It's a given that my teenage daughter and I never seem to agree on anything. So much so that I've stopped hoping...
Strolling along Abids road, some months ago, to have a picture framed at Abbas & Co., (an iconic, unpretentious store that eight out of ten Hyderabadis would have visited in their lifetime), I grabbed my daughter by the arm and said "let's go to A A Hussain....I have to show you this book shop."
Never one to say "no" to a visit to a book store, she acquiesced, more out of curiosity, than anything else.
Once inside, I paused at the counter to exchange pleasantries with the owner, becoming conscious at an over powering wave of nostalgia that engulfed me to - it happens every single time I go to AAH.. Back in the 1970s and 80s, when I was growing up, A A Hussain was perhaps the only book store of repute and one which boasted of an enormous repertoire of children's books.
I remember my mother leaving me and my brother alone in the store, while she went about doing her other chores on Abids road - the then owner never seemed to mind how much time we spent on the first floor, which was the children's section, there was never anyone breathing down your neck. Many's a time when I almost finished a "Tintin" in the store itself - they cost a princely sum of Rs.11 those days and so, one couldn't aspire to own all of them.
I graduated from Enid Blyton to Nancy Drew/ Hardy Boys here, from Tintin to Asterix, devoured abridged versions of Great Expectations, Pride & Prejudice, The Three Musketeers, Treasure Island, et al, before actually graduating to the ground floor. While in high school and college, I bided my time among the frowned -upon Irving Wallace, James Hadley Chase, Harold Robbins etc - all available on the ground floor. Rose in the parents esteem by reeling off Shakespeare occasionally (came from reading abridged versions of his plays and a book of quotations, mostly, all in the store). Grew starry eyed from reading "Wuthering Heights", giggled helplessly through P G Wodehouse, secretly read parts of the forbidden "Lady Chatterley's Lover" when no one was looking - again, all in the store. It took a couple of hours of browsing before I bought, maybe, one title. Nobody, including the clerks attached to the premises, ever objected. Moreover, it was also a question of budget - what with pocket money constraints and all that.
A good report at the end of the school term automatically guaranteed a visit to A A Hussain, with a promise of one book but more often than not, plea bargained for a couple more. Add ons like winning prizes in literary and cultural activities in school brought on an additional windfall of books from AAH...
My visits into this hallowed institution continued till the late-nineties, after which I was temporarily swayed by the "mega book stores" that had sprung up. Lack of parking space on Abids Road added to it - my forays to AAH decreased greatly, though buying, stockpiling and of course reading books never did. A chance visit to AAH during this time led me to question my own loyalty and all books purchased thence bore the signature round AAH rubber stamp on the flyleaf. Came a full circle, so to speak.
Shaking myself out of the daydream, I turned around to look for my daughter,
I will never forget that moment - with her eyes shining like stars, the excitement etched all over her, my daughter mouthed the words"Mamma, this is what I call a REAL book shop ..."
Yes, indeed, this was a "real" book store - piled high on the floor were books, the shelves were bursting at their seams, likewise the glass cases under the counter - there was "standing room" only. And the wonderful, almost sensuous, aroma that can only come from books, old and new, hung heavy in the air.
We came away with some four or five books, which was only to be expected. As for me, I was besides myself with joy - always proud that the reading habit has been ingrained in my daughter, the fact that AAH had evoked such a feeling in her made me feel I had done something right. For this generation, plush, air conditioned emporiums that are purveyors of a multitude of other items like stationery, DVDs, games and soft toys and what have you, are what pass off for "book stores". The actual volume of available books may occupy a only small percentage of the floor space.
It is with a enormous feeling of sadness, when today, I hear that AAH is to be shut down. The building is to be demolished and in it's place, no prizes for guessing, a swanky mall will come up.
"The old order changeth yielding place to new..."? Not quite.
A few years ago, some right minded folks lamented the death of the reading habit among the younger generation. Thankfully, somewhere along the line that changed and there was an sudden upsurge in the number of "book store" chains that staked their claim in malls across all major cities. Good old AAH too, pulled on gamely. And now? The Kindles and the huge discounts on books offered on line seem to have done their deadly bit. After all, who wants to make a trip to the book shop, hunt for non existent parking, when all you need to do is press a button for a book to download/ order on-line, right? This is a classic case of "big fish eat small fish".
There is a feeling of helplessness, sadness, some minuscule percentage of hope that a miracle will take place. What, exactly, can one hope for anyway? That AAH will open once again in the "swanky new mall". where there will be a coffee shop and toy/ stationery store attached to it? That it will completely lose it's character, amidst all the clothing, shoe and fast food joints in the mall, exactly like what happened to Johns Bakery, some years ago?
Maybe it is better to let things be. When an institution like AAH goes under, despite all efforts, one needs to let it do so with its head high.
Like many others, AAH was an integral part of my formative years and will never be forgotten.
A few months from now, AAH will be laid to rest and I must say "So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye......I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye".
Strolling along Abids road, some months ago, to have a picture framed at Abbas & Co., (an iconic, unpretentious store that eight out of ten Hyderabadis would have visited in their lifetime), I grabbed my daughter by the arm and said "let's go to A A Hussain....I have to show you this book shop."
Never one to say "no" to a visit to a book store, she acquiesced, more out of curiosity, than anything else.
Once inside, I paused at the counter to exchange pleasantries with the owner, becoming conscious at an over powering wave of nostalgia that engulfed me to - it happens every single time I go to AAH.. Back in the 1970s and 80s, when I was growing up, A A Hussain was perhaps the only book store of repute and one which boasted of an enormous repertoire of children's books.
I remember my mother leaving me and my brother alone in the store, while she went about doing her other chores on Abids road - the then owner never seemed to mind how much time we spent on the first floor, which was the children's section, there was never anyone breathing down your neck. Many's a time when I almost finished a "Tintin" in the store itself - they cost a princely sum of Rs.11 those days and so, one couldn't aspire to own all of them.
I graduated from Enid Blyton to Nancy Drew/ Hardy Boys here, from Tintin to Asterix, devoured abridged versions of Great Expectations, Pride & Prejudice, The Three Musketeers, Treasure Island, et al, before actually graduating to the ground floor. While in high school and college, I bided my time among the frowned -upon Irving Wallace, James Hadley Chase, Harold Robbins etc - all available on the ground floor. Rose in the parents esteem by reeling off Shakespeare occasionally (came from reading abridged versions of his plays and a book of quotations, mostly, all in the store). Grew starry eyed from reading "Wuthering Heights", giggled helplessly through P G Wodehouse, secretly read parts of the forbidden "Lady Chatterley's Lover" when no one was looking - again, all in the store. It took a couple of hours of browsing before I bought, maybe, one title. Nobody, including the clerks attached to the premises, ever objected. Moreover, it was also a question of budget - what with pocket money constraints and all that.
A good report at the end of the school term automatically guaranteed a visit to A A Hussain, with a promise of one book but more often than not, plea bargained for a couple more. Add ons like winning prizes in literary and cultural activities in school brought on an additional windfall of books from AAH...
My visits into this hallowed institution continued till the late-nineties, after which I was temporarily swayed by the "mega book stores" that had sprung up. Lack of parking space on Abids Road added to it - my forays to AAH decreased greatly, though buying, stockpiling and of course reading books never did. A chance visit to AAH during this time led me to question my own loyalty and all books purchased thence bore the signature round AAH rubber stamp on the flyleaf. Came a full circle, so to speak.
Shaking myself out of the daydream, I turned around to look for my daughter,
I will never forget that moment - with her eyes shining like stars, the excitement etched all over her, my daughter mouthed the words"Mamma, this is what I call a REAL book shop ..."
Yes, indeed, this was a "real" book store - piled high on the floor were books, the shelves were bursting at their seams, likewise the glass cases under the counter - there was "standing room" only. And the wonderful, almost sensuous, aroma that can only come from books, old and new, hung heavy in the air.
We came away with some four or five books, which was only to be expected. As for me, I was besides myself with joy - always proud that the reading habit has been ingrained in my daughter, the fact that AAH had evoked such a feeling in her made me feel I had done something right. For this generation, plush, air conditioned emporiums that are purveyors of a multitude of other items like stationery, DVDs, games and soft toys and what have you, are what pass off for "book stores". The actual volume of available books may occupy a only small percentage of the floor space.
It is with a enormous feeling of sadness, when today, I hear that AAH is to be shut down. The building is to be demolished and in it's place, no prizes for guessing, a swanky mall will come up.
"The old order changeth yielding place to new..."? Not quite.
A few years ago, some right minded folks lamented the death of the reading habit among the younger generation. Thankfully, somewhere along the line that changed and there was an sudden upsurge in the number of "book store" chains that staked their claim in malls across all major cities. Good old AAH too, pulled on gamely. And now? The Kindles and the huge discounts on books offered on line seem to have done their deadly bit. After all, who wants to make a trip to the book shop, hunt for non existent parking, when all you need to do is press a button for a book to download/ order on-line, right? This is a classic case of "big fish eat small fish".
There is a feeling of helplessness, sadness, some minuscule percentage of hope that a miracle will take place. What, exactly, can one hope for anyway? That AAH will open once again in the "swanky new mall". where there will be a coffee shop and toy/ stationery store attached to it? That it will completely lose it's character, amidst all the clothing, shoe and fast food joints in the mall, exactly like what happened to Johns Bakery, some years ago?
Maybe it is better to let things be. When an institution like AAH goes under, despite all efforts, one needs to let it do so with its head high.
Like many others, AAH was an integral part of my formative years and will never be forgotten.
A few months from now, AAH will be laid to rest and I must say "So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye......I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye".
Till then, I will continue to hope for a miracle....
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