Wednesday, December 3, 2008

" The time when I believed in The Frog Prince "



Saturdays have always been my favourite day of the week and I still maintain that!! But two decades back it had an absolutely different thrill factor attached to it. It so happened that my father had to work half days on Saturdays and while on his way back home he would always buy a new book for me. I can't recollect when it started or till what age it went on, but without doubts, that was a moment I still hold very close to my heart. 12:30 till 1, was the most unbearable half an hour. Time would just not pass, thinking what he would buy me this time. Would it be another Read it yourself - Ladybird book or would it be a classic or another fairytale.

Right at 1, when the doorbell rang, I would spring myself up and rush to open the door. It was an innocent excitement that I can never be able to explain. I would try and greet him and not make it obvious that I had been dying for the last half an hour to discover what would occupy me for the next 7 days. But strangely he always read my mind. And there it came out wrapped in a brown paper with the name "Good Books" written on it in bright red. My father always bought books from "Good Books". Well, in the small town where we lived, that was the only bookstore renowned for a great collection of English books. But I also think he really believed in the name!

The first thing that I always did with a new book in hand was to smell the pages and measure the thickness. Once that was done, I would read the summary and the finally dive into it. I remember, I started my reading with the easy to read "Ladybird" books. They had the suitable reader's age mentioned at the back and it always made me feel proud if I happened to be younger than that printed on the book cover. Hansel and Gretel, Heidi, Treasure Island, The Secret Garden, Spiderman are a few still etched on my mind. Another kind which I loved reading were Russian fairy tales. But I remember always struggling with the long Russian names like Ivan Tsarevich. Baba also bought me fairy tales starting with "Once upon a time in a far away land" and ending with "and they lived happily ever after". This time of my life was ruled by Snow White and the seven dwarfs, Rapunzel or The Frog Prince. I wish life was anything close to it! But back then it made so much sense.



Baba did regulate my reading. I have no recollection of him buying me comics. According to him, they did not fall in the category of books and are a waste of time and absolutely did not enhance your language skills. Hence I would have to satisfy myself with the Phantom comic strips in the newspaper. The times he did buy me any was when he was trying to infuse Hindu mythological stories into me or familiarize epics of Ramayana and Mahabharatha. I would not read them otherwise unless I was lured with the pictures of kings and palaces nicely drawn in bright colours. So that’s when "Amar Chitra Katha" came into the picture. Amar Chitra Katha also came out with stories of Akbar & Birbal or Tenalirama which were my favourites like any other Indian kid. I loved to read them over and over again and would secretly wait for somebody to ask me to tell a story. When that did not happen, my sister was always the easiest target when I wanted to hone my story telling skills.


Perhaps Baba realized I was growing up, when I refused to believe in Santa Clause and stayed up late to catch him put candies in the socks! That was roughly when he graduated me to "Classics". The list was long but so was my appetite. By that time I had turned into a voracious reader. Count of Monte Christo, The Last Mohicans, Treasure Island, Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, Oliver Twist, Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, Great Expectations were all gulped down in a row. It was a fever that I had caught on and we both refused to leave each other.


It was then that one of my friends introduced me to a special someone and it was love at first sight or rather love at first read! My love affair with Enid Blyton went on for quite a long time. I read in the bus stop, in the bus, in the lunch break, sometimes in the class hiding it in a book, back home when I should be doing homework, in the bathroom and then finally inside the blanket in torchlight. It felt exactly like gorging huge amount of food down the food pipe with water as if you have to starve for the rest of your life and this was your last chance. This is my definition of a page turning novel! The other kind of book which you only read when you have time, I call it "chewing the cud reading" like the cows do whenever they have time and are not creating havoc in somebody's garden! That’s the kind of reading which I am currently involved in.

But back then my life revolved around the Famous Fives and Secret Sevens. George or Georgina was my favourite because she was rebellious and always did what she wanted. If only my parents knew why I was being difficult and suddenly wanted to wear my hair short and keep a dog named Timmy, Enid Blyton would have been banished for lifetime. Baba thought he was dealing with adolescence here but in reality he was also paying for it every Saturday! I didn't exactly realize when the tomboyish and rebellious George gave way to the beautiful young detective Nancy Drew who drove a car and also had a boyfriend. I was growing up and so were the characters in my books. Not that I left reading classics and all the good books from "Good Books", but I would rather fall asleep over a Nancy Drew at the end of the day. It was like dessert after a meal, the sweet taste which you want to linger on till late.


Baba never bought me a Nancy Drew or did not know when I read my first Mills & Boon. But looking back, I realize he made sure that I read the right thing at the right time. He had taught me how and what to read just as he taught me how to walk and talk. Today I buy my own books but some part of me still longs for the brown paper wrapped surprise on Saturdays.



Posted by : Somali Dasgupta

5 comments:

Unknown said...

HEY, SOMI - SID IS RIGHT, IT IS A GREAT PIECE OF WRITING. U EXACTLY COVERED MOST OF MY SENTIMENTS DURING CHILDHOOD. EXCEPT THAT DAD DID BUY ME COMICS - TINKLE & AMK. MOST OF THE OTHERS DO HAVE ATROCIOUS ENGLISH.

Shelf-Introspetion said...

Hi! I have read this article. The language is excellent and so is the presentation. But I cannot say the same about the characterisation of the nostalgia. To remember childhood memories which involves books is a very noble idea, but why the cliched Frog Prince. Women in general have always wandered around the same vortex of the self-constructed psyche, which has pained me a great deal. Because they have immense talent to meander through the different channels of greater variations. I dont know this writer personally, but I would hope that she does greater justice to her talent in future.

Best Wishes

SRD

Shelf-Introspetion said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ranjan said...

Well nice piece, takes us back the times. Btw, nobody has written anything about comics so far. How about a post on that?

Tintin, Mandrake, Phantom
Held us to a ransom,
These dreary times
Of frozen rhymes
Please spread some joy at random.

Cheers,

Ranjan

Anonymous said...

@ SRD:
Dude, I need to point out a couple of things--
1)As is evident from the tone and content, its a personal post about things the author holds close to her heart. And reason why it touched a chord with all visitors( see other comments) is it echos a lot of sentiments common to us.
2)Being a personal reminiscenes of the author, it was wrong of you to expect it to conform to your lofty standards or expectations regarding deeper vortex of feminine psyches as you put it .
3) We all have grown up on a steady diet of folk lores and fairy tales and naturally enough, they have left an impression and treasure those memories fondly. Those were the stories I , for eg, I remember my mom reading to me . Hence Somali's fond remembrances must be considered as just that- happy memories. NOT a reflection on her "vortex of the self-constructed psyche" as you percieved it.
I think you read too much into a playful and emotional account of a lost childhood. Reserve the higher contemplations for the weightier works of literature please ;)