I was a middle schooler. Eighth grade to be precise. I was in a new school, new medium of instruction. It was newness overload. I was looking for familiarity. Things that make me belong. I didn't have to look far or wide. For the Library was right there, prominent - announcing its existence with quaint tell tale signs, one of which was a little black board dangling to a post. "Library" it read, in white paint. I was led inside, like I was under a spell. This was amazing, really exiting and guess what? It was all out there, and I believed, specially thought through for me to discover its content.
The book cases were stacked to the ceiling, with glass panels showing off neatly arranged stacks of books. Being the government organization that it was, it had both the pros and cons of being one. The upside was that it was stocked like no other Library my humble small town had that was accessible to me. On the flip, it looked like it wasn't really appreciated for its worth. I lugged around a little ladder and just took a feel of the inventory. The isles felt surreal, like out of a story book. The books smelt of age, doused in thick, untouched dust. I browsed through them all, my jaw grazing the floor and paused when I read a particular title. "Little women" It read.
The title oh so resonated with my adolescent psyche. I somehow believed that I was this know all, full grown, mature woman in my thirteen year old head, (A delusion that didn't dissipate until lately, but that's beyond the point and worth a blog space of its own) and Little and Woman put together fit the bill of my perfect oxymoron. It was almost like Louisa May Alcott coined that title thinking of this small town teen in a remote Indian territory. The next few days kind of shaped up a good part of who I had to become in my grown years. The March sisters came to life in my little head, thanks to the craft of Miss Alcott, and just like that, I was introduced to a layered, holistic learning. Ironically, decades down the lane, I make a feeble attempt to pay a tribute to the role this book played in my life, not just as a literary masterpiece but as a lesson of life.
Josphine March became a larger than life idol for me. Even to this day, when I think of a woman with substance, I have faint traces of Jo March flash in my head. Yea, it was a falling in love beyond teen crushes. Jo was my bromance. My super hero and there's something each of the March sisters taught me.
When Beth passes on with scarlet fever, the pain I felt was palpable. It isn't just the loss of her that I felt, but I was just beside myself with awe at the craft of Alcott. I vividly remember transitioning into a new chapter and just like that Beth's passing was conveyed in the most subtlest of word choice. There wasn't a mention of the word death anywhere. I traced back and forth in total awe, beside myself with disbelief at the power of a written word in the 'show don't tell' glory. I can confidently say that it was at that instance that my ability to see the unseen and hear the unsaid took its roots. Talk about the influence of an author on someone.
I realize that I really didn't revisit the March sisters ever since but a part of them stayed in the whole of me, like a gift that kept giving along the years. As I type this, I fell amazed and blessed to have crossed paths with Alcott and to have made that 'not so coincidental' decision of choosing that red calico bound book titled in Gold lettering. I swear, something nudged me, reaching out of that book, drawing me in like a boon from the book heavens.
As I age, I freeze in awe at the network of orchestrated events in my life, like they were meant to be. It is numbing to realize that we all have our own road maps in place, in a seemingly chaotic world that looks as arbitrary as arbitrary can get. I sit here, feeling blessed than ever to have aged, to have read the little I read and retained the little I retained.
Nothing is a coincidence and being a part of this intricate, personalized web of the cosmic illusion is, if anything, a magic in itself.
To Lousia May Alcott - with overwhelming love. Thank you for touching my life, giving my thoughts a shape, giving my heart a dream and being one of the masters that unraveled life to me.
pic courtesy - Cover of Kindle Edition of 'Little Women' By Louisa May Alcott.
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