I always smell my books.
Yes, you read that right.
But no, not at the book shop where there are people milling
about. That might be construed as a shameful
act. There I only read some comics end-to-end, spend countless hours reading back
cover snippets or sometimes prologues to decide on the books, surreptitiously look at the title of the books that other people are evaluating and some
such shameless acts. (I just realized
that the words shameless and shameful have very interesting usage. Yeah, sometimes
I shamelessly digress like that.)
No. The act of olfactory investigation comes later.
When I go home after the book purchase sojourn and have
finished writing my name, date and place of purchase. (I am reminded of a
brilliant piece of dialog from "Up in the air" - "Men
get such hardons from putting their names on things. You guys don't grow up.
It's like you need to pee on everything.". Touche. And I already confessed
that I digress.).
But that's when I do it. When I am lying down snuggly on the
sofa with the book in hand. I caress the spine, feel the letter emboss on the
title, open a random page and inhale the euphoric fragrance of a newly printed
book.
Yes, it is, in a way, sensual I suppose. After all, what we
have with a book is a relationship. In all essence of the word. That is
probably why the smell of an old book makes one feel embraced with a
familiarity that comes with time. That is probably why an old book's fragrance
is not only emotive but also hallucinogenic. For me, It always conjures up an
image of a medieval time wooden shack in the middle of a rich forest, filled
with the sounds of chirpy birds and rustling leaves and a gurgling brook, all in
the back drop of a cloudy grey sky with a pleasantly cool breeze.
And my relationships were only with paperbacks. They age
less gracefully but I think it adds to their charm. The motley browning of
pages, the frayed edges, crinkles on the spine. Hardcovers were like celebrity crushes. You
know what I mean right? :/
I had moved on to reading ebooks the last couple of years.
There were multiple reasons -non availability of some of the titles that I
wanted in the local book shops, the price difference, the convenience of
carrying multiple books in a small device, so on and so forth.
Technology has made our lives a lot easier and cooler. I
forced myself the bitter pill of migrating to ebooks and now after a couple of years I buy only on
Kindle. Now I do feel pretty ok reading on a digital screen. It's pretty handy
- I read on the road, in the metro, at lunch, during boring movies, in travel.
But I miss the fragrance. More than anything. Yes, I also
miss the feel of paper and the subconscious anticipation of the end by the
relative weights in the right & left hands. But I miss the fragrance. It's
almost like the smell adds a separate tangible offering in addition to the
actual content. Like a personality.
But such is life. Old gives in to new. Tradition gives in to
convenience.
But whatever gives in, lives on.
In flashes of nostalgia, in our dreams, in an subliminal yearning.
While the new can be convenient and cool, the traditional
and the old, while existing only in the memories, still warms the soul.
And
while I adopt technology in the fast paced world that we live in, making ends
meet, saving for the future, working for my career, I still think of that
wooden shack to retire in and read paperbacks.
In tribute to all the paperbacks that have given me company,
entertainment, thrills, laughs, knowledge, wisdom and ultimately unwavering
friendship.
