Of an astonishing marvel

 
By Vijay Phanshikar
Both grow
A book, a friend
In depth, in warmth ! 

OF COURSE, this is a universal experience. Yet, the marvel of both -- of the book and of the friend -- never ceases to astonish everybody. What astonishes more is how a truly good book assumes greater depth with each reading. A true friend, too, grows in his/her warmth, all right. But that is understandable with a human being. The book is different -- non-human, so to say. Yet, in its depth it keeps growing -- as if it has unstated human dimensions. Every book engages the reader in a conversation. With time, that conversation gets more intense -- if it invites the reader to keep returning to its pages. There are not many books that assume such a persona, such an importance, all right. But then, there also are not many people who become true friends.

 

Don’t we know that huge numbers of people among us have no friends at all. They would never know what a friend means and how he/she grows in warmth. And then, there also are people who really never read books seriously and never come up with one book as the greatest they have come across. They, too, would never know how the book also grows in depth at each visitation. One must talk more about books that one finds good enough to be read again and again.

 

There can be many such books -- of any subject, or any genre like prose or poetry or fiction or non-fiction or essays or studies -- that would magnetise the reader toward them. Those books bring to fore different shades of thought or idea they embody in their pages between covers. Each time you read those books, you realise that you have understood something different and more exciting or rewarding, delved into some meaning that had not occurred to you before. This need not happen only with poetry books; any book on any subject can offer you such joy repeatedly. Yes, absolutely any book on any subject -- provided you fall in love with what the book deals with. A friend’s growing warmth has often found place and space in poetry and fiction. But the book is different. It is non-human, or inanimate -- as many would tend to say. But then, some book assume a near-human persona in your mind.

 

They converse with you, they argue with you, they fight with you, they challenge your senses, they tousle your hair, they ruffle your calm, they muffle your sobs -- or bring your grief out...! Yet, very few people find such a book good enough as a subject to write upon. But the book does not mind. Of course, the book has a mind of its own, a personality of its own, a purpose of life of its own. And to countless in the world in all times, books have proved to be possibly the best friends -- particularly if they have no human friends as such. The common experience is that the friend called the book never complains, never cribs. It is always ready to welcome you. You open the covers, and it opens its arms to embrace you -- and absorb you into its depth that keeps growing with each visit. And as all of us know, a friend also reads like a book in time, with time, each time revealing something newer and finer. He/she grows in warmth. The book grows in depth.