If Truth Be Told: A Monk's Memoir Read Free Page B

brought it close to my mouth, just below my nose. My mouth watered, and I let her put the food into my mouth, reading all the while. I don't know how many chapattis she fed me but I ate whatever she gave. I kissed her cheek and went back to reading. It was my favorite habit, kissing my mother and sister every morning and evening. On the days I was happier, I did so more frequently. They looked after me with great love and I always felt secure and happy with them.
                  As she got up to take my plate away, Didi said, 'I'm glad you ate. Mummy will be relieved.' My parents worked in the same government organization, though in different departments. For nearly three decades, they had left the house together every morning and returned together in the evening. My father drove a scooter while my mother sat sideways behind him in a ladylike fashion. Patiala was a small town and their office was only fifteen minutes away. Like my parents, half of this town worked for the state electricity board; the other half worked for a nationalized bank. Or something like that.
    One day, our family of five went out for dinner. Next to the restaurant was a shop outside which scores of magazines and comics were on display. Within, shelf upon shelf was crammed with books from floor to ceiling. I didn't know such places existed, and was overwhelmed at the sight of these books. I was a tiny piece of iron and here was a giant magnet: it was impossible to resist and I couldn’t think of anything else. My dinner, the restaurant, my family—all of it ceased to matter. I had to be in that bookshop and have every comic and magazine of my interest. My father promised to take me there after the dinner but I couldn't wait. I insisted on going right away, and he finally gave in.
    Till now, I had only seen magazines and comics being delivered at home with the newspaper. I hadn't even realized you had to buy them separately; I thought they just came with the newspapers. Buy. This was the keyword. You needed money to buy them. If I had a lot of ‘rupees’, I could have bought all the books in the shop.
    Back at the restaurant, I couldn't stop adoring the magazines I just bought. At home, I couldn't sleep because I wanted to read them. At school the next day, I couldn't concentrate because I wanted to get back home and read. The more comics and magazines I read, the more I wanted to read. My obsession only got worse with time. Whenever my parents wanted to buy something for me, I asked for books.
    But how many could they buy after all? There was a limit. So, my first visit to the library was scheduled. It was nearly 5 km away from our home and, on my way there, I felt like an astronaut on his first space trip. When I entered the library, the visual stimulation and intellectual arousal I experienced at the sight of so many books was beyond what my little mind could assimilate. I looked at the librarian and thought he was the luckiest man in the world, for he could read all these books. He had no smile on his face though.
    Almost daily, I read for a couple of hours at the library, took two books home, finished them and exchanged them the next day for two more. Two was the limit per person.
              'Do you actually finish the books you take home every day?' The librarian asked me once.
              'Yes, I do.'
              'What's the rush? Why don't you enjoy them and read them slowly?'
              'I do enjoy them, Uncle. But I want to read all the books in this section.'
              He laughed. 'No one has ever done that.'
              He was right. I never got around to reading every book in the children's section. Still, after all the time I spent there, and twelve library cards, more than fourteen hundred books and two years later, he gave me a box of sweetmeats.
    Many tales in the various magazines and books I read featured gods who would