Lost in a mountain of books

Discover the joys of building a personal library, filled with cherished books and memories, in a digital age.

These days, it is neither fashionable nor feasible for families to have a library at home, except for keeping some coffee table books. Even those who like to read would rather watch videos on the books and authors, or read the e-book editions, which are cheaper and do not require space for storage in cupboards.

But there are still people, not necessarily of the older generation, who prefer to read paper editions of books and read them by turning pages and occasionally smelling their distinct aroma. Some of us not only read books but also have personal copies which are copiously marked for reference. Some of us also record meticulous notes on the margins or on the back pages of the book for various purposes, including writing articles. A recent bestseller could serve as an ice breaker or form the basis of an opening gambit when you meet a friend who is part of your coterie.

Over the years, I have collected a large number of books and after reading them, also distributed them by mini-truck loads; not to mention those that were borrowed and never returned. When living at places with no easy access to bookshops, I often joined book clubs which delivered one book every month, including classics as well as popular fiction. I have also occasionally gone berserk at railway stations and airports in search of something new which caught my attention.

Of course, I have borrowed books from libraries, taken notes and returned them. However, I had a sad experience in my university library whenever I went there to pick up a classic. Quite often I found the relevant pages either torn or cut out in those bad old days, before the popularisation of the photocopier. It made me realise that it would be better if I could have my own collection to the extent possible. I also borrowed books from the personal libraries of some of my professors, which was a better option.

But an early experience which kept me away from the library for a number of years I still cannot forget. I was in school then and my teacher, who considered me a good student, advised me to read a particular book by borrowing it from the library. I had never been to a library before that. I went and met the librarian and told him that I wanted a particular book. In a casual manner, which is peculiar to professionals, he told me to get the details of the book from the catalogue and pointed his finger towards a stack of shelves. With great trepidation, I reached that section at the back of the library. Initially I did not know what to do. After some opening and closing of drawers, I realised that there were cards with the names of authors and the titles of the books written thereon, arranged in some order. Still I was a bit confused about how to proceed.

I stood there looking this way and that when I found another student coming my way. I told him about my predicament. He was patient. He told me how to go about looking for the details of a particular book. After some difficulty, I located the accession card of the book I was looking for. With great joy, I pulled it out, tearing the perforated portion in the process, and came to the librarian and placed the card before him.

“This is the book I want,” I said with great elation. The librarian was aghast and looked at my face as if I was a creature from early part of the creation. He not only shouted at me for a long time for my misdemeanour in causing the devastation but also imposed a fine, to pay which I did not have enough cash. He said that it would be added to my school fees so that my father too came to know about what I had done. My father not only paid the fine but also bought me that book and other books which I might need, without batting an eyelid. And they proved to be the building blocks of my personal library in due course.