Author: Kevin George

Abstract: The stacks of unread books in my cabinet have always disturbed me in one way or the other. They remind me, time and again, that I have fallen back on a promise that I had made to an old friend who encouraged me to take up literature despite my family’s predilection for medical-engineering fields. When my relatives and teachers seemed disconcerted and disappointed at my decision, she exhorted me to take the road less travelled (at least, in India). But she made me promise something. I remember the last conversation we had years ago when she said: “Literature/Arts graduates tend to develop apathy towards their areas of interest once they reach 25. I want you to be a life- long learner/reader. Don’t give up on reading even when you have managed to land a lucrative job.” I found myself transforming into a voracious reader, lucubrating over impenetrable works on philosophy, literature and philology for hours at a stretch. But, somewhere along the way, I developed this hebetude that I had been warned against by my friend. This didn’t happen all of a sudden. And I hold responsible not only myself but also the people around me who treat ‘the reading type’ as mavericks and introverts. I never understood the rationale behind this prejudice. Were they tactfully trying to masquerade their insecurities? I will never know and honestly, I don’t care anymore.

Keywords: Tsundoku, Covid-19, Dostoevsky, Troglodyte, Nietzsche, Tolstoy

Article Info: Received: 28 Nov 2020; Received in revised form: 18 Jan 2021; Accepted: 25 Jan 2021; Available online: 08 Feb 2021

DOI: 10.22161/ijels.61.23