For the love of books

This article in The Hindu got me reminiscing. It is very true that our literary world has come alive (or has been reborn) of late. When I left India in 2002, I wondered how I would continue any literary pursuit without the quintessential "culturals" of college days. What would happen to the crossword competitions and the word games? And what of the trivia quiz and the books-and-authors round in Dumb C?

Books played a significant role in my childhood and in the definition of my identity. My maternal grandfather, after retirement, ran a library. Needless to say, every weekend trip to visit my grandparents would result in me emptying half the library to take home. My mother would insist that I put some of the books back since, after all, the library would still be there next week. Returning home with an armful of books gives one a sense of contentment, a sated feeling that the next few days would be enriching. The pleasant task of picking which book to read first would be followed by non-stop reading, through meals (the family's ire notwithstanding) and through napless afternoons. I think my mother was mostly glad that if I was reading, I was not bothering her. The literary horizon later explanded to include The Hindu crossword, the Indian Express "Unscramble" and the myriad literary competitions in the intellectual city that Chennai can be.

Now, with the world of blogs and the literary explosion online, it is easier to find worthwhile books (for purchase or at the library). Reading about what other people read, or how they relate to books is a trifle sneaky, but satisfying peek into their literary world. It's not so bad after all.