Books Books And Books

For RDP Friday : Books I have been given

In our community a book is supposed to be the bestest gift. On birthdays, festive occasions, celebrations, reunions with friends and family and even marriages books are gifted. Before I could figure who Santa was a book with a bright cover would be found mysteriously shoved under my pillow.  That’s how I was introduced to Shakespeare’s Tragedies and Comedies – abridged versions translated in Bengali. In school we exchanged the latest reads with each other in class. 

Since my father had a job which entailed touring  remote areas he always carried a book or bought one at the railway station. On his return, he would either pass it on to us or we’d sneak it out of his suitcase. I remember one such book was Easy To Kill by Agatha Christie. He was a big Christie fan. I believe, both me and my sister have inherited our obsession for Christie from him.

In my teens my elder sister played a big role in moulding my choice of  readings. She was a voracious reader and still is. She borrowed books extensively from local libraries. The books she found interesting and suitable (we have a difference of seven years) were handed down to me. However, she was a very fast reader while I was very slow. Often I couldn’t finish and it would be time to return the book. Since, late return meant payment of a fine I had to frequently give up books half read.

What I liked more was the discussion that ensued after reading a book. After finishing a book the family would gather round to talk about the best part of the story, the characters, the humour and even the poignancy which left us heavy hearted.

My paternal aunt (father’s sister), like my sister, was also a book lover. She was also the storyteller of the family. Whenever my father visited her in Kolkata he would carry back a gift from her – a new book!!

As life took over, receiving books as gifts became a rarity. My sister still brought books from her school library. But I was too taken up with a demanding job and reading took a back seat. The last few years in a department where as a routine I had to read volumes pushed personal reading to the backburner.

Yet there are two occasions which come to mind. I was once invited to talk about haiku to little kids who were students of drama skills. We had a lot of fun. The children were new to the genre but ended up writing their own versions of haiku. At the end of the session their mentor, who had invited me, offered me remuneration in the form of cash for my time and participation. Since I was working at that time I considered accepting money as unethical. So I declined. Had she substituted it with books I might not have been able to say no.

On another occasion, my haiku mentor had asked me and two of my co-haikists to helm a discourse on haiku arranged by a renowned NGO named Katha. It was a learning experience as I had two erudite scholars with me who were more knowledgeable on the subject than I was. The session ended with the organisers honouring us with souvenirs and yes, books. I was overjoyed. After a long, long time I was receiving a gift of books.

However, I was amused to note that both the books were English translations of famous authors – one Bengali the other Hindi – two languages in which I could read, write and speak fluently. 😆😆

Now that I have time to get back to my hobbies I give books to myself – books I never had time to read before or books which I can read over and over again.

I am participating in Blogchatter’s #WriteAPageADay Campaign