As a kid I always saw my grandmother with a book in her hand. I still have childhood flashes of her reading right after she’d finished her daily chores or when she’d been waiting on the milk to come to a boil or during a TV soap commercial or in her leisure hours. And the bond astounded me, ridiculed me to an extent that it made me covetous .Thoughts about how an inanimate object, so unpretentious, and purely textual with absolutely no imagery is such an inseparable part of her life, drove me crazy. When asked she’d say “Let me tell you a secret? There will be times in your life when your friends will not want to play with you, not want to spend time with you, but a book will never say no! It is your true friend forever!”
Then, inadvertently, could be legacy or a numinous force or one of those enforced summer vacation obsessions, but I fell in love! It got me too, just like my grandma, it enthralled me. Then there was no turning back. I loved everything about books! I loved their texture, I loved to hold a book in my hand, it was real, and it was my companion. Every time I got my hands on a book I would open it, run my fingers over the pages slowly feeling that smooth yet faint imaginary embossment of writings and then smell it... the new ones smelt of glue and factories and cleanliness and I loved rubbing them against my cheeks as they felt baby like and oh so vulnerable. And the old ones smelt of grass, of sawdust, of forests and woods. And they had so much more to tell than just the original imprint, they had ages, they echoed stories of people through those ages. And the overall experience was time-travel like.
Even as I grew, nothing changed. At times my bibliophile-self had sporadic fits of bibliomania, which was thankfully controlled by coursework, extracurricular activities and mom enforced budget radar and then there was a phase of abibliophobia, where I read only a certain number of pages a week to conserve the treasure just like I ate a small piece of Cadbury’s Dairymilk chocolate over 5 days. But it was all worth it, a fantastic experience.
But now, what breaks my heart is the daunting possibility of my grandchildren or the generations to come not being able to experience this divine association with real books. With e-books being readily available, portable and convenient to store, it is probably going to be the only way books will be published a few years down the line. And being a self-proclaimed nature lover and eco-system protector I agree it is in best interest of the mankind to save trees. But if the 8 year old selfish me were to dictate the ways of the world, I would issue a ban on using tissues or paper napkins or paper stationary or mail or any other paper item right now and plant one extra tree for each book only to be able to continue my relationship with this pure, eternal, benevolent and loyal soul-mate of mine till the age of 70.
