It was the school library, and I was eleven, with no sense of what books were. My world was all about dolls, cars, ninjas, hide and seek, blind man's buff and cricket with the boys. But here was a place which was something my eyes were not accustomed to. And here was my school-time best friend telling me that she was signing up to a room full of books for the span of 6th grade. I decided to join too, just for the sake of spending lunch hour with her, which formed all of my school life then.
It happened then. With my first book and then I din't know why my math grades sunk or why I was on the verge of flunking 8th grade, but it was stories and stories and only stories. The books kept coming and it never stopped. That room of books became home, my lunch hour was now only reserved for that room and a new book each day. My best friend became a secondary source of pride, the first being my new home filled with all those books which I still wanted to hangout with.
I am 22 now, and each year with every new experience, my books remain the pillars of my life. I've built worlds, cities, parks, amusement parks in them, around them, with them. I carry them in my heart, their words in my soul, constantly seeking them in whatever state I am in. My bestfriend asked me today evening, " If you had to choose between books and love, which one would you choose? " I blanked out for two seconds, and said, " I don't know, I really don't know. " But the fact was that my answer would have been totally abnormal.
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