Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved reading. The joy of getting lost in a story, waiting to see how a fictional character’s life unfolds and keeping myself from flipping to the last page right at the beginning – this is what made up my childhood, and frankly, even today is the favourite part about my weekends. 

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But, with dating apps, streaming platforms, and ‘candy crush‘ sagas, whiling away time on a device became easier than carrying my books everywhere. 

And thus I cheated on my favourite fictional character with a real-life, abysmal, date. I replaced my travel reads with downloads of my favourite episodes instead.  And I hated it. 


Because reading was never a chore for me. It was, and still is, one of my most favourite things to do in the world. Which is why, when I got gifted a Kindle, I snatched it up and decided to revive my first love. 

Because with Kindle, I have access to over a thousand books in one go. I don’t have to hunt bookstores for the latest release, or the obscure old novel someone recommended. 


Also, when I used to carry books, I’d easily be lugging around 10 books, at least – my new book, my favourite novels I may just want to re-read, a light-hearted piece in case I just want to browse, a serious novel I’ve been meaning to read forever, etc. etc. 

With Kindle, I can download a thousand books, and still have space in my travel handbag for essentials – like my flight tickets and passport. 

And most importantly, I no longer have to ‘lend’ a book and then forever live with the pain of not knowing if it will ever be returned?

And when (not ‘if’, never ‘if’) a part of my soul, aka my book, comes back, what condition will it be in?

*Oh, the nights I spent lying awake with these thoughts!*

But, after almost a year of falling in love with Kindle (and contemplating about being their official brand ambassador), I am doubting myself. 

Because every time I download a new book on Kindle, I feel like I am cheating on my physical books. 


Every time that I open a new book, the only thing I can sniff on is the device’s metallic scent. And I miss the new book smell like an addict misses their drug of choice. 


Every time I pause in the middle of a novel, there is no bookmark to hold the place. And so, all my quirky, memorable, souvenir bookmarks now decorate my office table. 


Every time I fall a little in love with a fictional character, I don’t have a book to hug close to my heart. (Don’t judge). All I have is a slender, sleek device – and it just does not give me the feel like a bulky, old book does. 


Simply put, I’ve been having an affair with Kindle for over a year, but now my bibliophilic heart can’t take it anymore. 

No, of course, I am not giving up my Kindle. I am emotional, but not a fool… yet! But I am going to dust that old bookshelf, pick up the one paperback I bought but never read (I know, I know, already judging myself), and curl up in my house’s favourite corner. 


Because, just like an affair, a Kindle may be easy, convenient, and definitely exciting, but paperbacks and hardbacks and threadbare novels were, and always will be, my first love(s).