An Unread Book

An Unread Book
I was about to read a book for the first time. I was about to open its cover and unravel whatever lay within for the first time, and I didn’t have the faintest idea of its exact contents. There was a hard cover on it. I did have a vague idea of it being interspersed with a lot of bright pictures, but I was quite wary about any dark black pages that were to be a part of the milieu while I browsed through it.



I really didn’t know if I was to be before these pages right from the outset, or if they to be presented a while later. I knew I had to be before them sooner or later whether I liked it or not. Their very thoughts had the power and potency to stop me from browsing the book. The book lay in its pristine form before me, and  I knew I  couldn’t close the book If I didn’t like the first few pages. There was very little choice before me now.



 I don’t know why but I wanted these chapters to be before me right from the beginning, right from the  time I opened the book. They were the most challenging pages of the book for me, I like challenges, and perhaps I wanted to know them before anything else. They were going to arouse a typical dissonance within me with respect to the book, I know, but I shall have to put up with it for a long time to come. I felt I deserved to know everything about the book even while it lay closed before me.



You don’t close a book because you don’t like its first few pages, and nor did I have any such intention. I didn’t want the book to be ever closed. The book has several different chapters, I know. Some of them were going to be about me too. This is where I am idealised as a perfect and virtuous being I am not.



I want to be all that the book says about me. I want to touch the pinnacle of perfection defined by the book before me. its definition seems to me to be precise and accurate. all of a sudden, all other books I have even seen and all other definitions of myself I have ever read fade into oblivion. Pages of these books lack the sweet fragrance emanating while I flip through some pages of the book before me.



I haven’t even touched the book yet, but somehow, I know quite a sweet fragrance is going to be found once I flip through its pages, quite like the one I have often smelt when I turn over a new book’s pages. There is a typical smell of novelty tinged with some staleness, but there is also a freshness in it not found anywhere else.



I wish there was a way possible to capture this sweet fragrance in a tangible form. I wish there was a way possible to apply this fragrance over my clothes. On second thoughts, the fragrance derives its merits by virtue of being a part of the literature before me. it is going to lose its form and magic if I try to discover it in any other form.



The best part of the adventure I am really looking forward to is when I get to read the chapters telling me all about Zeenat. There is a certain amount of innocence and freshness captured in her name. I hope I can read the book well.