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Books choose their readers


Every book is an individual. It has a life of its own. Like its creator it is a thinker. It is not the reader who chooses the book but it is the book that chooses the reader. And it knows its way. It would gladly spend days together waiting for its chosen reader. It would play the game of hide and seek with the buyers if the buyer is not of its choice. It may sojourn here or there but it knows where to settle forever. It knows where it will be loved and fondled, and above all treasured for posterity.

Every book in my study has a tale to tell and I distinctly remember every one of them, though a life time may not be sufficient to put all about them on paper. But as the saying goes, “A single ray speaks for the glory of the sun” the following incident which I would like to record is proof enough.

A few months ago, when I was rummaging among used books and magazines clumsily stacked in a pavement shop of the Sunday Market in Pondy, I hit upon a volume of Limericks. It was edited by G. Legman and published by Panther. I was sure of a volume like this in my study, but was not certain about the volume number. I hastily flipped open the book and found out that the work was published in two volumes. At first I hesitated, for I have on several occasions carried home second or even third copies of the same book already available in my collection. But on second thought, I was not prepared to lose a treasure and so wanted to give it the benefit of doubt. If it happened to be a second copy, then it would go to any book buying colleague. If a companion volume, then my study could boast of the best collection of Limericks.

The second volume of Limericks reached home along with the other books that decided to take shelter in my house.

And the first thing I did was to open the poetry cupboard and pull out the volume of Limericks that stood sandwiched between two books of study on Limericks by different authors. I jumped for joy. Yes, the spine of the book was displaying volume I. And when I sat down to open the title page of the second volume just to sign my name and date of purchase, I found the signature of its original owner. And I had to sign below it. Curiosity drove me to open the first volume to know if that too bore the signature of its original owner. A cold chill ran down my spine, for both the volumes were owned by the same man and purchased by him on the same day.

But this first volume had reached me fifteen years ago, as per the date I had registered on its title page, and remained companion less all these years.

And the widowed second volume must have been frantically searching for its last beloved. And now they are happy together and I am happier in their happiness.

P. Raja

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