
CELEBRATING WORLD BOOK DAY
Photo by Rahime Gu00fcl on PEXELS.COM
I don’t know whose idea it was to dedicate a special day for a special thing. This month has quite a few special days like May Day (1st May), Mothers’ Day ( 12th May), International Bee Day (20th May), Earth Day ( 22 May), Potato Day ( 3othe May ) and WORLD BOOK DAY which is today.
Reading has been my first love. If I don’t have a book, I find something to read like advertisements on billboards and bus stops. I read road signs, names of buildings as they pass by and even baggage tags while waiting at the airport. So I find it a bit strange that people need to have a ‘day’ to be aware of the joys of reading.
Changing tastes
Once upon a time ( like all good fairy tales begin), I loved fairy tales. I never found anything ‘wrong’ in the simple tales of the Brothers Grimm whose gory stories actually made young children aware of the evils that lurk in the world. They produced just the right amount of fear to make children aware of keeping an eye out for things.
I naturally progressed to the world of Enid Blyton and stories of the English countryside ( of which I had absolutely NO knowledge) and would imagine myself transported to a life filled with adventures, picnics, high tea, circus life, horses (e.g Jill’s Gymkhana) and the like.
Then I graduated to Agatha Christie and her detective stories, the world of science fiction and historical romances. I loved the old classics and actually enjoyed wallowing in the misery of the narrator who was almost always oppressed, depressed and unhappy. (David Copperfield, Jane Eyre being two that come to mind).
As a college student, I waited for the book shop to bring out huge tomes by authors like James Michener, Ayn Rand, Leon Uris and thrillers by Arthur Hailey, Robert Mitchum, Mary Higgins Clarke and Frederick Forsyth.
I also peppered these books with soppy romances that I was introduced to by a little old lady who used to visit my mother (who was spending three months in hospital after a horrific road accident) and often read these books while my mum was nodding off. These mind-numbing books were great for not only passing time but also vicariously transporting you to exotic places like Greece and Italy, where plain-Jane heroines tried to win the hearts of drop-dead, gorgeous but totally indifferent heroes. Mrs K ( the little old lady) also introduced me to the Regency romances of Georgette Heyer and the contemporary romances of Barbara Cartland.

As a young mum, I found solace in the stories of Erma Bombeck and the delightfully charming tales tales of veterinarian James Herriot.
Gradually, I started on non-fiction, particularly self-help books, and there was a time when two whole shelves, three books deep, consisted of this genre.
books everywhere
There was a time in my life when I could find a book everywhere in the house. By my bedside, in the bookshelf, on the sofa, near the chopping board and oftentimes even in the toilet because that was the only place I could find some peace and quiet,
That wasn’t surprising because I had two library memberships from which I could borrow three books at a time, would borrow books from friends, get books as gifts and even buy the books I wanted to read.
Eventually, a time came when the bookshelves were all full, the space on top of the cupboards equally full, so I had to make the painful decision of getting rid of some of them
In the first culling, I took a huge green tub and filled it up with books (particularly those with adult content since my little girl was following in my booksteps and walking around with her nose in a book), and asked all visitors to my home to pick up whatever they wanted. Believe it or not, NOT A SINGLE BOOK was picked up and I had no option but to sell all of them by the kilo as JUNK.
another culling
Several years later, when the girls had their own overgrown collection of books, I had to make space for more books. I once again made the heartbreaking decision of getting rid of the books that I hadn’t looked at in years. Now, there were literally a ton of books that I hadn’t touched for a while, except to dust them so they just had to go.
This time round, off went my trashy romances, the self-help books that obviously didn’t help, the fiction of the 70s and 80s and lots of magazines I’d collected like the Time Person of the Year, certain newspaper editions like the day Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated etc. But this time round, I sold them off to the used-book sellers that one finds on the pavement at Mumbai’s Flora Fountain. At least some of them would bring more joy to a reader rather than more money for the junk collector who actually wanted me to pay him to take away the books!

no More books!
Alas! Today of all days, I have to make known to the Universe that a few months back, when we renovated our home, I had the last and final culling of my books.
This time, however, I didn’t sell the books but packed them away in boxes and sent them off to be stored in our ‘Memory House’.
Unfortunately, I didn’t make a list of the books that are in the Memory House and will probably have to go down there and find out if any of my old favourites are still around.
Making space for the new
Since nature abhors a vacuum, the shelves are still full. New books have taken their place. From libraries, bookshops and friends.
The new authors reflect my changing taste in reading that has evolved to include Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Iranian and African authors. I have a good mix of historical novels, essays, non-fiction( biographies, corporate histories, cookbooks, spiritual thoughts) and of course, my staple diet of fiction.
A book is a book is a book
With the eternal problem of space to store books and time to read them, I am often tempted to switch to Kindle. The convenience of carrying books wherever and reading them whenever far outweighs the lightest paperback I almost always have in my bag.
But no.
For me, the joy of opening a book, smelling the paper, checking out the cover, and reading the blurb on the back far exceeds the experience of reading a virtual book.
And I hope I can enjoy the joy of reading a BOOK till the end of my days.
Happy reading !
Ciao



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