Good old days

A passion is nothing but a hobby which grows with us over time, like a seed planted, growing into a tree. The good old times when our grandma and granddad used to tell bedtime stories are fading. We rarely spend time with them. I felt a intense rush to write this post after a long telephone chat with my grandma. I still remember those days when i was lying down beside my grandma and say "Paati, kadha sollu paati". She would start "Once upon a time....". I would be listening to her with immense interest. As i started growing up, this habit still didn't leave me. Whenever i visit her, i would ask her to tell me a story with the same sparkle in my eyes. Even after all these years she would come up with a completely new story which she never told me before. I used to wonder how come she knows so many stories and when i finally became mature i understood those were not just stories. Some of them were stories she read and heard from her parents and grandma, some were her life incidents developed as a fiction. Those that she told me when i was 5years old, later became my 12th std syllabus. She simplified those big essays and complicated poetry as bedtime story.
This habit eventually turned me into a bibliophile and it is the best thing ever happened to me. I'd rather just read a book than go out partying. And nothing makes me more happier than sharing what i read with her. She may not know how to send e-mail or use the internet, she may not have a degree, she may not speak english fluently, But she is the most intelligent person i have ever met. She didn't stop learning even at the age of 65 and never stopped sharing those with me. I just want to thank her for planting the habit of reading. Thank you paati!