Holding the bar near the steps of the bus behind my mom, I watched as the bus stopped at the bus stop.
My mom got down first, and as I rushed to jump out, I slipped. I resisted the fall by putting my hand down.
“Hare, Babu(Oh, baby) , again!” she exclaimed angrily. I looked at her, managing a sheepish smile while rubbing my pants.
“Wait.” she held my hand before I could brush off the dust. She dusted my clothes and hand “After entering the school, first wash your hands” my mom guided.
I nodded and smiled, pointing towards the school. “Come, come fast; the program is about to start.” Not worrying about the dust in my hands, I grabbed my mom’s hand and pulled her along.
“Ok, I can’t walk like you; you go, I will come,” she smiled at me again. I nodded and started running.
“Slowly, don’t forget to wash your hands,” she said, giving me a thumbs up as I ran towards the school.
It was Sunday, and the only time I was happy to run towards a school. It was a monthly meeting by teachers from around my mom’s school.
Thank goodness it wasn’t my school’s teachers joining. I washed my hands as promised. Good boy this day, honestly.
And a big school where the meeting took place as it was our 5th month meeting we both never missed. You will know why I liked it later.
I ran to the room, looking around. Many called my name, as I was one of the three kids everyone liked because my mom was a headmistress.
If you are Indian, the first thing you get now is what Tamilians say, Vathiyar pillai makku (teacher’s child is a dullard).
Caught, caught! I will talk about this in a future story. winks
My mom’s close friend and colleague raised her hand, booking a seat near her for us as usual. I ran to her and sat down.
“Where is your mom? Did you come alone?” she asked.
I pointed towards the window. “Your headmistress is lazy, late to the program, miss,”
she teased, playfully slapping my shoulder as the speaker started.
“Miss, Miss, look, today’s topic is about rockets.” I was more interested in the stars than the slap I usually got in class.
(Fast-forward to the lunch scene.)
All gathered in the center, pulled benches, and opened what they brought for lunch. “Potluck!” After learning new things, this is the next highlight of coming here!.
Bon appétit
You like it or not, Indian potluck is the best place to see all the food types in India. East, West, North, and South — break India into many pieces, and you still get the best food every 50 kilometers. I’m not a foodie, but I love Indian potluck.
“Madam, after lunch, can we go to the book fair? It’s just five kilometers from here. We can catch an auto. My daughter needs some books,” Miss asked my mom, looking at me. Her daughter was also looking at me.
Books! I already had so many from school. How many more do I have to read? I kept looking at Miss and her daughter, hoping they wouldn’t ask again.
Slowly, I looked at my mom’s response. She nodded, running her hand over my head. “Yes, Radha, I wanted to go too. I heard it’s a big fair and my son has seen nothing like it.”
I tugged at my mom’s hand, pinching her little finger. “Mom, it’s Sunday. I can’t do another outing. I want to watch a movie,” I pleaded.
She cut me off, “Okay, I will get you ice cream, okay?”
And there comes the bait. I was SOLD. I smiled at Miss, her daughter, and everything around me. Ice cream!
Onward to my very first book fair.
Yes, it was a wonderful big fair of books. I can say today it was big, but back then, I wasn’t sure.
Both teachers made me walk all around in a big circle. Everywhere, each stall had only Books!, Books!!, Books!!!.
My mom’s friend was a real bookworm. I had seen her many times in my mom’s school. In her free time, she always had a book, some book to read. I hoped her daughter would be the same.
It looked like they teamed up and bought 15+ books in the end. My mom wasn’t much of a reader, but she bought two books.
In the beginning, she asked me to look at some books and showed me a few, but I said no and kept looking around at strangers. Eventually, my mom stopped asking me.
“Raj kanna(darling in Tamil), come here and see this. It’s about rockets, how rockets work,” she explained without trying to influence me. She tried many times to make me occupied. I just looked at the book, kept it, and as usual, looked around.
We were in a quiet, big book stall for quite a while, all three of us looking at books curiously.
I was getting bored, standing in the same place inside the stall. Just behind me was a broad table extending outside of the shop, full of books placed face up.
As I looked at people, I started feeling bored and noticed two small books catching my eye. They were called pocket books.
Cut!
I do not want to make this scene more mystic, like Chaplin by Richard Attenborough in the storeroom. Suddenly Chaplin’s chosen outfit, one by one, glows and comes to him.
I wasn’t a reader of books other than mugging up my school books for exams. I didn’t want another exam my mom kept for these books.
They were two pocket-size books, but one was very thick. I couldn’t see it properly nor read the title. One had three people looking up and an English man who looked like a medieval guy with a long mustache.
Another book cover had two men in a stadium with iron outfits, riding horses with long staves in their hands (at least, that’s what I could see).
I kept looking at the books for some time here and there; my eyes kept going back to them. I saw many small books, not sure about their color or size, but I could really see the images or titles.
Not sure what inspired on those two small books.
I tried to reach out to take a stranger’s book when Radha Ma’am took the books to me. “Wait no, I’m just looking,” I said, but she gave them to me, anyway. I looked at Ma’am, and she smiled.
“See what book your son selected, Ma’am. He’s an English man in both medieval stories,” her daughter smiled and said, “The Three Musketeers and Ivanhoe.”
That was the adventure of my first book fair and the beginning of a lifelong bibliophile. This story is getting long, so let me end it here and wait for the next adventure with these two books.
Thanks to Radhika Ma’am for turning me from a boy who reads books only for exams to a bibliophile.
