Someone told me once that you can never grow as a person until you learn to leave your comfort zone behind.

I took up a friend's challenge recently: to read an Indian Chicklit book, cover to cover. It was painful and time-consuming, but I did it.

But why would I put myself through that? Because I've developed an intense hatred towards any kind of routine. Also, I realised that I tend to stagnate. The work of P.G.Wodehouse is my cul-de-sac, my convenience. I love it so much so that I forget to explore other writers/forms of writing. This tendency is exactly what made me see most of my life in black and white. I loved the colour black so much so that I forgot to explore beyond.

So just like I started choosing to let colour into my life, I also accepted the challenge.



And now, I like colours and still hate chicklit.





P.S: Anyone care to review The Lost Symbols for me?