Been a while since I read. Read anything actually. I tried to go spiritual with ‘Autobiography of a yogi’. Turned out to be slightly disappointing for me. More of miracles performed by different yogis than their words or thoughts. Maybe I had to see and understand through the miracles, and maybe I was just too dumb for that and wanted more on thoughts that I could analyze, dissent or assimilate. Either way, I couldn’t finish it. Maybe will take it up later, not sure.
Then there was a really barren phase when I read nothing at all for a few months. Managed to plod through 97 pages of ‘A Christmas Carrol’ by Dickens. Was good, but thought I wasn’t really the target audience for that. The characters were too black and white for my liking. Maybe am just a cynic looking for shades of grey in everything I see and read, and some depth to things.
Now started off on 1984 by George Orwell. Managed to read like 5 pages so far. Sounds good. Like the language and the way he describes things. Might just be a good read to get me out of this self imposed…stagnation, you could say.
Have some pages left of Fountainhead too which I started reading more than a year back and read only when am on flights. Why, I don’t know. But helps me fine on flights. But really hope to get back to reading. Considering that it is going to be winter soon, I guess a return to reading is only inevitable. The perennial rains, clouds, coldness paint a nice gloomy picture that is best exploited by reading something nice, deep and probably cynical/gloomy.