My Shillong Sojourn with ‘The Girl from Nongrim Hills (from the pages of April 2014 issue of enajori.com)

Terra Firma Home Sick Blues

Three rows ahead of me sat the man who lost his mother the previous day. Both of us were sitting diagonally aisle seats of the bus. In front of him the road kept sweeping itself in under our speeding bus as new sceneries emerged on the horizon line. He was looking blankly at the ever changing landscape in front of him, teary eyed. He was sad at his mother’s death but was it sorrow that made his eyes teary it was hard to assume, because he always had those small, often wet, eyes that betrayed most emotions.

He has travelled this journey innumerable time, ever since he left his mother and siblings behind three decades ago. Holidays and festivals, deaths and weddings…he found himself treading the same road and walking down the same lane to probe the same door over and over again. His mother would already be expecting his arrival but like her son she too would emote frugally. Gentle murmur of small talk in the portico would be enough to ripple her expectation laden siesta as she would faintly hear her son’s voice. She would slowly slide out of the bed, tie her grey hair into a bun and walk past the other room. A glimmer of a smile would probably escape from her lips but not much else as she would enquire about his travel weariness and ensure some tea to soothe the same. She didn’t ask much about his work as she wouldn’t understand much herself. He was the wise one among her sons and daughters; went to colleges and universities to earn degrees. He was also the son who was away most of the time, therefore missed sorely. But with him back now she would sit in her armchair with contentment reflecting in her eyes.

Between her chores and rest she would often remember him and worry about his health, marriage and well being. She would write letters to him and wait for his replies. And in the months approaching the festivals she would enquire beforehand about his arrival. Few days before his arrival she would soak the Bengal grams that he liked sprouted and on the morning of his arrival she would pick vegetables of his choice and line them up for her daughters-in-law to cook. He would bring her a new cloth on the festive occasion and give her some money to meet her expenses. She would show him the new hearing aid, water filter, blanket or whatever it was that she bought with the money he gave her on his previous visit. In later years her son would arrive with his family in small noisy automobiles that dropped them off at her gates. As the vehicle broke the tranquility of the neighborhood with its shrill revving, she would walk out to the same portico and watch them walk up the lane. As her daughter-in-law enquired about her health she would nod and smile gently. She would again sit in her armchair and listen in silence as her family kept talking and laughing. She probably thought of her long dead husband and wished they sit together as their family grew over the years. However off late she wasn’t keeping well. She fought and survived at least two near fatal heart attacks, albeit battle torn she was. She was speaking bleary delirium and been in bed for almost three months till yesterday.

He reached his home in some time, stayed for a few days and returned after his mother’s funeral. He continued to visit his home town for a few more years until one day he returned home never to leave again. Much like a horse coming to terms with the stillness of the ground beneath after a tiring gallop, he sunk himself into his mother’s arm chair and into the tranquility around it. And in his silence, he too, probably, wished his mother was sitting by him; share the silence and rejoice the fulfillment of a life time’s longing. In his free time he would read or visit the neighbors. But more often he would grow a few vegetables and flowers. He liked gardening; he had a natural gift for it. As he worked his way through the mud and the saplings, memories of childhood – plucking berries or stealing mangoes, swimming in the river or lazing around under the winter sun – would leave a trail of thought in his mind like a shooting star.

Ever since noon, he was poking his little hoe around his French bean trees to loosen the earth, left crusty by an unusually hot November sun. Finally satisfied at having done enough, he washed his hands and feet and walked up to the porch chair. He did pause by it for a while but went towards the kitchen instead. It was approaching dusk and he picked up a tin can which was shining in the last rays of sunlight. He opened the lid – there was still a spoonful or two of the premium quality tea leaves that he has been sparingly last few days. It will come handy when his son arrives today evening, he thought. His son and daughter in law recently had a baby; today will be the first time he will see his grandchild.

A stroll at the New Delhi World Book Fair 2015

The cool gust of breeze welcome me as I step out of Hall 12 of Pragati Maidan. I check my visitor pass to ensure that I have finished criss-crossing all the pavilions that hosted the 2000+ stalls, domestic and foreign. Later tonight the annual New Delhi World Book Fair 2015 (NDWBF) will wind down after splashing a nine day feast for the eager legion of NCR book worms. A day spent amidst the choicest of literary collections from around the world is indeed a book worm’s delight, which is why book fairs are thriving across cities around the world, year after year. Coming back to the cool gust of wind, it’s definitely one of the better times of the year here in New Delhi to step out of your home and enjoy the NDWBF with winter fading away and the fire breathing Delhi summer yet to gallop down the Aravalli plains.

Organized by National Book Trust, NDWBF showcased over 2000 stalls including 30 foreign ones. Singapore was the guest country while South Korea was the focus country. The book fair theme highlighted the culture, history and locales of India’s North East and also the literature coming out of that region. Author’s Corner, an interactive platform, were held across five halls where over 500 writers discussed literature and exchanged ideas with readers over more than 300 sessions. This book fair traditionally has been drawing overwhelming footfall, which is a reflection of the city’s growing image as an education hub. Apart from students, young kids and an emerging educated class are increasingly flocking the book fair.

The Theme Pavilion was named “Suryodaya: Emerging voices from Northeast India”. Inside were paintings, books and photographs, intelligently selected to take the visitor closer to what is now known in tourism parlance as Paradise Unexplored. Adjacent to it was the Foreign Pavilion which was drawing large number of visitors. There was particular interest among visitors to click photographs with the Indonesian ladies in their traditional attire. Lovers of Urdu found themselves spoilt for choice among several stalls from Pakistani cities like Karachi and Lahore. Asian nations had a major presence, with large stalls by Korea and Singapore and a very popular Saudi Arabian stall too. However I came out of the pavilion regretting not knowing Spanish as Instituto Cervantes had put some mouth watering books on Bunuel and Picasso on display.

The Indian languages pavilion predominantly comprised of Hindi literature stalls, although National Book Trust had displayed its huge collection of translated works in almost all Indian languages. The General and Trade pavilion was by far the largest and most crowded. Young kids could be seen coaxing their parents into buying that “one more book”, which is always a heartening sight. Curiously enough, there were several rather flashy stalls displaying literatures about their religious Gurus. And yes, that included the flamboyant Guru Ram Rahim Singh too. No wonder, we as a country, spend more money in the name of religion than anyone else. Zealous followers turned volunteers were pushing their version of godliness to unassuming visitors; and at very competitive prices!

With exam season round the corner, books on competitive exams were flying off the shelves. But special mention has to be made of the discounted book stalls. You could buy a Jhumpa Lahiri or an Ian Mcewan title for 100 rupees, and the readers knew it only too well. Even several reputed publishers joined the bandwagon and were offering attractive discounts on otherwise pricey books. At an age when information is just a search engine away from you, it requires lot of smart play on the part of the publishers too stay relevant. Best sellers and award winning writers aside, the trick is in spotting, writing and publishing information which a reader would prefer in book form than in a web page; and the men in the business seem to know it pretty well. After all what are successful book fairs like NDWBF but proofs that book worms still like to curl up inside the comfort of their paperbacks.