Hello everyone, in today's blog, I will discuss my understanding of the question "What is literature?", "How literature shaped me?" and my metaphor for literature. This blog is written as part of a task assigned by Prof. Dilip Barad.
There’s something about literature that has always made me pause and wonder. Is it just stories and poems, words woven together beautifully? Or is it something more? Every time I open a book, it feels like stepping into someone else’s mind hearing voices from the past, walking through worlds I’ve never seen, and feeling emotions, I didn’t know I could understand. Literature isn’t just ink on paper; it’s the way those words stir something inside us, challenge us, and sometimes even change the way we see the world.
To me, literature is the heartbeat of human experience. It’s the mirror that reflects who we are and the window that lets us see beyond ourselves. It carries history, philosophy, and emotion, capturing what it truly means to be human. Matthew Arnold called it "a criticism of life," and I think he was right. Whether it’s the existential dilemmas in Hamlet or Orwell’s unsettling vision in 1984, literature forces us to look at society to see both its beauty and its flaws, to ask difficult questions and sometimes find uncomfortable truths.
But literature isn’t just about society. It’s personal. It’s about those moments when a book speaks to you in ways nothing else can. I still remember the first time I read Kafka’s The Metamorphosis that strange sense of recognition in Gregor Samsa’s alienation, like the book understood something about me before I even did. Or how, while wandering through Dickens’ Victorian London, I could almost hear the echo of footsteps on cobblestone streets, feel the weight of history pressing in. Borges once wrote, "I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library." I know exactly what he meant because every book feels like a doorway, a chance to live another life, to see through different eyes.
And then there’s the way literature helps us make sense of chaos. Life can feel absurd sometimes, like pushing a rock up a hill only to watch it roll back down just like Sisyphus. Camus explored that absurdity, but he also found meaning in it. T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land captures the disconnection of modern life, yet buried in all that fragmentation, there’s still a whisper of hope. Literature doesn’t promise easy answers, but it asks the questions that stay with us, the ones that linger long after we’ve turned the last page.
So, what is literature? To me, it’s more than just words. It’s a rebellion against silence. It’s a way of understanding the world and understanding ourselves. It’s the voices of the past whispering to the present, reminding us that we are not alone. And maybe, at its core, literature is simply proof that we were here that we felt, we thought, we dreamed.
Literature as a "Theater of Thoughts":
Sometimes, when I open a book, it feels less like reading and more like stepping into a grand, dimly lit theater. The heavy red curtains part, the stage is set, and suddenly, I am no longer just myself I am a traveler, a witness, a silent participant in a world woven from words.
This is why I think of literature as a Theater of Thoughts. Every book, every poem, every story is like a performance unfolding before me, each one carrying emotions, ideas, and truths that resonate long after the final act. Just as actors breathe life into characters, authors infuse pages with passion, making us laugh, cry, and question.
There have been moments when reading felt like a thrilling adventure like when I first lost myself in an epic tale, feeling the rush of battle and the weight of destiny alongside the protagonist. Other times, a book has felt like an intimate confession, as if the writer had reached into my own soul and put words to emotions I hadn’t yet named. And then, there are those rare books that feel like poetry set to music where every sentence flows like a melody, making me pause just to savor the beauty of language itself.
But this theater is more than just a place of entertainment. It is a space where I have learned the most about myself and the world. Through stories, I have understood perspectives I had never considered, walked in shoes that were not mine, and confronted realities that felt distant but were, in truth, deeply connected to my own. Salman Rushdie once said, “A poet’s work is to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it from going to sleep.” That is exactly what literature does it wakes us up.
And perhaps, most importantly, this Theater of Thoughts reminds me that I am not alone. In the pages of books, I have found kindred spirits characters who share my fears, my hopes, my questions. I have felt the silent but profound comfort of knowing that across time and space, someone else has thought and felt the same things I do.
So, for me, literature is not just an act of reading. It is stepping into a timeless, boundless performance a lifelong journey through the magic of the Theater of Thoughts.
I still remember the first day of my bachelor's in English Literature at Kutch University, Bhuj. Coming from a Gujarati-medium school, stepping into an English-speaking academic world felt like entering an entirely different universe. The transition was overwhelming. I often wondered if I had made the right choice. But in those moments of struggle, literature became my refuge, my guide, and, in many ways, my savior.
Even before university, my love for English had already taken root. During my school days, English was my favorite subject. Though we studied it as just another subject, I was drawn to its rhythm, its possibilities. But my knowledge was basic, and I longed to explore more. That passion led me to choose English Literature for my higher education, even though it meant stepping out of my comfort zone.
My bachelor's journey was far from easy. The COVID-19 pandemic added another layer of difficulty. Being far from home, living in hostels and PGs, and adjusting to online classes all of it felt like a storm I wasn’t prepared for. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, books became my anchor. While the world outside felt unpredictable, literature provided me with stability. I found solace in stories, courage in poetry, and wisdom in essays. Books were not just a means of improving my English; they became the medicine that healed my fears and helped me navigate the new academic world I had entered.
One of the first books that truly impacted me was George Orwell’s 1984. The dystopian world of Big Brother and constant surveillance made me realize that literature isn’t just about stories it’s about questioning the world around us. Orwell once wrote,
"The best books... are those that tell you what you know already."
His words resonated with me. The novel echoed my own fears of being controlled by circumstances, yet it also showed me the power of resistance and intellectual freedom.
As I delved deeper into literature, I encountered the poetry of Emily Dickinson. Her words, "I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose," felt deeply personal. I realized that my struggle with English wasn’t a barrier but an opportunity a possibility to explore a vast new world. Dickinson’s poetry made me understand that learning a language is not just about grammar and vocabulary but about finding a new way to express myself.
This realization deepened when I read Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things. Her lyrical prose and deep emotional connections between characters fascinated me. It was through her writing that I truly understood that English isn’t just a subject it’s an art. "The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again," she wrote, and I understood why literature feels so powerful it makes us want to return to its embrace, again and again.
My journey with literature wasn’t just about inspiration it was also about self-reflection. Shakespeare’s Hamlet left a deep impact on me, especially the famous soliloquy: "To be or not to be, that is the question." Like Hamlet, I, too, had moments of doubt whether I would ever be able to master this new world of English literature. But his internal struggle made me realize that questioning and doubting are parts of growth. Literature, in this way, did not just teach me English it taught me resilience.
At the same time, Indian literature played a crucial role in shaping my understanding of identity, culture, and language. Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali provided me with spiritual depth. His line, "Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high," became my silent prayer whenever I felt intimidated by the challenges of studying in English.
R.K. Narayan’s Malgudi Days gave me a glimpse into simple yet profound human emotions. His storytelling reminded me of home, of the small joys and struggles of everyday life. Similarly, Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children fascinated me with its blend of history and magical realism. The way he played with language, mixing English with Hindi and Urdu, made me realize that literature does not belong to just one language it is fluid and evolving. His words, "Language is courage: the ability to conceive a thought, to speak it, and by doing so to make it true," resonated deeply with my struggle of transitioning from Gujarati to English.
Even as I embraced English literature, Gujarati literature remained close to my heart. Reading Pannalal Patel’s Manvi Ni Bhavai reminded me of the resilience of rural Gujarat. The lines "જીવન એ ચરખું છે, જે હંમેશા ફરતું રહે છે" (Life is like a spinning wheel; it never stops) gave me the strength to keep going. Govardhanram Tripathi’s Saraswatichandra reinforced that literature is a bridge between the past and the present, between different languages and cultures.
Reading was not just an academic necessity; it became a personal journey. Each book I read was like a mentor guiding me, helping me improve my skills and confidence. Over time, what once seemed like a struggle became a source of joy, curiosity, and endless exploration.
Today, as a master's student in English Literature, I look back and realize how far I have come. Literature did not just help me academically it shaped my perspective, strengthened my resilience, and gave me a voice in a language I once feared. Toni Morrison once said,
"If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it."
And that is what literature has done for me it has inspired me to write my own story, to embrace my struggles, and to turn them into strength.
Literature is not just words on a page. It is an experience, a journey, a transformation. And for me, it has been the bridge that connected my past to my present, my fears to my dreams, and my language struggles to my love for stories. It taught me that no matter where we come from, words have the power to heal, to empower, and to shape who we become.
