The Books That Raised Me

‘World Book Day’ was observed on the 23rd of April, 2025— a reminder of the quiet, powerful presence that books have held in our lives. For me, it was also a moment of deep personal reflection. Books haven’t just been companions; they’ve been guides, teachers, and silent mentors throughout my life.

As a child, I would diligently save up 20 paise to rent a comic book from our local library. I still recall the tactile joy of those summer afternoons—the coarse texture of the pages, the slightly musty scent of old paper, and the quiet thrill of immersing myself in Chandamama, Amar Chitra Katha or the Tales of Vikramaditya. I would lose myself in those worlds for hours.

There was something deeply intimate about browsing through those books which were worn-out, dog-eared, time-worn pages, knowing that many little hands had flipped through them before me. That invisible thread of shared readership nurtured a subtle sense of community—an understanding that stories transcend ownership. In a world now dominated by digital immediacy, such experiences gently taught us patience, humility, and the joy of collective memory.

Stories like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Oliver Twist, and The Famous Five gave me a peek into lives very different from mine. Still, they made me feel the same curiosity, courage, and thrill of discovery. For many of us growing up in India, the settings in those stories were far from our own. But the emotions were universal. We didn’t have endless screens or activity-packed summers. There were just long afternoons, the heat, and time. We learned to get creative, to explore, to sit with our boredom. And in that quiet space, books became our window to the world.

That love for reading stayed with me—not just through school, but right up to this very moment, continuing to shape how I see the world. I’d often finish my lunch in a hurry, just so I could run to the library and squeeze in a few extra minutes with a book. That space, lined with stories, felt like home. My passion for books often overflowed beyond boundaries. I once smuggled a novel into class, unable to resist the pull of its final chapters. Predictably, I was caught. But instead of reprimanding me publicly, my teacher waited until the end of the day and spoke to me gently. I remember feeling nervous, worried that she might complain to my mother. But instead, she simply walked with me to the bus stop and spoke with quiet kindness.

That moment became pivotal. She helped me understand that love—even for something as sacred as books—must never override respect. I had disrupted her time, and that mattered. That conversation planted a lifelong seed in me: to honour the time and presence of others. It shaped not just my career as an educator, but also how I parent, live, and engage with the world.

Interestingly, I never formally studied literature. And yet, I became an English teacher—driven solely by my love for the written word. Books have been my refuge, my compass, and my quiet rebellion. They offered insights I didn’t find in people. In fact, I have often found that age does not guarantee wisdom. There are adults who remain perpetually adolescent in their outlook, while a child immersed in books can exhibit startling depth and empathy. Books have taught me how to see—beyond social scripts, beyond noise, beyond appearances.

At DṚŚHYA, this reverence for books continues to bloom. We’ve carved out a cosy library on our farm, home to a growing and eclectic collection spanning philosophy, memoirs, travel writing, poetry, and children's literature. Many of these books are pre-owned, lovingly donated by a dear friend—an educator and an impassioned collector of rare titles across time and culture. Each book, in its own way, is a portal to another time, another mind.

Every now and then, we host informal reading sessions with children from the neighbouring homes. We speak to them about stories, about questions, about curiosity. We believe that reading, especially in a shared setting, can nurture resilience, imagination, and self-trust. Moving forward, we hope to create structured workshops and programs around books—spaces of dialogue, reflection, and collective learning.

And we need fellow travellers on this journey…

If you're someone who cherishes books, we invite you to be part of this growing ecosystem. Our immediate need is to catalogue the library, and we’re keen to involve the local children in this process—as a community project. If you’re someone who could guide this initiative, we’d be happy to host you. You’ll have food, stay, and the peace of farm life in return for your time and energy.

Why is this important now?

Because in an increasingly AI-mediated world, our capacity for original thought and emotional depth is quietly eroding. We are bombarded with pre-digested information, rarely pausing to reflect. Reading demands that we slow down. It asks us to wrestle with ambiguity, to sit with discomfort, and to forge our own meanings. It teaches us to reflect, to connect ideas, and to feel more fully. Books don’t just give answers—they help us ask better questions.

If these reflections resonate with you—if you have ideas for nurturing reading culture among children, or wish to collaborate on related initiatives—we’d love to hear from you. Together, perhaps, we can build something that outlives us: a generation that reads, thinks, and feels deeply.