On my morning walk the other day, I came across a young man reading out aloud the newspaper to an older person. This evoked in me some vivid memories of the daily duty some of us had long ago. This was to read out aloud the newspaper each morning to our grandfather who had lost his sight but not his sharp faculty for uncovering the truth. You see, my grandfather had been a sub-judge in the district court of Chikkaballapura and was known for his acuteness in probing the evidence presented to him!
So, that daily newspaper reading was not just a mechanical chore.
We had to understand what we were reading and be alert to the searching questions he would ask. We did feel as if we were in the courtroom with him. But I wonder now if this early initiation is the reason for my near-addiction to reading the newspaper everyday.
Our branch of the family lived in Kolkata and each morning saw my younger brother and myself hanging around, looking unconcerned, as we kept our ears out for the thud of the morning paper landing on our verandah. Then, we would both race for it, and for the armchair that was the perfect reading seat.
Of course, if our father got there first, we would retire as gracefully as we could manage, and wait impatiently for him to finish. Luckily, when we did get it, we each had our own sections of interest so the paper would be distributed piece-meal between us.
But if there was a sports result that we were both eager to know, there came the rub.
If my brother ‘got’ the news first, oh what torment! He would grimace and moan or cheer, skirting dangerously close to giving away the result, but to be fair, he never actually did. What was that urge to ‘know’ the news, I wonder. There was a thrill in seeing the headline, and if it was dramatic enough, no book could compete. I think it was also because each day brought something fresh and new to read and think about. As I got older, there was the ritual of the accompanying cup of tea.
Recently, my daughter suggested I take an early morning walk in addition to my evening hike.
My first reaction was dismay that I would have to forgo my cuppa and the newspaper! It felt like a false start to the day to go out in ignorance of what might have taken place.
The festivals are a welcome break for the newspaper staff, but not for me. I fret and fume on the days when there is no newspaper. But there have been some bonus points, too.
Once, when I was visiting a school in Uttarakhand for a month, the only newspaper available was in Hindi. The need for the daily news was so overpowering that I would climb to the library on a higher slope and struggle through the Hindi words, but after just a week of this immersion, imagine my delight to see my comprehension and reading speed taking a quantum leap!
Attempting the crossword each day is another lure, and I feel a personal sense of sorrow when a favourite setter has passed on.
Reading the middle is a recurring joy, too, especially because I can spot it in the physical paper exactly where it should be – right in the middle! And if my piece happens to be there to read, what bliss!
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