I inherited the habit of reading from my maternal Grandfather. He was a person who seemed to have read all the books in the World. I remember asking him once about some specific books which I had recently read, and to my astonishment he would have had read them all! Even on his last day, I remember I was reading Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, and he had taken it from me to have a look, and told me that it was a good one. I remember my mom chuckling whenever I would bring another book home; at one point of time all my pocket money was devoted to books and computer mags. Today, after around 22 months of work life; I would have amassed around 50 odd books(not counting the ones I read on loan)! Even today, I just put in around 650 bucks on another three books (Snapshots from Hell, Above Average and Naked Conversations)! Gosh, I don’t seem to have enough space left in my room to add more books. I am scared for the day when I would have to move somewhere, what would happen to this little treasure of mine!


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