Les Miserables

This is from chapter 04, titled 'A heart beneath a stone' from Les Miserables. I first read a translated version in Marathi when I was 14. Those were summer holidays, and I had been pestering my Dad to take me book shopping. He was very busy during those days and now that I remember my adamant and angry behaviour I realise what a tough time I gave him. One sunday afternoon, he took me to a travelling book exhibition, and we spent the entire day by ourselves picking up books, making a list of authors and publishers, reading aloud excerpts.That was when he suggested me to read the translated version of Les Miserables in marathi; I read very little literature in hindi and marathi back then. I took to reading Les Miserables immediately after arriving home. Finished it late at night, and while I thought of the pool of sadness it pushed me unto, it got me thinking about human suffering and sorrow. Many years later, during a monsoon stroll through Flora Fountain after college hours, I spotted Les Miserables in English, with a tattered cover and damp corners. While reading on the train, my tears wouldn't stop and I shivered and sobbed uncontrollably until somebody asked me what was wrong. I couldn't even answer that question and mumbled something. When my mother saw my appearance after arriving home, she knew it was the book; my younger sister laughed and labelled me an idiot, and my Dad, well, he went through the book. Some of my most stark and grim memories lie with Les Miserables.
I saw the musical also, a few years ago, and the opulence and misery again made me cry through the soul. The anguish and pain that I have experienced over the years while reading Les Miserables has a significant importance in my life. Perhaps, I can say, I know somebody who has gone through Fantine's suffering and I can never forget nor attempt to ignore the callous animal that resides within all of us.