Have you ever thought of how sugar behaves in water? It completely dissolves in it till it leaves no trace, and yet, when it meets the buds, the sweet taste delights. Some books uplift you in a similar way. Once you revisit them, they seem to have left you, but when perceptions of the mind meet, that sweet taste is unmistakable.
To call “To Kill a Mockingbird” a gem of literature is nothing short of blasphemy. To look at it objectively is a sin in itself. It is so much more than that. It is a part of your life. It is magic. It is the sweetness in the seemingly clear water. It is an enchanting amalgamation of words and feelings and sighs and whispers. You can feel the book working up an aura, a subtle atmosphere, which holds your hand gently and guides you through the alley that is Scout’s world. Scout, who endears you with her purity and sweet knowing ignorance, who lets you see the world in an unbiased light. Atticus, who lets you know the actualities of the world in the most gentle way possible. The fact that an issue can be held in its own in this complex web of human emotions and vistas is nothing short of a miracle. A miracle which dazzles with its simplicity. With its innocence. With its chastity.
A mere mortal is not capable of stringing words to produce immortality. It takes not just will-power but also an astonishing grasp over mortal sentiments and instincts. One cannot create a character without stepping into his/her shoes and to do that, the character has to be indicted into the apparent reality. This character feels reality, the author makes it tangible to him/her. Harper Lee is the sorcerer here. The palpable touch of existence all characters exude is the work of her sheer brilliance and vision. Those words spellbind you, let you step in between the pages and roam the streets of Maycomb. The mockingbird lives on, not because it is a sin to kill a mockingbird, but because it can never die. :’)