Farewell, book haven

Representation pic. Pic/iStock

Interestingly, it was a string of SOS posts on social media from several Dilliwallahs, essentially members of the publisher community, that first alerted this columnist about our worst fears. Yes, we had been hearing murmurs that the popular Kemps Corner's outlet of Crossword in the city was counting down its days, but the bibliophile and optimist in us was hoping for a pandemic miracle to salvage the city's reading landscape. Alas. It wasn't to be, and as we scrolled through the posts, it came to light that the bookstore in SoBo was going to shut down on September 30.

Delhi's publishing community were ruing not just the loss of their preferred bookstore for city launches of their big-ticket authors for nearly two decades but also their favourite meeting ground to hobnob with Bombay's literati; some even went as far as to reminisce about Moshe Shek's apple pie and his other delish baked goodies that made it a popular hangout on the mezzanine level.

But what about the Bombaywallah? How much will he/she miss this landmark? Honestly, I dare not hazard a guess of the lunar crater-sized vacuum it will leave behind. The outpouring of grief was spontaneous and continues even as I write this column. These memories offered insight into how a bookstore that's been around for a sufficient period of time can become intrinsic and synergic to a city in constant churn. Sadly, in this case, as with so many, it was unable to hold on to a mini landmark. Adults recalled their time when as students they would make a dash to claim book vouchers that they won at school competitions; young parents warmly remembered how they would pore over bestsellers in the café whiling away time until they could pick up their kids from the schools in the neighbourhood while now-married couples reminisced their first, second, and many more dates, talking all things books and then some more, we'd imagine.

The space hosted some of the city's earliest and biggest stardust-ey book launches in the 2000s and into the next decade. Bombay's culture club, its Prada-toting swish Page 3 set and its jhola-sporting junta would rub shoulders and hold on to every word of the author, and later, engage in Q&A sessions over chai and goodies. Many customers would watch proceedings from the café, a la the balcony view. And, amidst all this, you'd still spot readers buried in the different sections, oblivious to the glitzy proceedings. It reminded me a little bit of our city - everyone carries on with their lives in their own little universes.

However, the past few years saw a shift in its core; regulars would swear how they experienced a slow moving away from its original focus on books as more paraphernalia, from toys to gizmos and gadgets took more space. Yes, the book releases continued and it managed to still draw in loyalists. Yet, as industry-watchers will tell you, that when the pendulum swings from titles to toiletries, it can mean only one thing. And so, its bowing out from the biblio landscape of the city will be a genuine loss.

When a friend messaged me to discuss the devastating news, she made a pertinent point -- of how important it was for the neighbourhood and rued that the list of places to take children to enjoy and engage with physical books gets shorter every day. I could only nod in agreement. Having spent time in New York, she went on to add that it reminded her of how small, long-running book shops within a community had to give way to large drugstores and other establishments.

She is spot on. The larger fear is that while our generations will understand and have memories of what it means to browse through bookshelves for hours, exchange notes with fellow readers, compare titles, and try shortening that reading list so you don't break the bank, the coming generations will be robbed of such experiences. Young minds will never know what it means to step into a bookstore, let alone the legacy it might have left behind or the impression it created on its customers. Because bookstores, and especially in a city like Bombay, are more than brick-and-mortar spaces. They are living, breathing spaces that make the city richer, as a sacred space for literature, dialogue and debate. A handful of bookstores remain, and need our support. They need to thrive, and not just survive.

I leave you with these words from American author Neil Gaiman: "What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul."

mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana

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