I almost finished reading Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, right before I moved homes (that is last week). It delayed my packing process and gave me nightmares. It is not a particularly lengthy story. And still i was savoring it at leisure. Not to forget, it kept me up at night.

Now, a crazy reader can’t complain about disturbed sleep when you sleep with Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 under your pillow. 

I have faced my share of ‘so you studied literature, what is that worth?’ kind of responses from a lot of people. I do not get rid of books once I’ve read them. My books trickle down to my Ahmedabad home where my library is ‘unterwegs’. Living a lonesome life has pushed me closer and closer to books. And thanks to the internet, I know many people who are obsessed with their books. 

In the world of Guy Montag, I would be one of the first ones to go. Or may be there is a 17 year old Clarisse McClellan trapped inside my body. 

Montag was on the run, he has established contact with the literary rebels. And bam!, it was time for me to return the book. It was time to leave the city. I returned it without reading the last 15 pages. I just couldn’t read them at the time. Of course I can simply order an ebook, look up on the net but I won’t finish reading it till I get another library copy of it. 

It is difficult to look at a dystopia positively, but it is not impossible. Ideas don’t die with people, burn with books. And the unfinished books linger longer in your mind than stacking away something that you are done with. 

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