I Walk

Photo Courtesy: i-am-jenius.deviantart.com

I walk a path without knowing the road,
Ignorant of where it will lead,
Oblivious to see what it will bring.

Book Review: Tuesdays With Morrie

Book Title: Tuesdays With Morrie

Author: Mitch Albom

Genre: Memoir (Non-Fiction)

Price: Rs. 295 (On the book cover)

Review

This book is the first non-fiction book that managed to hold my interest through the end. Usually, non-fictions irritate the hell out of me for they are full of advices on how you are supposed to live and how you are supposed to react to certain situations. Generally non-fictions are based on the criteria that history repeats itself and so you are supposed to behave in a certain way in a certain situation. But I don’t believe in that. In my opinion, every individual is different because they are shaped by the society they are living in and the varied experiences they have gone through. And hence, every individual behaves and reacts differently to the same situation, rendering those “advices” useless and worthless.

The Curse

“Tana, can you pull up the last bucket? My arms are aching.” Riri, thoroughly tired after pulling 7-8 buckets of water from the well, called out to her sister who was busy shifting water into different pots. Even though Tana immediately stopped what she was doing to help out her sister, Riri’s mood wasn’t improved. She was very well aware that they would have to carry back the pots to their home, which was nearly 2 kilometers afar.

In an effort to cheer up their morning chore, Riri started singing while shifting water.

Book Reviews

I am a big book worm. In literal sense. I don’t read books. I devour them and internalize them. I live with the protagonists of the stories, and die with them if required. Genres do not matter to me, unless they are non-fictional (there may be exceptions to it).

And this is not a new love of mine. Books are my old flame.

Betrayal

Oma’s feet were dunked in the pond that was settled in the middle of the wilderness. Fishes were playing near her feet. Every now and then they would nibble on her feet but she didn’t notice. She didn’t even notice that it was an extremely hot afternoon. Not a single leaf fluttered. Resident birds and monkeys were mute; it seemed they were contemplating about their survival in the face of harsh summer. Utter silence reigned over the forest. A shattered glass bottle was lying few feet away from Oma; the broken pieces dazzling like huge diamonds in the sunlight.