Friday, July 20, 2012

Aryavarta and Ancient Alien Toys

So does any one else have that one story that's been stuck with them even if it has been years since they've first learned of it? That's a rhetorical question, of course we all have at least one. If not, you're probably a cold, unfeeling machine.

Personally, I have several of them, although I want to talk about a particular one for this post: The Immortal Toys. This is a Jeff Hawke story and is an interesting take on the ancient astronaut theory and the legend of Prometheus.

For those unfamiliar with Jeff Hawke, do not fret. It's a relatively obscure (at least in English speaking countries) British science fiction comic series in a similar vein to the more famous Dan Dare. Written in the Fifties and Sixties, I think the ideas the creators presented were pretty advanced for the time yet they retain the signature retrofuturistic appeal of that era that I'm such a sucker for. Unfortunately, I have long since lost the book, although I'm looking forward to securing another copy sometime.

Anyway, The Immortal Toys is solely responsible for introducing me to a highly distorted but very interesting view of India, albeit from the eyes of colonial Britain. It was probably the first story that introduced the concept of 'further reading' to me. I fondly remember looking for related material soon after reading it such as the history between Britain and India. I also remember looking for books about Indian culture and mythology as well as books on the field of archaeology, which at the time I have not yet distinguished from tomb raiding. As a kid, I honestly thought that going there would automatically be an adventure in similar fashion to what Indiana Jones goes through.

I will probably never admit to most people I know personally that there's a small part of me that wants to visit India for the above reasons. I guess it's the inner child who wants to check if the stories from his youth are true. Reality states that I would be sorely disappointed, but still there's that false hope I can't seem to shake off.

I often wonder if other people still retain this curiosity when they grow older. I often wonder if my affinity to reading fiction is just my own way of keeping the fire burning. I often wonder if other people who seem to be bitter with their lives have lost this fire.

Hopefully, the day never comes that I'll question if I've burned out my stock of curiosity. It would be such a waste to live the rest of one's days as a husk.

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