Figuring a way out of a muddling reverie
One fine morning, a whispering sound woke me up. I tried to look for the source, but it was futile. Later, I realised that the whispers were coming from my study table. Wait! I must be imagining this or it may be a dream. Whatever it was, it was bizarre. My books and my Kindle were arguing.
The books were telling the Kindle, “You watch, these humans will forget you once they find something better.” The Kindle replied with a hint of pride, “Nonsense! I’m smarter and more advanced then you. They spend a lot on me. I may have replaced you but nothing can replace me.”
The books went on the defensive and said, “You are speaking out of pride, we may be covered in dust and placed in a corner right now but we’re immortal. We will hold our importance till eternity.”
The Kindle snapped back, “Gone are those days my dear, now people prefer me. I’m a one-time investment with numerous benefits.”
“No!” replied the books in unison, “How can they forget the joy of jotting down the meaning of a word in the margin? How can they forget the fun of doodling away boredom? Or the happiness in underlining one’s favourite lines? How can they forget my good old fragrance and the excitement of placing designer bookmarks in my pages?”
The Kindle was about to speak up when the books turned towards me and said, “Just look at her, we gave her specs with minor loss in sight but you will surely take away her vision.”
The Kindle thought for a while and said, “Reading is an art whether people read from you or me, it doesn’t matter. The thing that matters is what they are learning from us.”
The books were impatient. “Now stop this discussion and ask her who is better,” they said, pointing towards me.
It might appear awkward to others but I loved to jump in. I waved at them with affection and said, “I bought you both. Obviously, both of you have an important place in my life and that’s why you are on my table.” “My dear books,” I said addressing them, “I derive pleasure from you, you are just not a stack of pages but my friends for life. I feel the words you hold have specially been written for me. You will always be special.”
I could see the books beaming but as I switched to the Kindle I could see their smile waning. I told the Kindle, “You provide me easy services, you provide me books that either I can’t afford or those I can’t find in the market.”
I was about to pronounce my judgment when my mother woke me up from the muddling reverie by shaking my shoulders. I’m still trying to figure out what I was going to say.
HOW CAN THEY FORGET THE JOY OF JOTTING DOWN MEANING OF A WORD IN THE MARGIN? HOW CAN THEY FORGET MY EXCITEMENT OF PLACING DESIGNER BOOKMARKS IN MY PAGES?