I first fell in love with a personal library and wood lined bookshelves when my uncle moved back to India to my ancestral home at Fort Kochi. A biochemist by training, the only possessions he cherished were his books, collected over decades of travel across the world. Many read, many unread, many waiting patiently to be picked up, alongside LPs from ages ago, stacked beautifully in shelves made of teak, on the first floor of a huge, wood floored library he created. The ambience, to say the least, was ethereal. I remember spending many a summer in that library, browsing through works I would otherwise have not discovered. Wisdom from classics like the Bhagavad Gita and Sushruta Samahita alongside the magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and the compassion of Abraham Verghese.

That my love wasn't infatuation was reinforced when I first travelled to Vienna and stayed at a friend's place. Much like my uncle, this stocky Austrian man had built a collection that ran into the thousands, once again, stacked on wood, in a room where he'd settle in the evenings with a glass of wine in one hand, a book in another, and devour the many purchases he had accumulated over the years. Through all of my travels there, we'd spend hours at quaint coffee shops in Vienna, and on the odd evening out, at the Plachutta devouring the exotic Tafelspitz every once a while and others at his library discussing books.

Over time, my collection of books has has grown. Not as large as that of the gentlemen I spoke of earlier, but good enough to impress most people who care to walk into my place.

Then the Kindle happened. My brother gifted me one of the earlier editions and my lovely cousin the newer Paperwhite just when for some strange reason my first Kindle was on the verge of going kaput. I transitioned rather effortlessly from physical editions of books to the cheaper and more convenient electronic editions. Reading on the device is a pleasure and the upside is I get to carry my library with me every place I go.

I never thought I'd say this. But the reason I write this post is because I know a part of me that fell in love with a personal, wood lined library has given way to the pragmatic e-book. Just the other day for instance, I was looking up Naseeruddin Shah's new book And Then One Day at a bookstore. The sticker price said Rs 599. I looked up the Kindle edition on my phone and it was 200 bucks cheaper. Much as I would have liked to buy the printed version, I did the logical thing.

If logic were kept aside, I know I'd opt for the printed version. Allow me let  you in on a little secret around why. It's got nothing to do with price and convenience.

Over the years, I've accumulated books and books and then more books. They wait patiently to be picked up on wood lined shelves in every room of my home. Now, the thing is, most people don't read. When they visit me though, what greets them are lines upon lines of books. And one thing I've noticed is when they see my books, the first question they ask of me is: Have you read all of this? I pretentiously answer "yes". But as any bibliophile will tell you, you buy books faster than you can consume them. But people who don't know books, don't know that. They look at me with awe. And I look at them as the poor, illiterate, unwashed masses. At least in my head, it gives me great joy. 

The Kindle, or e-books if you will, is killing one of those simple pleasures.