While studying for my Masters degree in English Literature, I was forced to go scrounging through half a dozen bookshops in this city (courtesy IGNOU and the near-impossibility of finding those texts).
And so, yesterday I stepped into a real book shop after maybe 15 years.
It was a forgotten but much cherished world which brought back a strong dose of sepia tinted memories.
The rows of books, lined up neatly on the shelves according to subject- and books spilling onto the floor in piles- and some on twirling stands- and a few in the glass display case- were enough to transport me to my own school days.
Minoo, Dinshaw & Co. was the preferred bookstore for our school. Located centrally in Hazratganj, it was a long, long store, extending well into different sections and a store-room (where the prized best books were kept- the ones no one read except perhaps a few of my friends and me). I still remember the face of the two cashiers- the ones who probably owned the shop- the ones who created neat labelled bundles of texts and exercise books according to the class- and the ones who knew where each edition of any possible book was kept.
I loved that shop. They also sold a few stationery items and primarily books. The smell which engulfed you as soon as you stepped inside- the perfume of knowledge, combined with a generous helping of geography (so many authors across the world under one roof), the old-worldness of history... it was, to put it succinctly- awesome.
Now I have an iPad and a flipkart to buy me books. The dank scent of those unread books- mixed with the minty new smell- has been replaced by a flat screen showing me at least fifty options and prompting me to buy now.
And I was a trifle sad, that in the end, I had to purchase my texts through flipkart.
