You read, You relate, You never forget.

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You read, You relate, You never forget.

Words have more power than swords, paper has more patience than people; is it?

I was always a fan of fairy tales and comics. Every year my sister would buy me some amazing story books from the book fair and that is how it all started. She would take out time to read them out to me, read them with me and sometimes just help me from the distance but anyways it always left me happy. I still have all those books, a little torn, pages turning yellow but still worth cherishing. My favorite book back then was ‘The Red Riding Hood’ and the reason will leave you in splits, I loved the hood she was wearing on the cover. Well, I was really young, stop judging me!

I started writing when I was only 10. My first poem was titled ‘Subjects’, well that is a story for another time but I loved putting senseless rhyming words together to express my anger and for me that worked out really well. With time I started understanding the pain underneath the words people wrote, the blood in between the lines and I touched down more on my human side but you’re so incomplete if you write but never read. I remember when I read Pride and Prejudice, I was 12, I didn’t understand much of what it said but what I did, I can never forget, it made me believe that standing up for yourself can never be wrong and it is something I still do. When I read The Alchemist, I started believing in omens and nothing makes me happier than imagining him calling out loud in his deep voice, “I am coming, Fatima.”

When you read a story, you don’t only read about the character and its life, you start feeling it and that association is what makes it so special. When I read my first Enid Blyton – Adventures of Mr. Pink Whistle, I wanted to help people. When I read Sherlock, I wanted to think everything thoroughly. When I read Macbeth, I mentally killed a man and then washed my guilty hands alongside Lady Macbeth. The Tempest was my serendipity and The Diary of a Young Girl made me cry.

I am 18 now, I have read so many books, I read new blogs, poems and stories every day, but few things, the moment you read them, you feel a little jitter in your body, they mean a way too much to you to ever forget them. And these are some of the things very close to my heart.

I remember and often use this line, “..and then I smiled like I will never cry for him again..” It’s sad I don’t remember where I read it, but it sure is imprinted on my heart.

Out of so many things I have read in my life till now, my two biggest favorites are written by few very close people to me. A poem that changed the way I describe myself, the way I always looked at others: I am not that kind of a girl by Purnima Singh and 4 little lines on how wounds heal by Khyati Khemka. One another piece of writing that is dear to my heart is an Instagram post by Humble- the poet on how a girl should dress.

Well if you are a reader, you know what exactly I am talking about. If not, start today and you will know that yes, words can give wounds and can heal too.

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