Reading is one of the best activities to indulge in. It makes us informative, curious, knowledgeable and mature.
Usually, there is no determined place to read as reading is an activity unrelated to time or place.
However, many homes have a reading room designed specifically for reading purposes.
The reading room is the most peaceful and serene place in the whole house. It is usually the room where the books are kept, neatly stacked in a shelf or in a rack. The reading room is situated in the corner, far from the noise emanating from various other parts of the house.
My Reading Room:
My reading room is a small, cosy room with a big teakwood desk, a table lamp, two huge bookshelves and a fireplace. It is the only place in the entire house which is cut off from the voices of the family members. This room once belonged to my grandfather who used to be an avid reader. His huge collection of novels, books, encyclopaedias, plays etc. has been passed down to my father. The table lamp, though old and rusty, still brightens up the whole room.
There are two oil paintings embedded on the two opposite walls of the room and a miniature wooden sculpture of one of the greatest minds of the 21st century, Albert Einstein. The room becomes most comfortable for reading during the chilly winters when I start the fire in the fireplace and read while wrapped up in my blanket.
Incidents in My Reading Room:
I recall many small incidents taking place in the reading room of our house. On one instance, my father had stormed into the reading room in anger, almost knocking off the hourglass placed on the desk. He was angry because my brother had misplaced a book he had bought recently and had stormed in to re-check the same in the book shelf.
On another instance, I remember how a snake had crawled into the reading room from our backyard and had very comfortably placed itself between two books on the lowest shelf. My mother had almost fainted screaming when she noticed the same while cleaning the room.
The reading room where I used to spend most of my time during m childhood remains abandoned these days. The books have turned old and the shelves have become rusty. The only time the room is opened is when the cleaning lady comes. But even after so many days, when I visit that room, a lot of memories flood my mind.