Lovleen Misra
जिस के पन्ने
क़ैद न करें
उसे क्या चुराना
जो दिमाग संग
दिल पे न छाए
उसे क्या चुराना
जो आपकी हमबिस्तर
न बन सके
उसे क्या चुराना
जो किताबी हवस
न जगाये
उसे क्या चुराना
जिसे लौटाने का
मन चाहे
उसे क्या चुराना.
जो अपने घर
पे अपनी न लगे
उसे क्या चुराना
जनाब, किताब
तेरी या मेरी नहीं
पढने वाली की होती है.
Translation
Why steal something
Whose pages fail to entrap you
Why steal something
That does not overwhelm the stone-heart
Why steal something
That cannot share your bed
Why steal something
That does not provoke a bookish lust
Why steal something
That you want to return
Why steal something
That does not feel at home in your home
Janab, a book is not mine or yours
It belongs to the reader
Roxanna Khan
I borrowed this book circa 2013 from a close friend in Palm Springs. Since then she moved to another city and I moved to Rancho Mirage this year and indeed the book made the journey with me. This is a nonfictional account of a remarkable woman who continues to impact lives today. I learned that sometimes that books are to be read when the reader is ready to receive their message and nourish their sense of reading. I learned that lives are never perfectly in cue yet there are no accidents in the universe’s complex albeit simple venn diagram.
Saloni Samant
A favourite pastime in the high school I went to was discussing all things football. To find material to reference when inserting myself into that conversation, I borrowed this book from a friend about David Beckham’s rise and fall at Man Utd and his spat with Fergie. I loved the book because it has this unique insight into the emotions behind every game and the dynamic between a coach and a player at the highest level of the game. Adds a completely new dimension to how you experience and analyze the sport. My friend moved away and the book was left behind on my shelf. Not that I was in any rush to give it back… I mean who wouldn’t want a face like that sitting on my bookshelf.
Aravinda Anantharaman
I suspect there may be a few more books in there but here’s the story of those I do remember. Can I say upfront that I am not a compulsive non-returner of books and usually a responsible borrower.
This one – For All the Tea in China was loaned by my manager when i joined a tea company. I returned the favor with The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of the WIndow and Disappeared. I’ve got his book and he’s still got mine. Then there’s Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red, bravely loaned by an ex-colleague on my last week at the job. I told him it was a risk since he wouldn’t be seeing me every day but he was keen I take it. I tried to read it, and hurry through it during the week so as to return it. But you can’t rush Orhan Pamuk and it still lies half read on the shelf.
The one with the story is Jonathan Franzen’s Corrections. It had been loaned to me by a volunteer at a library where I worked. Books were always coming and going as were people. We lost touch and the book stayed on my shelf. Early this year, we met again at my son’s school, where his daughters too studied.
As I looked at my bookshelf, it was the return of a forgotten memory. I couldn’t remember if I’d read it so I started once again. While parts of it feel familiar, there’s much to the book I am discovering and enjoying. Will I return the book? I don’t know. I mean, I can’t take it back and say, Only 13 years late but better never, can I?
Ana Colbert
Over 50 years ago a good friend, who later became my dear brother-in-law, lent me a book: “You must read it, it is my favorite book.” It was a brief novella, “Los ojos del hermano eterno” by Stefan Sweig, “The Eyes of my Brother, Forever”, the internet tells me. I read it, loved it, and was moved by he tale of a good man who moves into progressive inaction in search of justice and purification. “He who kills any man, kills his brother”, I loved to quote, and kept the book, temporarily, of course. Later, before returning it, I reread it. Didn’t like it so much. The man was selfish in his pursuit of personal perfection. One has to act and gets one’s hands dirty. I put the book in some corner and forgot again. The book traveled with me to the US, and when I saw it, I reminded myself that I must return it. I could no longer remember the details of the story and smiled at my different reactions, wondering what my brother-in-law thought. I feel sad that I won’t know, he died two years ago. So, telling about it is my opportunity for redemption. Today I looked for the book to get the picture and didn’t find it. Maybe I lent it and you’ll get another story? The picture I include is again for the internet.
Priya Agrawal
Of all things that I didn’t really “steal” but “forgot to return”!! Just when I was getting to read philosophy and theology!! Borrowed it in maybe 2005? It was from a dear friend who in turn had borrowed it from a well-known Club in Mumbai! Also remember confidently swearing that I had returned it😬. Of all the books, Holy Lord!
Swati Roy
My bookshelf has a bunch of books with adventurous backstories. The first bunch is from the same source, a friendship forged by books. I met this friend over medu vadas and books at a workplace many years ago. My baby was 4 months old and I could never manage breakfast before going to work. So, I would sneak out to have vadas from the cafeteria next door. This colleague, a senior, would always be hanging out with friends in the general vicinity of the cafeteria. I still haven’t figured out when he worked since I saw him out in the sun most of the time. But journalism is a different ball game for journos and marketing people… Anyway, one day my colleague saw the daily vada being accompanied by Agatha Christie. I saw a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. A light conversation: ‘Did you read the one where….’ And “I could never have imagined that xyz could have been the murderer” – and two of us, colleagues from different departments, became friends. The only common link – books! Many years later we went on to start Delhi’s first children’s bookstore and then India’s first children’s literature festival. Needless to say, the books were never returned!
The second book, a three-in-one Tintin, came back to my house by chance. I received this on one of my calls for donations for a library in some corner of Delhi. It was a book gifted by my son to a friend’s son years ago. I don’t remember the library that was deprived of a Tintin book because of me, but this one firmly stayed with me.
The third is yet another one of those that I could not pass on to a library. This came in a lot of books in Bangla for a library that stocks Bangla literature. The moment I saw Purnendu Pattrea, childhood memories flooded in. Baba used to be a fan and spoke about the art and craft of Purnendu Pattrea. I just could not let go of the book. The added attraction that Pattrea’s son is a good friend now, who made an unforgettable impression on me when I first met him 24 years ago. I nervously asked if he were in any way related to Purnendu Pattrea. “Yes, they say he is my father!” he declared!
Tanu Shree Singh
I was a thief. I’d steal books from my brother and my uncle. In fact we all did – my brother, my uncle who was more like an elder brother, and I. And our way of legitimising it was to stamp it with our names. So somewhere in Mum’s bookshelf is a battered Tintin with all three names boldly stamped on it. As an extra measure, I’d sometimes strike out their name stamps. The last book I stole was Yann Martel’s Life of Pi and when I went to an author session with Yann Martel recently, the book brought all those memories back. I got my stolen book autographed and today the brother lays claim to it. After all, the other person’s name on the book does not matter. We can always stamp it out.
The stealing has stopped. So do not hesitate in inviting me to your home. That empty space on your shelf? Nope. That’s not me. And no, you cannot check my bag.