The first story I ever read was when I was in tenth grade. We had been asked to read Gulliver’s Travels and pen down our views about its characters, among other things. Until then, I had never read a book – other than my textbooks, I mean. My parents or teachers had never actually encouraged Read more…

As a tenth grader, studying was the one thing I hated the most. If I am allowed to be more specific here, I am talking about reading books. Almost every other person in my life seemed to suggest me to read novels and non-fiction books for the sake of “entertainment”. For someone who just about Read more…

Back in tenth grade, the one thing I absolutely abhorred was reading. In fact, I even wondered how reading could be regarded as a real hobby. My dad, who happened to be a bibliophile, would often argue with me that books could boost my analytical skills. However, more often than not, his words would fall Read more…

“Mom, come on! We’re getting late, let’s go!” screamed a seven-year-old me at the top of her lungs, eager to get to her painting class. My younger brother stood beside me, surprisingly patient. Both of us were waiting for our mother to come downstairs. “I’m coming guys, hold on a minute. You know it’s not Read more…

An over-analyzer! Yes, that was me a few years ago. Like most people my age, I too had grown up with the ambition to work in a metro city. Once the right opportunity came along, I moved to a cosmopolitan city from my tiny village. It was boom! Everything seemed new – a new work Read more…