The book was better!
Are you/ were you an avid reader?
If yes, then you must have quipped “the book was better” more than once.
As a dance student, I learnt early on how to express with every tiny gesture. A pen in my hand, thick sheets of paper underneath, being able to put words to my expressions makes me feel alive. My eyes often tell a story, but its the ink that intricately elaborates it.
Words usually offer an insight into an author’s life. Every written piece, from sentences to prose, of fictional character, draws its first breath from the the writer. The pen is fuelled with the experiences that either left the writer’s soul parched or inspired.
If you’ve been nodding your head all along, or smiling away to yourself, then the following paragraphs might make some sense. A little unsure? I’d suggest continue reading anyway and try keeping your skepticism at bay.
Writing- the act of creating narratives from an expression or idea, is very personal. And reading, even more so. Whenever you open a book, am imaginary cloud engulfs you. The ink keeps a hold on you in its invisible spaces, luring you with textures, tastes and smells, envisioning the world in words to details that no photograph can capture.
For children, these worlds are surreal. Flying houses or chairs, elves and fairies, talking trees, secret life of inanimate objects, all seem regular. Gravity, manipulable and only a visitor in these worlds. With each passing year, we observe the real world, read the scientific explanations, gather knowledge, learn the ability to reason. The world in our heads thus become grounded. They get coloured in same hues and shades as in real world. Wardrobes full of memories, immediately play ‘Join-the-dots’ between the fictional and the real world. The neon gets replaced with pastels. The skies reflect the grey as a natural overtone rather than the bright light blue.
Amidst all the chaotic transformations, a ray of light escapes. The belief in magic lost in the forest of childhood, trickles down from this straw like tunnel of light. Through this tunnel enter the unbelievable stories from lands beyond our reasoned comprehension. Lands and worlds, products of our imaginations, settling down in the tiny corner.
A book, words, stories… The small bright corner guides us nudging the reason away, the imagination expands a little more, spreading its colour to the grey-est sectors. Soon the blank ink oozes colour. Gravity decides to move out, only visiting every now and then. The stories release you and with every one you read, a new feather gets added to your newly acquired wings.
Click… Tick… BAM!
A world of grey monotones on your 13" or 31" screens. The colour starts fading again. Gravity returns with a fierceness, that even walking seems like a burden. Wings wither away in its tucked and tied state. Stories become a distant tune, losing their words and dimming away. The tiny bright corner in your head losing it’s vigour. As the screens become bigger, the world in your head hollower. The blackness of the screen seeping into every colourful aspect of your imagination.
On a random day, you come across a story on the dark screen, armed in their dark attire. A story you faintly remember having a rendezvous with decades ago. Small and quick flashbacks. Images, though coming in short spurts, are vivid and soulful. That is all your memory black hole lets escape and looking at the screen in its glorified grey-ness, all you can say is
“The book was better!”
Originally published at nivetofive.blogspot.com on February 21, 2017.