Something seemed off and I was sure of it. The pile of books in my cupboard seemed oddly short. This wasn’t usual. Normally when I’d open the doors all books would just tumble down and land at my feet. They could hate me all they’d want for the way I treated them but they were my best friends. It happened a few months back when
my mother told me to put them inside after seeing the tall pile of books beside my bed getting saturated with the dust.
Occasionally I would give away those books temporarily for someone to read. That’s the thing about books, like sheer happiness there’s a joy in spreading good stories that you read through books. I felt there was a piece of my soul in it, in something I enjoyed, something I loved. That’s the reason why I couldn’t fathom myself to just donate them all.
However now standing there facing my cupboard, I wondered where had all of them gone? The pile seemed too short even if I’d lent a few.
I didn’t care the clothes in front were kept to perfection by me just a week back nor did I care they were nicely ironed. One by one I started to peel each cloth from the neatly arranged pile desperate to find them.
Right as I was nearing to the end of the clothes a new pile of hardcover started to show up. The title made me smile.
One. Two. Three…. The amount of books that lay here were shocking! The delight of finding my books didn’t last long when I knew there were so many books I never read out of the books I’d just found out. There were times when I’d gone to the bookstore and bought home books because I was under the impression I’ve read all the content I had back home.
Something that hit home was I couldn’t even recollect the titles when they’d gone missing. I knew I had to get to work immediately…..
Three hours later when my mom entered the room to call me for dinner, all she saw was a scattered room- clothes strewn all across the floor and a girl sitting cross legged reading a book right next to the pile of books beside her bed again.
Image courtesy: Google.