Love believes in giving.

8 Feb

I ran up the stairs, all the way to the top floor of the building. Such was my state of excitement. Such was my euphoria.
The time had come, finally. The wait had come to it’s end. It was here, the day, the minute, the second I had been waiting for since God knows how long.
The final part of Harry Potter series was here, and I had just driven to the most prestigious bookstore in town(the only one stocking it within two days of the book launch) with my brother and parents to get it.
As I finally took the final two stairs in a leap, following my elder brother as closely as I could, and my feet met the plush carpet of the polished store, I found my heart skipping a beat at the sight of the beautifully arranged pillar of the Harry Potter books near the check out counter.
If I was in a movie, the world would have stopped, the books would have had an ethereal glow to them and the angels would have sang in the background at that instant.
Still, even though none of that happened, my excitement unbelievably went up a dozen more notches and my face, I am sure , was covered with the goofiest of smiles.
But then, I landed back heavily on the ground, falling from my flight to the heavens, as I saw the long line of people awaiting to get their own copy. All equally enthusiastic, equally happy.
All at that instant my worst enemies as I caught anxiety clawing around in my throat wanting me to scream them away from the books.
What if-oh God forbid-but what if by the time it was our turn they would have sold out all the copies they had shipped in? I asked my brother this question repeatedly enough to make the usually cool person lose his calm. He told me to shut up and not to be stupid, they would have gotten enough copies to last them a week at the least.
I disagreed, though silently, as I saw the pile of copies so gorgeously decorated before, shrinking out in its size.
And then, even though I only had courage to peek through squinted eyes, I saw the inevitable happening.
Two people before it would finally have been our turn to get the book, the last of the pile got picked up, packaged and sold.
I closed my eyes, to hide from the truth, to pray, to keep the tears from falling as I whispered to my usually worshipped-to-death brother, “See, idiot, they are out of them. I told you we should have left earlier.”
I heard him heave a sigh and I thought he finally understood the situation we were in but when I opened my eyes so that I could say something to make him feel better, I found him wearing only a smile.
I gritted my teeth, “This makes you happy?”
His grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly. I frowned at him but when he pointed behind me I followed the direction of his gaze unwillingly. And then all but screamed with happiness.
There sat one of the sale clerks with a huge carton of books on his side as he set up a pile of books like the last one.
But this one was better, as I knew that from this lot, one would be going home with me that evening.
We came home that day, my excitement bubbling through the house, my brother’s like always contained behind a facade of boredom.
But we both had the same goal, which we both achieved. To finish the book as soon as humanly possible.

I fell in love with the Harry Potter series when I was in grade fourth, and my brother suggested I read the book he was reading-part four of the series. Once I was done with that I quickly read through the first three parts and then I had wait with my brother every year for a new book, lamenting when the release was delayed, rejoicing when on time, praying for the next one to come sooner.
But it wasn’t only these series I fell so hard for. Over the years I have fallen in love with many a writer, many a book series-in short I have fallen in love with reading.
And that’s one love I can’t get over, an affair that has taken me to places, helped me meet people no other relation has ever been able to. This is one relationship not just full of depth but it is always giving. Always kind. Always reliable.
Hence, my deep affection for reading, for finding new writers and revisiting the old loved ones, is not just irreplaceable, it’s hard for me to imagine my life without this dimension in my everyday routine.
Besides, what’s a quiet evening with a cup of cappuccino without a book to excite your mind?


P.S. I am loving this 28 days of love series not only because I am getting to focus on all things in my life that are important but also because I get to share my love for all these things with you guys. My favorite people of all. Remember, love is a billion little things in your life, not just that one person on his white horse.


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