He loves sitting over here. How much busy he is, he loves to spend time over here.
Almost 90 hours for minimum is spend annually over here. Though it’s a minor part, he always felt this time to be worth spending. He loved the solitude he used to enjoy. Whenever he used to be there, it gave him a calm and peaceful atmosphere. The only thing that gave him a company in his heaven is books and magazines.
Last year he had paid almost 20,000 Indian Currencies for a teak wood shelf. The corners were carved artistically. On the top most part, by the center, the shelf got an image of book carved into the wood. Both dad and mom were aghast when he installed this shelf over there. They branded him as a bigot. Many of his relatives had ranting over this extravagant furniture over and over again It had a drawer in the lower part where he had planned to stock his Readers Digest’s and Outlook’s. The shelf consisted of the whole gamut of books, right from romantic fictions, detective novels, thought invoking fictions, cold blooded thrillers to philosophical non fictions, and biographies.
Near to the shelf there was a trundle table. He used to keep the latest copies of RD’s and other magazines on that. There was a pen holder also which boasted a collection of three or four pens. He used to keep his mobile in vibratory mode on that when he was engaged in reading. People used to wonder what he used to do with his mobile over there.
Daily mornings he visited this place religiously. He had himself convinced that without some time spent over there, there is no world outside exciting him. He realized long ago that a minimum of 10-15 minutes he need to be there; Long ago before when he started working, before he attended colleges or before he went to high schools. He never disclosed this dalliance, except that his family members knew that.
Sitting over here he had completed reading many Charles Dicken’s, R K Narayan’s, Ruskin Bond’s in those pre teen ages; Sidney Sheldon’s, M&B’s, Jeffery Archer’s in those Teenage ages; few autobiographies of some visionaries and God-knows-how-many magazines and newspapers. These four walls which covered him from the outer world seemed to give him a silent company. He at times used to whisper them the lines and dialogues of those dramas he used to read. No other person was allowed to intrude his space when he was inside. Be whatever urgency the other person got.
One thing he never forgot to do while leaving the room was to flush the excrement's he had relieved during the course of reading sitting on top of that plush Olive green European Closet.