Booking It!

Mr. Govind Raju is 73 years old, retired and a bookaholic. He frets over his addiction, but not too much. He has traversed all of Madras, on foot, in search of those few hours of happiness and joy, of being able to slip out into another world. “I’m not sure my earnings would last me through even the same day”, he laments, “It is like a drunken habit!”

The dapper little bald man sits in a garage full of books, surrounded by a vintage mustiness that immediately transports one to the era of the bygones. The entrance to his shop is a shiny aluminium door that proclaims-“Rare Books sold here” in all the colors of the rainbow. “My grandson painted that sign”, proudly states Praveen’s doting grandfather. “He seems to have my passion for books.”

Wouldn’t ‘obsession’ be better nomenclature for a collection of books that numbers into thousands and belongs to whole different centuries? Call it what you will, but the walls are painted with books from floor to ceiling and there are tethering towering piles of more everywhere. “I started collecting in 1954”, he muses. “I began by collecting Penguin books, which were the best and the cheapest then, at four annas per book. Today, I have over a 1000 Penguins which cover the span of thirty years- from 1935 to 1965.”

This entirely private collection ranges in varied subjects- from Indian history and heritage to wildlife, from dictionaries to long lost comic magazines. “In fact”, he states, “you’ll find a book on every subject here, except if you’re looking for computer science”. His rationale behind this is twofold and simple: “I am an old man and I am not a commercial bookseller.” His collection also includes at least a 1000 books on English and Tamil literature each.

And the Rare Books are named so for a reason. Mr. Raju’s collection includes books like a 1908 edition of ‘The English Seaman in the 16^th Century’ by James Anthony Froude and an 1896 edition of ‘Outdoor Life in England’ by Fisher to name a few. He recently sold an original copy of Darwin’s ‘The Origin of Species for Rs. 1500. Old paperwallahs are his treasure trove and he claims to have found some of his best buys there. The fact that he has salvaged these books from complete anonymity is a source of profound satisfaction to him.

He tilts back his chair onto its hind legs and gazes into space as he talks of life before he retired and gave in to this addiction. “I was, still am, a Law Consultant. I specialize in Labour Law and I have worked in various firms, including Ennur Foundaries, Gord and Daruff and Binny’s. I started working in 1961 and took up temporary retirement in 1983. I gave guest lectures on Labour Law at various places and was then recruited as a member of the Faculty of Madras University. I taught at the Tamil Nadu Faculty of Labour Studies and the Government Arts College, Madras. I finally retired 10 years ago, when I realized I didn’t want people to think of me as a presumptuous arrogant old man who went on blabbing about things!”

He rattles on, while also displaying his collection of clippings, of art, old advertisements, articles and maps. “I have travelled to America thrice- in 1997, 2002 and 2006. I have been associated with the National Geographic Society and I have seen all the biggest and best libraries in Washington DC”, he boasts between pointing out paintings by Gogonendranath Tagore done in 1921 and showing off a 1940 dictionary weighing 6 kilograms seated on his messy table. “Nowhere else in the entire city will you find such things”, he says when these tokens of yore have been sufficiently admired.

Then why sell off such rare gems? “I love these books, and will continue to do so till my dying breath”, he claims in a fit of melodrama as he takes off his glasses. Grinning, he squints at a framed painting of the 16 gopurams of South India through myopic eyes and goes on, “I want my books to go into the hands of people who would really value them. And so, I get away with quoting my own prices because collector’s items are priceless.”

Only others as addicted as him or researchers ever wander into his haven. “I have a maximum of 20 customers per month”, he says. “These include people as renowned as Ramachandra Guha, as eminent as IAS officers and as ordinary as my next door 20 year old neighbor. But they are all the same to me. In fact, I even recognize people only by the kind of book they have bought here, since I am terrible with names!”

He also states rather matter-of-factly that he is only now becoming popular in and around the city. “Only last week, my son told me that I was on the Google database”, he shyly admits, adding that he got a lot of media attention and coverage when he participated in the Madras Book Exhibition, 2005. “I paid Rs. 30000 for my stall and it seemed to be the most thronged stall of the entire exhibit. I sold a lot of books that time and was covered by the likes of NDTV and The Hindu.” But it didn’t end well. “The organizers either grew jealous of me or were prejudiced against me, but I was never called back after that time”, he recalls sadly.

His frustration comes to fore as he recalls this incident. “Everything is about money these days”, he wails, “exhibitions, work, politics and even social work! Now why would you want to advertise the good that you have done? Why should the government advertise the building of a dam or a bridge, which it does with the taxpayers’ money? Have you ever seen Gandhi sitting atop a chair and dictating to his followers?” His forehead is lined with the worries of an entire generation. Apparently enough, he has no particular political loyalties, not even Leftist as he himself is quick to point out.

Through all that he has done, he considers his collection of books to be his biggest achievement and source of pride. “It is also my intention”, he claims, “that the young people cultivate this habit of reading, collecting and preserving books and other forms of literature, since it is one of the greatest comforts that a man can have during retirement.” Does his family echo his thoughts? “Well, my wife likes to read but tends to think I am crazy. My sons like to read, but they don’t share my passion. Maybe it is a good thing because, frankly, in today’s world, it isn’t the most monetarily viable option.”

He recalls an incident when a customer, an ex- Finance Secretary of India, told him, “More than rare books, you are a rare man, Mr. Govind Raju!” For a man who sold his Ford Super Deluxe in order to make room for his books, this might be an understatement. Looking at this passionate man, whose shiny pate reflects the light off the overhanging bulb as he tilts back in his chair; one would be inclined to think that addiction can be good too. Rarely, but in his case definitely true.