From Tagore to Shakespeare, Thakumar Jhuli to Harry Potter, we read everything. Almost every household has the full set of Rabindrarachanabali. And again we discuss Pamuk and Murakami. Lazy Sunday afternoons here are for reading the literary section of the newspaper. Stylish bookstore chains co-exist in the city with the famous ‘boi-para’ of old narrow College St. Publishing new novels and stories in the Pujabarshiki collection is a major element of the city’s celebrating its greatest festival, the Durga puja. Every person at least once in their lifetime has tried their hands in writing poetry. Proud of our rich literature, we are also open to enjoy the world literature. We love books. We love reading. Therefore, it is no wonder for a city, where people are ‘crazy’ and impulsive, who love reading and celebrating, to celebrate with books. ‘Kolkata Boimela’ or ‘Kolkata Book Fair’ is undoubtedly the biggest festival in the city after the Durga Puja. And every year we wait for it impatiently.
World’s largest non-trade book fair is therefore my very own and most loved Kolkata Boimela. Organized by the Publishers and Book Sellers’ Guild this book fair is the talk of the town in winter Kolkata. Along with the home publishers, several foreign publishers and countries participate. Each year there is a theme country with focus on its literature. All afternoons are full of interesting lectures, discussions, debate, and book reading etc programs in the auditorium. Every face smiles, every hand holds a few of newly bought books. It is not a fair, it is a celebration.
I do not have ‘the very first memory’ of book fair. It is such a constant part of my life that I do not remember the beginning. It has always been there, as simple as that. Winter to me is synonymous with the book fair, and I would wait for the January end. The huge Maidan ground, packed crowds, the maze of alleys, and rows of stalls, these are my memories. I would look with awe and confusion to the lofty gates decorated in the theme of the fair. I would get a map of the fair that I never knew how to use when I was little. It did not matter also. I would love to go inside every pavilion, an impossible task. Inside each pavilion is a little fairyland of books. And books. And more books. Everywhere it smells of new books. Little me would touch the glossy covers, and read each title. From dictionaries to comics, from fairytales to textbooks, for children and for adult, books are there for everyone and on each subject one can name. Outside there are individuals selling ‘little magazines’, groups of budding poets and authors coming together to share their literary work in their little independent efforts. There is that corner of artists. Those beautiful displays of their paintings always used to captivate me for minutes. I love the long lines to enter the pavilions of the famous publishers. If you are tired from all the walk, grab some tasty snacks at the food court and then again get absorbed in world of books.
Each year I would buy several fairytales and folk tales collections from different countries. I would buy a few art and craft, drawing books. Buying one Tintin comics was must. Slowly I started reading stories for children that paved the way for novels. My first English novel, David Copperfield, was bought in the book fair. And I started reading the treasures of literature. My ‘books to buy’ list changed from fairy tales to novels and serious non-fictions, but the story remained same. Each year I returned home satisfied and tired with bags full of books. I inscribed onto the first pages of each book my name, ‘Book fair’, and the year. And while doing so I dreamt of the happy hours I would spend enjoying them.
Each year I was at the book fair from as long as I remember. It was a happy part of my growing up. And then I left the city in 2004. I again could visit only in 2008 and last year 2010. In all these years many things changed. The venue is moved from Maidan to Milan Mela Prangan. But the charm still remained same. The same crowd, the same land of books, and the same magic.
It is not that books are relatively cheaper here. The discounts in the book district are often better than here. It is not that one does not get the same books outside in shops. But then, individual shops cannot make the atmosphere of celebration. It is a festival, this book fair. A happy celebration of our love for books. Therefore, we come in groups and come alone. We look through books and attend some interesting event. Maybe by chance meet our favorite author. Pick up a good little magazine. Listen to recitations and music. Smell the books, feel them. Check out the newly published ones. Parents bring little one to feel the atmosphere and get into habit of reading. Serious readers come to look through all the books and find little treasures. Some of us note down titles of books to buy later. Most of us buy there at the fair. And when tired we sit around enjoying the happy winter sun with friends and family. And someone like me, who cannot attend it anymore every year, miss it and feel a bit jealous of her friends. And those rare years, when they can go, it is for them a journey down the memory lane.
For a bookworm like me, Kolkata Book fair is the best place to be.
It is going on there now in the city. I miss it so much. Maybe 2012…
World’s largest non-trade book fair is therefore my very own and most loved Kolkata Boimela. Organized by the Publishers and Book Sellers’ Guild this book fair is the talk of the town in winter Kolkata. Along with the home publishers, several foreign publishers and countries participate. Each year there is a theme country with focus on its literature. All afternoons are full of interesting lectures, discussions, debate, and book reading etc programs in the auditorium. Every face smiles, every hand holds a few of newly bought books. It is not a fair, it is a celebration.
I do not have ‘the very first memory’ of book fair. It is such a constant part of my life that I do not remember the beginning. It has always been there, as simple as that. Winter to me is synonymous with the book fair, and I would wait for the January end. The huge Maidan ground, packed crowds, the maze of alleys, and rows of stalls, these are my memories. I would look with awe and confusion to the lofty gates decorated in the theme of the fair. I would get a map of the fair that I never knew how to use when I was little. It did not matter also. I would love to go inside every pavilion, an impossible task. Inside each pavilion is a little fairyland of books. And books. And more books. Everywhere it smells of new books. Little me would touch the glossy covers, and read each title. From dictionaries to comics, from fairytales to textbooks, for children and for adult, books are there for everyone and on each subject one can name. Outside there are individuals selling ‘little magazines’, groups of budding poets and authors coming together to share their literary work in their little independent efforts. There is that corner of artists. Those beautiful displays of their paintings always used to captivate me for minutes. I love the long lines to enter the pavilions of the famous publishers. If you are tired from all the walk, grab some tasty snacks at the food court and then again get absorbed in world of books.
Each year I would buy several fairytales and folk tales collections from different countries. I would buy a few art and craft, drawing books. Buying one Tintin comics was must. Slowly I started reading stories for children that paved the way for novels. My first English novel, David Copperfield, was bought in the book fair. And I started reading the treasures of literature. My ‘books to buy’ list changed from fairy tales to novels and serious non-fictions, but the story remained same. Each year I returned home satisfied and tired with bags full of books. I inscribed onto the first pages of each book my name, ‘Book fair’, and the year. And while doing so I dreamt of the happy hours I would spend enjoying them.
Each year I was at the book fair from as long as I remember. It was a happy part of my growing up. And then I left the city in 2004. I again could visit only in 2008 and last year 2010. In all these years many things changed. The venue is moved from Maidan to Milan Mela Prangan. But the charm still remained same. The same crowd, the same land of books, and the same magic.
It is not that books are relatively cheaper here. The discounts in the book district are often better than here. It is not that one does not get the same books outside in shops. But then, individual shops cannot make the atmosphere of celebration. It is a festival, this book fair. A happy celebration of our love for books. Therefore, we come in groups and come alone. We look through books and attend some interesting event. Maybe by chance meet our favorite author. Pick up a good little magazine. Listen to recitations and music. Smell the books, feel them. Check out the newly published ones. Parents bring little one to feel the atmosphere and get into habit of reading. Serious readers come to look through all the books and find little treasures. Some of us note down titles of books to buy later. Most of us buy there at the fair. And when tired we sit around enjoying the happy winter sun with friends and family. And someone like me, who cannot attend it anymore every year, miss it and feel a bit jealous of her friends. And those rare years, when they can go, it is for them a journey down the memory lane.
For a bookworm like me, Kolkata Book fair is the best place to be.
It is going on there now in the city. I miss it so much. Maybe 2012…
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