What pulled me to Delhi Book Fair this year
I’ll give it you straight. You’re a tease. Sprawled across the floor, hidden behind shelves you make a good show of hiding. But I’ll find you. That’s my job. It’s not too hard. You’re anyway a walking advertisement with those enticing titles: Pick up a girl in 30 days; I get close, you get closer and Queer Erotica all of these show just what kind of being you are. But it’s my job to deal with the likes of you. I pick you up and nod to the waiting man who’s already got his hands outstretched for the money. Behind me the middle-aged school teacher does the same.
Welcome to the Delhi Book Fair (DBF). Yes that’s what they call it. Teachers, schoolgirls with pigtails pick up Panchatantra tales, an elderly woman scours for Samson – the biblical character not her boyfriend – and giggly girls and boys hunt for everything else. “Where’s William Dalrymple?” shouts a student to her comrade-in-arms who’s already weighed down by carrying countless Mills and Boon – the no-positions-barred series. Clearly, college education has improved since I graduated.
But enough of that. I’m here to find you. Yes – you know who you are. The "perfect book", the unique first or out of print edition that the man has dumped in the "For Rs 50 or Rs 100 only" section. I know it will not be easy, I’ll have to fight for you, for you know how to hide yourself beneath the Danielle Steels; the Sidney Sheldons and the Jackie Collinses; yes you have hidden yourself very well. But I am prepared. Elbowing my fellow hunters aside – the days at the gym have paid off – I rummage through the literary rubble to find you.
People are asking me. Why am I here? Why am I hunting for? The "perfect book" isn’t here. Why? Well first, because the big boys don’t want to play. That’s right. The big literary boys – Penguin Random House, Harper Collins, Rupa have chosen to stay away from the DBF. Apparently, if the media is to be believed – and that’s a big if – they say the DBF isn’t big enough for them. They’ll be there at the World Book Fair (WBF).
That’s enough reason for many of you to drop out. "The perfect book simply cannot be found, Poirot. Give up this mad goose chase," you say. But, I request you all to exercise your little grey cells and attend. Books are books. Whether in a junkyard, in someone’s home, in a second hand shop, or lurking beneath your Maths textbook, they are there to seduce, be picked up, and taken home to read. Whether it’s on a big platform like the WBF or a smaller one like the DBF, they will be waiting.
This holds true for the DBF. For the nostalgic, I found Archie albeit with a darkish twist. For fans, who freaked out over the death of Superman, and the death of Robin; here was another comic character for them and us, to mourn. Aptly titled The Death of Archie the storyline was a surprisingly violent one for a boy who had showed us the sunny side of life for decades. It was truly, as Don Henley had crooned, “The End of the Innocence”. Post 9/11 and the Mumbai attack, Archie and some of his ideals had to die. The world had become too dark for a group of teenagers to hang together drinking sodas.
Moving from the dark to the absurd, I uncovered titles such as Afterlife with Archie whose plotline is too bizarre to bother with. So are other titles such as How to Develop Your Horse’s Intelligence and Jaal – the first book in a trilogy called Kaal. These are word-to-word titles and despite their enticement to those with ahem... different tastes... they were still unbought till Wednesday. Big surprise! I discovered key rings looking like Cola cans on which if you pull, they transform into pens. I discovered three-dimensional puzzles and the graphic artist/illustrator’s dream - the perfect pencil or rather the perfect range of pencils. All of these for a measly price of Rs 20, which is, by the way, the entrance fee for the DBF.
It wasn’t just books one had to look at. Students were huddled in corners, sitting a little too close to each other for the school teacher’s comfort (she scurried her little band of school children past them), drinking coffee and whispering in each other’s ears. Parks, clearly, would be empty for this week. Yes, romance was flowering and the DH Lawrence, Shelley, and the other great classic writers whose titles were everywhere, would clearly have approved. Had Lawrence been around, he may even have added a teacher and a farmhouse for good measure, and we would have had the Indian version of Lady Chatterley's Lover.
It was not just love blooming, it was camaraderie. For a hardened hack it was beautiful to see faiths bonding. Two bookstalls: the Ahmadiya Muslim Jamaat and the Madhur Sandesh Sangam – a trust which publishes books on Islam were busy fielding questions from various people. Many of them got into theological discussions, none of which turned unruly. What was even more touching to see was an elderly man – his appearance and dress seemed that of a sadhu – who was listening intently to what these men had to say. In the end, he picked up a copy of the Quran and Gita and said "God lies in here". There was no fitting and better way to pay tribute to what we all love – books.