A dog is often said to be a man's best friend. There are also others who say books are man's best friend. These epigrams sometimes make me wonder if no human being could ever become another man's best friend! I had been 'friends' with both dogs and books.
I had shared with my dog my biscuits and morsels of food at the dining room. We would go to parks on weekends and Sundays for flirting. I had seen him falling in love and he was a witness of me going gaga over the same.
He would leap into my bed every morning to ascertain whether my alarm clock perform its assigned task. We also had misunderstandings and bad days. We pretend to ignore each other despite fully knowing that we feel terribly inside. By the end of the day, we knew reconciliation was always a better option than going to sleep with a heavy heart. Once we settled our differences we would feel alive again and looked ahead to start a brand new day together.
However, my dog died when he was only 3 years old. I was depressed. I loiter alone along the lonely lanes and parks we had frequented. The worst thing was that I no longer have the courage and enthusiasm to take in another dog. I feared, I would not be able to bear another sorrowful event of losing another 'dog friend'!
One day as I was sitting in a park, I overheard an old man telling his young grandson: Papu, you know what, books are the best friend you can have, they never betray you… and lastly they never leave you alone lonely.
Believing the old man, I translated his words into practice. I started collecting books from friends and neighbours. Besides, I also bought some pirated books sold on the streets! Within three months I was in the company of some 80 'book friends'. Some of them lay on my table, some sleeps inside the bookshelf waiting to be woken up, some under my pillow while others lay on the kitchen shelves!
Books and books were all I could think of. My brother thought I was getting paranoid. My mother somehow managed to tolerate my 'book friends' laying all around the house. My father suggests I get a new dog. My sisters wants me to bring them Mills& Boons and not the "boring literatures".
As time passes I began to realise that my 'book friends' were becoming selfish. They always want me to read into their 'mind' or dust them clean. I began to have second thought on what the old man had said. Was he just another depressed man like me, at that time, who also had just lost his dog? As my weary mind starts churning out the possible answers to the vexed question on 'best friends' it becomes more obvious to me that the old man had said those 'wise words' simply to lighten up his heavy heart.
The more I get closer to my 'book friends', the less time I spent with my family and human friends. Conversation with them becomes as rare as a dodo. I began to feel the emptiness in me. I feel cold in my squared room with all my 'book friends'. They shared me their jokes, I forgot to laugh. I read their thrilling stories, no longer do I get excited.
Had it not been for the saviour word— introspection— I would have blackout. As my mind races back, images of support and encouragement by family members and human friends appeared before my gleaming eyes. They were the one who had stood by me at all time.
Though I love my 'book friends', I finally decided that I have had enough time with them. Now that my mind and senses are clear, I can see and feel that dogs and books can only be man's 'part-time friends' and not a 'man's best friend'. They can never replace human beings.
A dog is often said to be a man's best friend. There are also others who say books are man's best friend. These epigram sometimes make me wonder if no human being could ever become another man's best friend! I had been 'friends' with both dogs and books.
I had shared with my dog my biscuits and morsels of food at the dining room. We would go to parks on weekends and sundays for flirting. I had seen him falling in love and he was a witness of me going gaga over the same.
He would leap into my bed every morning to ascertain whether my alarm clock perform its assigned task. We also had misunderstandings and bad days. We pretend to ignore each other despite fully knowing that we feel terribly inside. By the end of the day, we knew reconciliation was always a better option than going to sleep with a heavy heart. Once we settled our differences we would feel alive again and looked ahead to start a brand new day together.
However, my dog died when he was only 3 years old. I was depressed. I loiter alone along the lonely lanes and parks we had frequented. The worst thing was that I no longer have the courage and enthusiasm to take in another dog. I feared, I would not be able to bear another sorrowful event of losing another 'dog friend'!
One day as I was sitting in a park, I overheard an old man telling his young grandson: Papu, you know what, books are the best friend you can have, they never betray you… and lastly they never leave you alone lonely.
Believing the old man, I translated his words into practice. I started collecting books from friends and neighbours. Besides, I also bought some pirated books sold on the streets! Within three months I was in the company of some 80 'book friends'. Some of them lay on my table, some sleeps inside the bookshelf waiting to be woken up, some under my pillow while others lay on the kitchen shelves!
Books and books were all I could think of. My brother thought I was getting paranoid. My mother somehow managed to tolerate my 'book friends' laying all around the house. My father suggests I get a new dog. My sisters wants me to bring them Mills& Boons and not the "boring literatures".
As time passes I began to realise that my 'book friends' were becoming selfish. They always want me to read into their 'mind' or dust them clean. I began to have second thought on what the old man had said. Was he just another depressed man like me, at that time, who also had just lost his dog? As my weary mind starts churning out the possible answers to the vexed question on 'best friends' it becomes more obvious to me that the old man had said those 'wise words' simply to lighten up his heavy heart.
Had it not been for the saviour word— introspection— I would have blackout. As my mind races back, images of support and encouragement by family members and human friends appeared before my gleaming eyes. They were the one who had stood by me at all time.
Though I love my 'book friends', I finally decided that I have had enough time with them. Now that my mind and senses are clear, I can see and feel that dogs and books can only be man's 'part-time friends' and not a 'man's best friend'. They can never replace human beings.
