...where I resort to bitching

In school, we had a well-stocked and spacious library and could borrow up to two books a week. But the bird's nest of a college I go to for the last one year has NO library, NONE. No, I don’t agree to call that a library so no, sorry. I’m starved of reading materials. I can never read something more than once. Many a times, I stooped low, low enough to start reading the newspaper, yes NEWSPAPER. But that didn’t go well. I’m not a fact person. I’m more like a story person. So newspapers are no use to me (except the weather forecast section. I’m an avid weather observer, which is another story.) I sometimes roll one daily up and use it to club cockroaches. But that’s how far it goes really.

So my exams end. And there’s a mad rush towards the bookstores in my vicinity. Target locked: Words ‘N’ Pages.

The good things about this place are:

• It’s a cosy little shop. Colourful and organized.
• There are sitting arrangements and they don’t mind if you sit and read for hours.
• They have a café.

The bad things about this place are: (Go ahead, sue me.)

• One black coffee costs you over 55 bucks. (I’ve had this… little… geeky… rendez-vous… over there… so I know… Again, another story.)
• They claim their books are cheaper than their expensive counterparts in ETC. But that’s not true. Example, Stephen King’s Thinner costs 5 bucks more in WNP. Hah!
• There are virtually NO good books over here. Brick Lane? Sold out. Da Vinci Code? Sold out. Their collection is lame! And the bespectacled book-sellers pretend they know so much, with a stale cup of coffee in hand, talking about God-knows-what when I clearly stated in short sentences so they'll understand me: I want. Fiction. Good language. Doesn’t have to be a detective or a thriller. No I have not read Muswhatever and Gilwhatever OH WILL YOU STOP TALKING THAT WAY --WHAT---WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM-- I DON’T FREAKIN’ WANT A FREAKIN’ DETECTIVE THRILLER YOU CRAZY HOBO---WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SAY? THAT THERE'S A FISH IN YOUR COFFEE CUP AND YOU WANT ME TO CATCH IT? COOK IT FOR YOU??-- WILL YOU SHUT IT OR DO I START A BRAIN SURGERY????

Next stop: ETC. I just had to buy something, even if it’s the biography of a poor little boy becoming a president. The salesmen can’t help me because none of the books I ask them to search for is available. None of them are book worms either so they had no suggestions. Then, I see this girl, the one other person in the books section, and although I stay miles away from species Homo Childrenus, I talk to this one.

“Hi. What are you looking for?” I ask her.
“Uhm, nothing, just looking?”
“Yeah I’m looking too. I’ve been looking for an hour!”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something good, fiction. See my vacation’s started and I am DYING to read something. But I can’t decide on what to buy from here.”
“Me neither.”
“The book-sellers can’t help me here. So what sort are you looking for?”
“Uhm fiction?”
“Right. You want me to suggest some?”
“Yeah sure.”
“How old are you anyway?” She’s half my height.
“I’m twelve.”
“Class….. six right?”
“Right.”
“Well let’s see… Agatha Christie is good but she’s too complicated. I don't understand.. Where are all the Roald Dahls? Hey there’s a children’s section over there!"

A book with a bold title “How to Pee” stares back at us. The kid doesn’t look too hopeful. But she thanks me anyway.

She says, “My sister could have helped you.”
“She’s my age?”
“Yeah, just about.”
“I guess that’s not her.” I look at a woman who was yapping loudly into her cell phone in English.
“No, that’s my mom. You heard of Phillip Pullman? Ruby something?”
“Yeah. Really good stuff. If you have an older sister, why don’t borrow books from her?”
“Well, she says those are too grown-up for me.”
“What Phillip Pullman too grown-up? Nah. He is amazing.”
“Hey my sister reads Sidney Sheldon too. Have you read those?”
“Didn’t yet.. I’m not sure I'll like it. Oh but THOSE maybe a little too grown up for you.”

In the end, I wind up buying War and Peace. And then my sister makes me swap it for four smaller mysteries. Stephen King, Sidney Sheldon, and two Agatha Christies. Thank God.

One advice. In both bookshops, they’re going to persuade you to buy Anne Rule, Minette Walters, Robin Cook, Anne Rice and the likes but resist yourself. Build up mental strength, wear a halter, or a reflective tin hat for protection against their hallucination skills but just don’t buy those. They are mere narrations of real life incidents, the possessive-wife-murders-husband sort. Newspaper between two hard-covers. Oh and Robin Cook writes fantasies but he sucks.