Why I keep coming back to children’s books

imagesA while back, me and my friend were having a discussion about our favourite genres. For her, it was contemporary fiction, with ‘To kill a mockingbird’ topping her list. I sat pondering for a while, what was my favourite genre? After a while, I picked science fiction. I love science fiction. I have enjoyed every book I have read in this genre. I love the imagery into the future, the insight or vision to imagine life and scenarios so different from reality but which within them have that grain of truth or rather possibility.

But it is not science fiction that I turn to when I am low and depressed. Last week, was one of those phases and I picked out Heidi from my to read shelf. My friend, the same one, had said lovely things about the book. It was her favourite as a kid.

I sadly never read books as a kid. I just remember reading Enid Blyton’s Famous Five series and then later after few years directly moving on to Agatha Christie and so on. So, I lost out on all these jewels as a kid – there were no quirky names and delicious sounding chocolates for me by Roald Dahl, no Swiss Alps, no Cat in the Hat, no Wizard of Oz and well you get the picture.

It has been only recently that I have been blessed to go through these works. And while I know it is not the same thing, the wonder is missing because I’m all grown and messed up, it still somehow warms the heart.

Like, I still drool thinking about eatable marshmellow pillows and wonder what would hot ice creams for cold days taste like. And shouldn’t luminous lollies for eating in bed at night or cavity filling caramels and invisible chocolate bars really have become a reality by now – they are really needed, aren’t’ they.

And while I could have used information on how to identify witches as a kid, it is still handy isn’t it? Like maybe I could find one in my work place or something. I have a strong inclination that some of them are witches indeed but I haven’t seen them without their wigs to be sure. But I’m keeping my eyes open.

Thidwick the big hearted moose reminds me so much of my friend and Lorax is so much more relevant now than when it was written. As for Heidi, I would so like to visit those Swiss Alps, atleast once. Though I can understand the charm of that life thanks to my grandmom’s place which is full of trees and squirrels and insects that buzz all day long. There are no shepherd’s though but lot of cows and monkeys and trees and the river and rocky roads and steep climbs.

To sum up, while I’m no more a kid, these books bring a smile and a warmth to cheer even the most woeful heart while all the time keeping the kid in you alive. And that’s why I can’t help but return to children’s books.

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