Two to three weeks back, I read The Alchemist before I went to bed. It was required reading for a training at work. I had heard of the book before but had no idea of what it was about. I just wanted to be done reading so I could truthfully say I read it.

A chapter in, my interest was piqued. By the time I was half way through the book, I had to slow down. There were too many things coming fast and thick at me. Layers upon layers. I read certain lines and paragraphs a couple of times before moving on. Chewing on them and relating it back to my life.

I closed the book and could not go to sleep immediately. It is one of those books that one will either love or hate. I count myself amongst the fans. It reminded me of The Little Prince. I read that book in 2000 and it stayed with me. For years, I would go back to this:

“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”

Books like friends are for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I wonder what the Universe was conspiring when it had me read the book. Hmmm!