EDITOR'S CHOICE

There are a few things I envy. One is when someone says they're going somewhere. It could be anywhere, holiday, pilgrimage, weekend getaway, shopping? It could be to the next lane, but even before I can can think it, this green worm of envy springs up making me feel all deprived and envious. And no amount of rationalizing can pacify the creature. The other is when someone's reading a book I've hugely enjoyed. I could well be the person who recommended the book, or even lent it to them, but it doesn't stop me from wishing it were me reading that book again.

Because the joy of reading is incomparable. It's your companion when you're alone in a room full of people, and a conversation opener after you say hello. How often we find ourselves in coffee shops, or airports, waiting for a friend or flight to turn up, and how often has a good book spared you the irritation of waiting interminably. You almost feel like the Buddha, serenely boarding a flight after a 5 hour delay, while the rest of the people are tearing their hair out.

Book addicts are aware of the power of words to transport you to faraway places. When I was devouring Naguib Mahfouz' The Cairo Trilogy, it's as if I were walking in the little alleys and lanes of Cairo with Ahmad and his family; two steps behind of course. As I read, the words disappeared and all I could see were the characters coming alive and enacting their parts on the page. Then there was Steig Larsson's The Millennium Series. I would rush home every night to settle this huge book on my tummy and switch to Sweden where the novels are set. Immediately I felt like I was beamed to the stark winter landscape, smelling the fear that Lisbeth Salander felt, watching Blomkvist's every move thinking how well George Clooney would fit into this role.

It's the best seat you can get in a show. People who snuggle in bed with a book know the deep comfort it provides. Who needs company? How often can you say that? Not in a movie hall or a theatre, or a party, all of where you feel compelled to have a companion with you. And when you're nearing the end of the book, a vague feeling of anxiety creeps in, as if the finger of fate is reminding you that your good run is over and you're back to the humdrum of reality. That it's time to shut the book and get down to the mundane chores you let pile up. That you've got to say a reluctant farewell to the wonderful characters who became your friends for a while and perhaps even taught you a thing or two.

Someone I know is just about to read, Neither here nor there by my favourite author Bill Bryson. Lucky girl. She will watch the stunning show put up by Aurora Borealis, while I sit here and write this column. Life?s not fair!

Amy Fernandes

Editorial Director

amy.fernandes@jademagazine.in