Moving from India to New York City at five years old, I felt desperate to draw parallels between my two drastically opposite worlds. The difference in weather, language, and people left me feeling alienated. I distinctly remember having a heated argument with my mom on the morning of my first day of kindergarten—amidst the quiet of our one-bedroom apartment. She insisted I wear a traditional Tibetan chupa for my first day, and I resisted with teary eyes and snot in my nose. I fought hard, but lost the battle and went to school in my bright red chupa, consumed by the fear that the struggle of fitting in might be a permanent part of my reality.
The remainder of the school day remained a blur as I withdrew into silence. When my mom picked me up and noticed my unusual gloominess, she whisked me off to the nearby Queens library. She knew that the library would remind me of our days in India when she’d take me to the hotel and I’d sit in the lobby while she worked, immersing myself in comics, prayer books, and fragmented pages from worn-out volumes. Stepping into this library, I felt a rush of excitement and determination to read every single book inside. I immediately made a library card and checked out a Junie B. Jones book, an Archie comic, Knuffle Bunny, and a hard copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince for my sister. We stayed there till closing, leaving with books in hand, smiles on our faces, and a shared eagerness for our new life in America. From then on, the library became my haven; every spare moment and playdates were spent nestled among the bookshelves.
I’d plow through a book practically every day, until it reached a tipping point where my family pleaded for my presence away from the pages. By the time I entered fifth grade, my mom bought me a Kindle and glasses to prevent me from staying up all night and reading books with my reading lamp. Once I had my Kindle, paperbacks became a relic of my past. Come seventh grade, my Kindle was replaced by an iPhone 5C, and I would spend my days reading Wattpad stories. During that time, my love for reading grew into a passion for writing, and my English grades would be the highest in my report cards. My family urged me to ditch the “fake books” on my phone and reminded me of the days I buried myself in real books. When I started high school, I downloaded every social media app, leaving behind my Wattpad stories and e-books. My family’s constant concern persisted—they believed in my potential for greatness, recalling the days when I was consumed by books. I was always a stubborn kid, so any form of criticism, I reacted with rebellion. I began neglecting books and my education on purpose, to show them that I could be great without it. Soon enough, anytime I was assigned a book for class, it felt like a chore and I would SparkNotes my way out. Post-COVID in college, I felt like I was at my lowest. I faced the harsh truth that my low attention span and grades stemmed from my negligence over the years. With an open mind and wide eyes, I found a newfound respect for books and reading. I decided that it’s never too late to start again and time will pass anyways. I began my new journey with self-help books such as Atomic Habits and Ikigai and rediscovered the power of words.
I used to be the kind of person that watched movies over books and spoilt endings before beginning anything. However, reading taught me patience, urging me to savor each and every word before flipping to a new page. Embracing reading as a regular practice inspired me to write book reviews and eventually led me to start journaling my thoughts and feelings. This is what pulled me out from a depressive cycle and instilled discipline and motivation in my life. For me, reading transcends a mere hobby; it’s a habit that provides stability, brainpower, and enhances your comprehension skills and attention span/memory. It’s overall essential to a healthy lifestyle, and it’s never too late to begin!
About the author This reading reflection is by Tenzin Tsephel.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
