When I was young, I was a little bit of an ugly duckling, not that I had no friends, but I was always conscious about my appearance, and to get out of this self obsessing habit, I used to read, I read almost everything I could get my hands on. Reading opened my world, I travelled around places , across time and age, experienced happiness, grief, betrayal even love, long before I actually experienced it all in my life.
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I can confidently say that I’ve been taught life’s lessons by the greatest minds of every age. If someone were to ask me what is it I remember most of my childhood , the first would be, lying close to my grandmother at night, listening to her whisper stories to me, and the second would be begging Mamma to buy me a new book every time we passed by a bookstore.
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Of all the authors’ works I’ve read Chekov is my favourite writer. Though the dictionary defines an author and a writer as a person pursuing the same profession, for me a writer is a person who just simply doesn’t write but speaks as he does and you can almost feel his presence as he narrates his stories. He ignites that spark that sets your mind thinking and touches your heart in a way nothing has ever before. Chekov understands the human nature, better than any other writer I’ve ever come across. Through his works , it can be understood that human beings everywhere are alike, though people are segregated based on their color, culture, religion, language and boundaries, the qualities that make them human are the same.
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The stories he wrote in that era, are still relevant , even though lifetimes have gone by since his pen scratched away a story on a paper. We may have different opinions about everything, but we are still the same, we feel sorry when a baby cries, we get inspired by a great thought, we feel jealous and inadequate when we see others succeed, we make commitments and promises that we can never fulfill, with so many binding similarities, isn’t it hypocritical to say we all are unique? We all are the same, and that’s what Chekov taught me.
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Had I the knowledge of time travel, I would go to the late 1800’s and sit in the audience of the Greek Orthodox monastery in Taganrog and watch the young Anton as he sings along with his brothers in the choir. If only technology had evolved so much. My writing..I dedicate to Anton Chekov, the man who instilled maybe not the first but the finest lesson about humanity in me.
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Sandra is a student, an amateur writer, reader, dreamer, shopaholic and the list goes on and on. She loves long walks on the beach and waking up to a wonderful breakfast, visiting new places and meeting new people. In short she likes every thing in life that is not black and white. Admires people who lead their life differently,who look beyond the obvious and seek to live their life according to their convictions, at their own pace and in own their time. She blogs at http://www.fortheperfectionistinme.blogspot.in/