started with a disinclined toddler (me) and an enthusiastic,supportive mother (my mom). I felt lazy to read a book. My mom tried to persuade me into doing so. At first, it felt like a punishment. My mom used to bribe me those days by rewarding a candy for every two hours of reading. I started with Bubbles and Pepper series at the age of four. So I first started with such books. Soon, I was addicted to it.

I also realized my language skills had improved a lot and my vocabulary had widened. I found it much more easier to communicate with people and I was much more fluent than I was before.

A scientific study also said that reading trains your brain. It strengthens the areas that are responsible for cognitive skills, intelligence and memory.

I would recommend you to start with short stories [maybe consisting of 40-50 pages]. One has to find his/her stream of interest and you will start to enjoy it!!

Bon voyage! Good luck!😊😊

Comments

Reminiscing

(Photo by Nong Vang on Unsplash ) It was a still, quiet night. The air seemed untouched by the maddening chaos in my mind. I glanced at the night sky, and spotted a star glimmering in the distance. The unusually gripping sight brushed me back to a fragment of my past, a chapter sealed long before. A whiff of my past my naive self still lived in. A life I had long left. I used to enjoy observing the tiny flickers of light, while my heart filled with hope for tomorrow. They looked like little flames whose glowing tips waltzed in the gentle evening wind. Those quiet, fulfilling moments spent squinting at tiny specks of light, while savouring the crisp air with traces of floral detergent from the clothesline, were one of a kind. Something no productivity chart would ever be able to explain. It was something I was not yet accustomed to; living a new life with new people, making new memories. Those little joys and fears that would excite my younger self. It's moments like these, moments...

My Quiet Hours Doodling

(Doodle by author) Those strokes hold some power over my soul. Every stroke of black ink on the paper carries my flow of zen. I feel my zen flowing through the bold lines of ink, as it seeps into the thin paper and leaves an imprint on the next page, like a faint footprint of time on a page left unwritten, a sliver of the blank pages of the future. I feel my throbbing anger, roaming curiosity and emotion trapped within drain from my veins and flow out like ink. It calms the raging storm within, liberates the compressed frustration, when emotion and doubt cloud my sight, when I cannot quite find answers to questions within. I let it take form. I let my mind and soul wander on paper, and they imprint traces of great wars fought in turmoil. I let the strokes clash into one another; some overshadow others, some lie far apart. Yet, the raw self cannot bear rules. I let the imperfections rule the paper, and that is what makes me raw, real and human. In the end, the wild strokes embrace and I...

A Letter to Thatha

The little specks of pearl in the sky Glowing and fuming, With the vapours of our memories. In my swollen, glistening eyes, I saw the flare of your pyre in the stars, Like a spangle caught in my tears, The light of our love stretches its arms. I never knew a pain greater, When my fingertips caressed your cold, grey folds of skin I never knew I could feel so broken inside, With scalding memories and a heart wanting justice. With last words untold, goodbyes unsaid. I never thought the day would come, When I came home to your warm smile and open arms, But would instead be greeted by your empty chair. I never thought I would shudder and hide at your sight, Until you lay in the icy coffin like a child, Oblivious to our cries and wails. I never knew I would so badly yearn, To hear you call me one more time. I watched you become a child again. I never minded your faltering memory, Your greying eyes that often stared out in the open, I was content, With your pupils carrying a ...

fledgling

Search This Blog