One Book At A Time

 

“This is it!”

I muttered as I stared with an open mouth at hundreds and hundreds of books piled up. Some, on top of each other and some, just beside each other.

For a guy hailing from Nishithpur, a small town in Bengal, coming to Kolkata is quite a big deal in itself. To be honest, I didn’t like the place when I first arrived at the Howrah Station. The city is crowded, dirty and very, very far away from nature.

I was even wondering how would I be able to adjust. My mind was generating double or triple thoughts about my parents’ decision of sending me to this ‘Babuder Sohor’ as my way of entering into the large world to which Nishithpur had no access.

But then, College Street happened!

The very sight of innumerable books co-existing was both unnerving and pleasing. From Geoffrey Chaucer to Chetan Bhagat, George Eliot to George Orwell; the place seemed to be a paradise for a bookworm like me.

As I started walking on the footpaths of North Kolkata, the late-December Kolkata sun soaked me in tender care. And the typical fragrance of a historical city graced me with its open arms. After running my eyes across the never-to-be-exhausted stock of books on the multiple bookshelves, I stopped by a stall.

I entered and picked up the book. As I ran my fingers and removed the thin layer of dust from the hardbound cover, I discovered the title of the book better - ‘Letters from Malgudi’.

I was overjoyed looking at the collection of the unpublished letters of my favourite author. I opened the book and my eyes closed themselves after the pages welcomed me with their musty smell.

“Hey! What are you up to?”

I shrieked and dropped the book down.

“Who . . . who are you? Where are you?” I uttered meekly, trying to figure out the source of the voice nearby.

“Down here, dude. Inside the book.”

I picked up the book and looked at the speaker. A small moth with golden and pink designs.

As I stared at the talking insect with the utmost surprise, the moth tore a bit of the page and started gobbling it up.

“Stop it immediately,” I blurted.

“What? Stop eating books?” the moth looked at me directly. “What do I eat then? You?”

“Where have you come from? Why are you eating the pages away?” I asked in a loud voice.

“Because I’m a bookworm,” smiled the moth as it munched on a childhood picture of my most admired author.

“Bookworms don’t eat books. They read books for knowledge.”

“Bloody hell! Knowledge, huh?” said the moth, biting off page number 26 of the book. “Go away and why do you even care?”

“I care because I’m a book lover. And anyone who loves books will tell you the same thing,” I tried to sound logical.

“Anyone?” the moth sneered. “Who’s this ‘anyone’? I don’t find ‘anyone’ loving books nowadays!”

“What do you mean? There are so many book lovers around the world!” I screamed. “This place . . . this very place where we’re standing right now is the largest book hub in the city.”

“Puff! Old stories and forgotten nostalgia,” said the moth, chewing peacefully Narayan’s letter to Graham Greene. “Now, go from here. I still have lots to eat. Such juicy pages, much wow!”

I saw greed in the moth’s eyes. An idea came to my mind.

If I shut the book with a bang, will the moth die inside?

Well, for a non-violent and peaceful person like me who can’t even annihilate ants, this was quite difficult. But, no. I tried to train my mind.

You need to do it. The future of ‘Letters from Malgudi’ lies in your hand. Go for it.

As I prepared myself for the impending battle, there was a sudden flash.

My eyes dazzled, my fingers became numb and my ears could only hear a buzzing sound that increased with every passing second.

As the glowing yellow light subsided a little, I saw a giant moth in front of me!

“Scared? Surprised?” the moth giggled as it flapped its wings.

“How . . . how are you . . . so big?” I struggled to speak looking at the bright halo that surrounded the huge insect.

“Weren’t you talking about loving books and stuff?” asked the moth, narrowing its eyes.

“Ah . . . yes, yes, I was,” I tried to sound as unintimidated as possible.

“Alright then, get on my back and I will show you how much people love books!” the moth said with a bit of sarcasm in its voice.

As if in a trance, I got up on the back of the immensely big insect and—

“Whoooooosh!”

As we flew, I looked down and saw a wide sea of heads walking up and down the entire area of College Street.

With pride on my face, I said, “See! Didn’t I tell you that booklovers exist?”

“Do they? How about a closer look?” the moth smiled as it flapped its wings and we moved closer to the surrounding shops.

I looked at the College Street crowd with expectations. If I can find even one book lover here, navigating through the pages of a book, my point would be backed with solid proof.

I observed closely enough but all I could see were human heads bowed down to look at their smartphones, human eyes scrolling down the glistening screens of the gadgets and human fingers typing messages at jet speed.

“What’s wrong with you all? This is a place for books, not phones!” I screamed only for my words to fall on deaf ears.

“Huh, no use,” said the moth as we slid into the book shop where we had first met.

“So, how was the experience?” the moth asked, lying down on a creaky, discoloured wooden chair inside the shop.

“I . . . I don’t know what to say. They don’t read books anymore,” I sounded devastated.

“Told you,” the moth winked. “No one reads books. So, no one sells them either.”

“No one sells them? Why? Won’t I get to buy this book?” I said, pointing to the ‘Letters from Malgudi’ in a ruined state.

“From whom? Do you see any sellers here? Shopkeepers? They’re all gone. Gone with the wind!”

“You seem to be quite well-learned,” I ended up teasing the moth.

“Hahahaha! You’ll be too only if you listen to me,” the moth said in a mysterious tone.

“Wh . . . what?”

“Don’t you wish to read more books? Gain more knowledge?” the moth looked at me with vicious eyes.

“Yes, yes . . . what do I need to do for that?”

“Come into my world. You can eat up a book in a day,” the moth said.

“Eat? You mean acquiring knowledge, right?” I asked for confirmation.

“Umm . . . yes, correct. A book of 50 pages every day — 15 pages for breakfast, 15 for lunch, and 10 each for snacks and dinner. Doesn’t that sound cool?”

“Yes . . . it does,” I scratched my head as I tried to calculate the number of books that I would be able to complete in a year.

“So, deal?” the moth extends its hand.

“Deal,” I smiled.

The next moment I found myself tearing the contents page of ‘Letters from Malgudi’. I gulped down the entire page, all at once.

“Nice,” I chuckled at the moth, savouring fully the taste of the stale and crisp papers inside my mouth.