On
a late Sunday afternoon, with nothing much to do, I strolled out to the string
of second-hand bookstores dotting the narrow lanes at the end of the main market
area. Having already read most of the popular books, I was looking for
something obscure – may be with a catchy title from an unknown author. It is
difficult to say no to these shopkeepers when they insist on buying at least
something from their huge collection. But when one has meager means like me,
haggling becomes easier.
This
was just my first month after completing my graduation. With no vacancies for
teachers, I decided to stay back in the city and look for jobs. I was okay with
the idea of being a home tutor or even assisting at a tuition class. With minimum
support arriving from my parents, things were as they say, ‘quite tight.’ I was
still staying at the college hostel as the next batch of students had not yet arrived.
Having
walked empty-handed out of two stores, I was caught by a book on Sarp Dosh in
the third store. I was glancing through the book – trying to figure out if any
of it would make sense to someone whose knowledge of astrology is limited to reading daily horoscope and finding the lucky colour of the day. However, the
book seemed too technical with detailed astrology charts. I was about to return
the book to its stack, when a man tapped on my shoulder and said, “It is a good
book. Once you get a hang of it, you’ll want to read more of those.”
I
turned around to see a man in his late 40s with a thick moustache and rectangular
glasses. He was carrying a flimsy plastic bag with a few books. “Have
you read it already?” I asked and felt silly at my question. Of course, he had.
“Yes, it is a
nice read,” he replied, “but the one by Charu Pande is better.”
“Do you
believe in all these things? This movement of planets deciding our fate…” I asked
with a smile.
“No, not
really. But that is not the intent of reading them, isn’t it? I keep reading
all sorts of stuff,” he smiled.
“How frequently
do you come here? Like twice a month?” I asked wondering if he’d know the shopkeeper and could help me score a discount?
“Sometimes,
I come here twice a day. Once, before going to college, and once after.
It’s on my way. I love collecting books,” he took out his phone. “I have two
rooms full of them. My father is now asking me to pay rent for the books.” He
kept doing something on his phone. I was wondering if he was about to show me
something, and indeed, he showed me a video capturing stacks of books at his home.
“This
is fascinating. Are you a PhD student?” I asked feebly, trying not to offend
him.
“Not
a student. I am a college librarian. I keep reading at the library. Then, I
come home, and read some more. What do you do?” he kept his phone back in
his pocket.
“I
just finished studying B.Ed. Now, looking for a job. By any chance, does your
college-“ I began.
“No,
sorry. They don’t hire fresh graduates,” he said and was about to walk off when
a thought occurred to me.
“Listen.
Will you show me your collection? These shops have either very popular books or the ones which I won’t understand,” I was exploring the possibilities.
Parikshit’s
house, as I had figured from the video, was a rather modest one. Faded
exteriors, old electric sockets, creaky doors – it had all the signs of being
from the previous generation. He was
living with his father who kept fussing around about money and casually throwing
around that phrase – ‘Major inconvenience.’
“Our kitchen tap’s
been leaking – major inconvenience.”
“These damned
crows just keep cawing – major inconvenience.”
And sure enough, there were a few crows crowing all around that house. Quite atypical for
that time of the day. Anyway, when he brought up Parikshit’s insufficient
earning for the third time that evening, I suggested what I had in mind – “Is
it okay if I could rent out a room? I don’t mind the books in the smaller one.”
“Only
one person in my house is a major inconvenience. Since his books can’t pay the
rent, it would be good to have someone who does,” Parikshit’s father agreed
right away.
---
Once
settled in, my schedule was to go out each day, knock on the doors
of educational institutes, and return with the hope of a better tomorrow. A
week in that house and I realized that the father’s concerns were not
unfounded. Parikshit read a book before going to college, picked it up as soon
as he returned home, and kept reading well into the night. There was hardly any
conversation between the father and the son.
“What
does your father really want?” I asked Parikshit once after dinner while he was
walking with a book in his hand and I was reading one too.
“The
stuff you will give him at the beginning of each month. He wants just that,” he
said, not taking his eyes off the book.
“And
you?” I was trying to figure out if there was a way to reconcile things between
the father and the son.
“The
stuff you see all around in this house minus the people,” he replied.
“You
don’t want to reach a higher level of earning?” I knew I was walking into the none-of-my-business
territory.
“Not
really, no,” he answered
It
was either the futility of the conversation or the possibility of turning into
Parikshit that kept me from sleeping that night. It must have been around 3 in
the AM. The crows were still at it as if the house was cursed by them. I sat upright
on my bed and saw a glow emerging from Parikshit’s room. I thought it must have
been a fire and rushed out.
When I peered through
his door, I saw him seated on the floor. A book was open in front of him. A stream
of light was pouring out of the book. I don’t know how but he sensed my
presence and closed the book shut. The light vanished and he looked at me.
“Shouldn’t you
be asleep?” he asked me as I took a step back.
“Yes, I
thought…” was all I could manage and returned to my room.
The next day,
I caught up with Parikshit at breakfast. “So do you want to tell me what that
was all about?” I asked.
“Tell you what
was what about?” he asked, “Focus on your career… if you want to make one.”
That was
unprecedentedly rude of him. I decided not to poke into matters that are beyond
me. Did this have to do anything with those Sarpa Dosh books? I couldn’t believe my thoughts had gone into that direction. Yet, I was eager to know
more about Parikshit’s secrets.
That night I
decided not to sleep. At exactly 3, I glanced towards Parikshit’s room. That glow again. I tiptoed out. It was the same sight from the
previous night. This time, I did not stop at his doorstep. “Parikshit, what are
you doing?” I asked and touched his shoulder.
Immediately,
the light flashed so bright that I had to close my eyes. When I realized that the intensity of the flash had finally reduced, I opened
my eyes.
We were not in
Parikshit’s room anymore. We were in a forest. The glow was emerging from a fire pit. Parikshit
glanced at me and returned to the book. But we were not alone. Surrounding us,
were all sorts of animals – rabbits, snakes, wolves, even a tiger. The trees
were lined with crows and none of them were crowing. They were all listening intently to Parikshit. In the
early hours of the morning, Parikshit closed the book and we ended up being back in his
room. “I am too tired now. Talk tomorrow?” he said.
The next
morning – before I could say anything, Parikshit said, “So that was the answer
to your 'What do you want?' It is a minor inconvenience but it will
do.”
