Should I start with the line- ‘I am sorry, I don’t lend my books’?
*my alter ego gives me dark looks*. No sorry at all! I have an absolutely
unapologetic smirk about this rule. I would not want to lend even my
bookmarks (if I ever have one, I usually use paper clips, id card strings, hair
pins, cookie packets, bridges, rivers, galaxies, stars for bookmarks… My
bookmarks never see the pages of any book after their first one. I chew/crush/tear them while reading a gripping tale
or a philosophical rhapsody).
I was a reckless, impulsive, kind lender until I realized
people don’t follow the 3Rs that I have set as my book lending rule, which in
order of priority are- Return, Respect and Read.
People move to other cities and If I ask them to walk up to
a courier shop and send my book they are almost tempted to say-‘yaar meri mummy
jaane nahi dengi’ (translation: My mom won’t allow me to go.. and why?- let her know that chicken has to cross the road *giggling*). People break friendship
with you and throw your books in front of their cats to chew on. They know
exactly how to hurt me! No sign of the blameless book after that. They even
re-lend it to somebody in the office, who lends it to his nephew, from his
hands it gets snatched by his girlfriend, who forgets it in the school canteen
and the book gets passed on to the man behind the counter; thus the epilogue,
credits, preface, prologue server their last days as plates for samosas whereas
the luckless cover page may land up in bonfire or equally worse… in stove fire.
And then there are people who are normal and nice but turn into amnesiac blobs
of flesh when you lend them books- the forgetful ones. Sigh! That is a brutal
sketch of how my books are separated or killed in terrorist activities.
If by the grace of God, I do get my book back but not in the
condition I gave it , then tremors pass down my spine, my head is inflamed, my
feet go cold, my palms involuntarily go into fist mode and my teeth clench
while my face is still trying to show cuteness at the sight of my friend. You
may shower with your books, stuff them in your aloo parantha, or sail them
across the Thames but my books are NOT to be treated like that. I wish I could
get your attention by putting that in red, bold, underlined and flashy style.
When I complain about the vandalism people shamelessly say-“Chill, It is just a
book” and I am tempted to say “yeah, cow dung is just a cake!” *moron*. To all
the severely unhinged people who have returned my books dog-eared, torn,
covered in dust or underlined – I will get you and Holy scramboly! It is going
to look like a suicide. I am not very fussy when I am reading my own book. I
have all the authority to put sticky notes on important chapters or pages,
underline beautifully crafted lines, write my own version of the expressions or
keep it under my pillow and I am not going to explain why. (Oh, it is fun to
sound snobbish sometimes)
When I lend a book, I am being a little selfish hoping that
when the borrower finishes reading it we will have something common to discuss
and I might find a new interpretation.
So if you are not going to read it, don’t fucking borrow it. I can discuss
about fictional deaths, sci-fi scenes, or simple lanes of Landour (as described
by Ruskin Bond) without any inhibition. I won’t be in such a free state of mind
even when discussing my weekend plans. Discussing metaphors involved in ‘Catcher
in the Rye’ is more awe inspiring than discussing about someone’s- friend’s-flat
mates’-boyfriend (cheap gossip).
Now I am a contextual being. My rules change for some
people. I am the one begging them to read a book that I loved and can lead. If I
have ever forced book/books into your hands, you are one of the few. If you are
the one whom I have lent (with a heavy heart), now keep it with you; it won’t
be a fond memory if we ever meet. Then there are people I want to meet soon and
give them a book. Do you think you are one of them?
 |
| Aptly put! |
No comments:
Post a Comment