The other day a friend asked me if I wanted to go with her to a book fair. I agreed immediately. It is no secret: I love books! Though in recent times most all of my book buying has been confined to Kindle, and I myself had no intention as such of buying any books, the mere prospect of spending an evening browsing through paper books had me all excited.

That was how I found myself at the Chandrasekharan Nair stadium on the last day of the DC Books Mega Book Fair.

Once there, my friend who was armed with a list, got busy looking for the books she wanted. As for me I wandered among the rows, picking up a book here, another there, reading the blurbs on the back covers, remembering, reliving memories of yesteryears. You see, once upon a time, as an almost-teenager, I was an avid reader of Malayalam novels and short stories.

In the present though, I am more comfortable reading in English. It is no surprise then that when I came upon the row with English books, I slowed down. All the familiar authors were there. Oooh, I’ll buy this one!’ I told myself excitedly. ‘Or that one maybe? Or both. Maybe that one too, and that one. No the other one. Or all three. No four. Do I have place for five books?’ The struggle was real. ‘No. Nyet. Nah! Space was at premium at my home. No more buying of books! I’d read books on Kindle!’ I told myself sternly. Anyway it is not as if I am the holier than thou kind who looks down on digital books or those who read them.

Meanwhile, the smell of paper was drawing me in and making me giddy with pleasure. Oh well. No harm in buying one. After all the primary purpose of coming to a book fair is to buy books not just look at them. Sigh. The struggle between the practical me and the drunk-on-paper-smell me was still on and the latter was winning.

The next step was to choose a book. Just one. I walked up and down, checked out all the rows. This? That? The other? English? Malayalam? Finally the decision was made. I settled on an English translation of a Malayalam book. Selected fiction of O.V.Vijayan, someone whom I had always wanted to read. The translator was the author himself. The book contained three of his novels and some stories as well. I would be buying one book, but it was as good as getting four. Smart move, huh? I had cleverly sidestepped my own decision.

Back home from my jaunt, I went straight to the L&M’s study, flung my bag on the bed and started telling him all about my evening. Once I finished giving him even the minutest bits, I lay back on the bed, exhausted, but happy and contented. I turned slightly to one side to a more comfortable position and there it lay, staring me in the face. I stared open-mouthed . No, it couldn’t be. I surely was seeing things!’ But THE THING remained, staring right back at me.

I jumped up from my prone position forgetting my bad back. I pointed a quivering finger at the object resting on the foot of the bed at the other end.

“Where did that come from?” I yelped.

“This one?” The L&M picked up the book. “I borrowed it from your sister’s house when we had gone over a month or so back.”

“What?!! No way!”

“Yes. You even asked me if I was really going to read it.”

“What?!! No way!”

If I had been him this was about the time I would have asked ‘me’ to stop sounding like a bally parrot. But since he was not me, and doesn’t read Wodehouse either, he merely asked what had me all worked up.

“This is the book I bought. This very SAME BOOK!”

“What?!! No way!” He said mimicking me. Unlike me though, he was guffawing.

I was crestfallen. So many books to choose from at the fair and I had to buy one which was already in my house albeit unbeknownst to me. Oh well. Two of a good thing is better than one, right? 😉

©Shail Mohan 2023

FOWC: Primary