When books led to tragedy

We seem to be getting more and more aware of the need to cherish the written word.

Whether it is text books or self-help books, the never admitted to ‘guide’ books that we secretly used to help us fast track our way through examinations, saving ourselves us the bother of digging into reference books, or good old ‘story’ books with which we indulge ourselves in our spare time, we know that we need the stimulus of books and we go in search of them.

For as long as I can remember, we have spent some of the happiest hours of our lives browsing for books.

These could be among the well-ordered shelves of the most posh shop in a mall or amid the untidy piles of discarded second hand books in a roadside stall. There are many gems we have chanced upon and picked up from a small mat on the pavement – and although we come home and do whatever we can to scrub them clean, a part of their charm lies in their yellowed and dog-eared pages.

We know there is nothing to replace the feel of smooth new paper, but we also know that there is no other way we could have got this particular ‘golden oldie’ into our collection of books. When we were in school, the regular text books were sometimes so expensive that well in advance, we needed to find ‘seniors’ who were willing to hand over their books to us at half price – or maybe a little more, depending on the condition of the book.

It was common to find more than two previous owners’ names listed on our books – and we always wanted the copies of the ‘super smart’ students: the ones who marked the right paragraphs and whose pencilled comments would help us get the marks they had!

In college, some texts were available only in single copies in the library and the entire class had to share the use of that. There were no copying machines and we slogged it out, writing down pages and pages of notes. If someone was lucky enough to have got a book from somewhere, it was like hitting the mother lode. So we scoured the second-hand shops in narrow lanes and ‘gullies’, hoping to come upon an old but well looked after copy that we could proudly open up in class.

The many pleasures of searching for books were learnt early in life and we continued through the years, listing this as one of our favourite pastimes. A full day in the market to follow our dreams — imagine that!

As we grow older, it could be followed by an ice pack or a hot water bottle on our aching feet and tired necks, but we don’t consider such an outing an ordeal and we don’t give it a miss!

Those young people who went in search of books last Thursday evening in Dilsukhnagar, Hyderabad, may have been like us. They rushed into the marketplace and hurried to get the books they needed for the courses they were doing or they dawdled a bit to make sure they were making the right choices.

Little did they know that those books would be the last things they saw and a nightmare would unleash that would snuff out lives and maim and mutilate them and their friends. But that is what happened.

Surely, we will think twice before going on another book chase — or will we just think, as those unfortunate ones probably did, that books could never be their downfall?

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.