It was just after my Class 10
results were announced. I had succeeded in scoring fairly good grades. One my
uncles, generously, offered to buy me a book of my choice. Until then, my
reading comprised of Rowling, RKN, Dan Brown, a bit of Archer, a bit of Holmes,
a few titles in Kannada and of course, Chetan Bhagat! This was the time to take
a leap. Just out of school and about to enter college, this was the time to ‘broaden
my mind; broaden my horizons’. Or so I thought. And I leapt. I picked up
Tolstoy’s masterpiece “War & Peace”. My uncle believed me too much perhaps,
for he did not ask me to reconsider. With love, he signed the book and gifted
it. Until this day, it sits in the bookshelf, waiting to be read! (To be fair,
I did read it or attempt reading it, rather, until I realized that I had bitten
off more than I could chew.)
Once every year, I make it a
point to clean and reorganize the bookshelf back home. If my brother is around,
he offers to help. More often than not, I prefer to do it myself. That entire
exercise is a personal “we-time” – just me and the books. It is my chance to
reread a few lines from a book that I had read long back. It is not just the
story which flashes across the mind. An entire chain of memories about the book
is triggered. I still have the book given to me by my teacher way back in
kindergarten. Looking at that reminds me of school where the habit of reading
developed. Every time I read Harry Potter, I am reminded of how my brother used
to give me one title per year, until I realized that he was making a fool of me
and took control (‘rebelled’ rather!). To reread a book is to look into the
past through those pages. It is as though a part of my soul resides within the
book, frozen in time. (A horcrux, perhaps!)
A lot of my friends have tried to
impress upon me the fact that the world is moving ahead and hardcopies of books
are a thing of the past. The future belongs to the Kindle, they say. I have
never been able to get my head around that argument. There is merit in their
argument, I do not deny. Kindle is much easier to carry. It is inexpensive. You
have all the books you need at your fingertips. You can read them whenever and
wherever you like. I agree. Yet, for me, none of this can surpass the ‘feel’ of
a book. No Kindle can give you the feeling a book does when you sleep on a lazy
afternoon with a half-read book across your chest. You cannot sign a book on
Kindle and gift it to someone, can you? If books were that easily accessible,
where would be the eagerness and curiosity in searching for a title at a
bookstore or waiting for the book after ordering it online? I realize that I am
romanticizing much. But then, a book is not just a book. It is there to become
part of the reader and waiting to make the reader a part of itself, isn’t it?
At the end of every session of
rearranging the books, I realize that an overwhelming number of books we have
are waiting to be read – some purchased at a whim, some simply because it is a “collector’s
item”. “Every book we have not read has a key to better understanding of
ourselves. It shall help us appreciate life better. We are not doing justice to
the author by buying this book and allowing it to gather dust!” I tell myself.
Guilt washes over me. Along with my brother, I resolve that until we have read
all those titles, we shall not be buying another book.
Whenever I go to a book fair, I
mentally prepare myself to not buy any books – to stick to my resolve. “I am
going there just to explore. Just to look at the people, the books and soak in
the ambiance” I tell myself. One step into one of the stalls, my resolve begins
to weaken. At the sight of the assortment of titles, it crumbles. The ‘feel’ of
the book and the smell of those freshly printed pages defeat me! I come back buying
at least a couple of books. When I am questioned about my resolve, I do not
answer. I display the titles, hoping that they justify themselves and grin
sheepishly!
