Skip to main content

SEE THE BOOK VALUE TO GENERATE THE ASSURED PROFIT


I developed a taste for words a little late. That happened only after faring poorly in the language and working on myself that I became an avid reader. 

We had preferences, so we amassed volumes in our homes. Some were those we had borrowed, the ones we forgot to return, others were second-hand or the new edition we either purchased or were gifted, and a few were even our professional textbooks. The pages had begun to crack, and a distinct moldy smell emanated. The once treasured books now occupied only space, and their regular maintenance was a menace.

After my father passed away, my mother offloaded our home from the clutter, and first in line of fire were the books. Those prized possessions came down from the first-floor balcony onto the floor. An unassuming raddiwallah collected our priceless belongings of years in his sack for a paltry amount.

My friend shared, advertising on Facebook, the free sale of her Encyclopedia Britannica after she became an empty nester. The story was that there was just one response. A girl came forward to collect. A month later, even she wanted to return it. That is the lost glory.

When my house was under renovation, I  faced the dilemma of letting go of my son’s possessions, their books. Armed with the experiences of others, I thought I would fare better,
so I asked people to see my shelves and take away whatever they needed. Many had found a new home. I am happy for them. Of what remained were the fictions, some scientific ones, and the ones I intentionally did not want to part with.

I wanted to find a suitable home for all, someplace where they would be valued just as much as we did, in a library. Alas! As fait accompli would have it, only the books in Hindi went to a small school in a village. Most remained unattended and uncared for despite my best efforts. They made it to the sack of raddiwallah as their last refuge.

Though I performed the last rites myself, I wanted them to be happy wherever they were. I knew very few people read books and even fewer read fiction. Those who read have a Kindle with them. A hardbound is different from an electronic one.

They are no longer on shelves in my house on the shelf of my mind. Those books will always be there. This is their value, their real Book Value.

Comments

  1. It's really very well written. Starting and end are superb.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Contemporary truth.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Very well written, I felt like it's my story

    ReplyDelete
  4. Actually the picture portrayed is black and white and very pathetic . The people now days have no interest in reading. It's always a pleasure to read your write up

    ReplyDelete
  5. very well written 👍
    I am very possessive bout my books ,and the thought of parting with them makes me nervous ..

    ReplyDelete
  6. Swati v well written I too hv many books thesis trophies which hz occupied 4 almirah but still I dont hv courage to part with

    ReplyDelete
  7. Though an avid reader I had to depart with some of my books when I shifted, so after reading your article I felt as if it's me who's going through this pain once again

    ReplyDelete
  8. Very well written👍

    ReplyDelete
  9. Very well written.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

WHATSAPP FORWARDS

"You will not read any of my WhatsApp messages and so it is useless to send you anything.” My mother said to me. I acknowledged her by my silence mentally reciting," I read all that you sent to me". So, here I am busy reading all about Indian spices and medicinal herbs used as daily household ingredients, thereby indulging in more studies on naturopathy as compared to any other ‘pathy’ which has side effects. I speed dialled my mother when my patient refused to undergo the procedure of scaling to clean her teeth in favour of 'alum', or "phitkari," a desi nuskha. No wonder patients shirk away from scaling. I ruminate. "I just called you up to confirm if you WhatsApped something to my patient "I vented. Ever since, I have been scrolling through all her erstwhile messages to know more about natural healthier medicaments, their benefits and roles in dentistry and health. Oh! WhatsApp was not there when I was a student. No wonder, my gold ...

THE FRUIT OF LABOR

Notification alerts continued one after the other and I knew it had to be my sister. Next morning her WhatsApp did not seem so interesting. Thank God! I never got up at midnight to see these. There were images of mud, plants and potatoes. Nothing new, I put it aside without a thought and sipped my early morning tea. As I read further, scrolling down the images was her excited note on her home grown organic potatoes. Now that was a bait I asked her "miraculous, since when have you started all this". "While composting for my garden I had accidentally left a potato in the garbage ditch. This was my discovery just today" she answered and I could imagine her admiring those potatoes. "Great guns," I responded. The matter rested after this for a few months. The feathers were ruffled again as she posted images of tomato, eggplants and potato plants neatly planted along the sidewalls, her today's endeavor .Thanks to our family group messaging system, ginger a...

The Night of the Rain

  It was one of those nights when the rain seemed determined to wash the whole town away. Sheets of water hammered against the windows, the roads were nearly deserted, and most people were asleep behind locked doors. My husband was resting lightly, as doctors often do when they know the doorbell might ring at any moment. Sometime past midnight, the bell rang. The emergency night staff called him downstairs. “Doctor, there’s a patient.” When he reached the entrance, he saw two young boys standing at the gate of the clinic porch. The smell of alcohol hung thick in the air. One of them was struggling to keep the other upright. The injured boy was slumped against him, barely conscious, his weight hanging heavily on his friend’s shoulder. “What happened?” my husband asked. The friend spoke with urgency. They had slipped from the motorbike. Even in that brief moment, my husband could tell the injury was serious. Head injury. Possible internal bleeding. It was the kind of case that needed...