The lost world of books

There was a time when going to the bookstore was a planned ritual. At the start of every vacation, an expedition to the largest bookstore in the city would be arranged by the parents. I would be let loose upon that jungle soon after the store commenced business for the day, and given free rein. At the end of hours of scouring, heart-wrenching choices and intense decision-making , I would settle upon my chosen pile.  And then the whole family lived happily for the course of my vacation. Such was the idyllic world of my schooldays.

For many years now, I haven't chanced upon a bookstore.  I have stepped into fancy superstores masquerading as bookstores. Stores  that hawk an assortment of music CDs, videogames and the ilk, while relegating the bookracks to an unobtrusive corner where they don't disturb the jazzed up sections that display the fancier stuff. There have been times when I walked into what once used to be a bookstore, and had to wade through displays of varieties of chocolate, computer peripherals and a zillion other things that have no business in a booklovers' paradise, before chancing upon the books themselves. I could have cried with relief when I found out that they hadn't done away with the books altogether!

And after all these years, I found a bookstore today. Yeah, I'm talking about a real 'book' store. One where you walk in, to be greeted by rack upon glorious rack of tomes. Tomes, waiting to be released from the rack, their heady 'new book' fragrance setting your brain tingling with anticipation of a long afternoon turning pages. Pages, that hold you in thrall, immerse you in their tale, such that the thought of looking up from your book never crosses your head. But, I digress!  I felt as though I was in a time warp, transported magically to the days when bookshops used to be just what they were supposed to be. A store such as this, untouched by the ravages of commercialization,   exuding an old world library-like charm, is rare in these days indeed.

Fellow bibliophiles, there is yet hope in these dark times!

In summary...

As a score and five, years I pass’d, life my own to design,

My footsteps, in the solitary sands, in my trail I did leave behind.

The sands upon my plains new would forever unchanged be

But my steps hereon, in life’s lands, shall no more solitary be…

Legends that live on...

It was the summer of 1990 or perhaps, 1991, when I delved into my older cousin's bookshelf and found my first colourful book of pictures. He would hold up the picture book as he read it, with the following page folded to my side. And I recall standing in front of him, reading the stories backwards, trying to keep pace with him as I attempted to make sense of the words in the little white balloons in each picture frame.

The years wore on, but the picture books stayed a part of my life...in stages, though. From reading along with my cousin, I started devouring (yes, that is the word) them in solitude on lazy afternoons perched on the cozy living room sofa. I would wait eagerly for my fortnightly installment; pouncing on my copy when I returned from school to find a small package addressed to "Baby Radhika"...in the process building a collection to rival my cousin's. And then, of course, the trips to Higginbothams to pick up the Tinkle Digests and innumerable Amar Chitra Katha books… all those afternoons huddled over a Birbal the Witty, Jataka Tales: Monkey Stories, Krishna, Valmiki or The Churning of the Ocean.

I chanced upon Uncle Pai's obituary in the papers today, and these memories came rushing back. I thought of the (atleast) two generations of Indian children who owe so much to this man.. For such a delightful and lasting initiation into Indian lore, and thereby the attendant values. For encapsulating tales of wisdom, wit and valour in such an easy-to-imbibe package. Quietly, this man had created a wealth of knowledge to engage and  inspire young minds… even as he passes on, his appropriately titled Amar Chitra Kathas (Immortal Picture Stories) will live with us. Will further generations of little Indians continue to love these stories as much as I did? I really, really hope they do.
Thank you, Uncle Pai