March 30, 1998

Old and dust-coated books are valued companions for these bibliophiles.

By Sheela Raval

Piles of books, yellowed with age, at second-hand bookshops of Mumbai's Kalbhadevi could as well be some urban effluent, fit only for disposal. For a seemingly eccentric group of people, however, it is from such piles of dust-coated trash (a sepia-toned and tattered book, for instance) that a new world will emerge.

Meet the thriving band of book lovers which cannot pass by a dog-eared volume without weighing its worth. Aroon Tikekar, editor of the Marathi daily Loksatta, has over 15,000 books in his massive study, a substantial chunk of which are valuable antiques. "I can't imagine my life without my personal library," he says.

Neither can journalist M.V. Kamath or Dr Ashok Kothari or Nazir N. Patel, director of cultural affairs, Maharashtra -- all of whom have over 10,000 books which keep growing in Malthusian proportions. If you are looking for a 16th century book of anonymous poems or an 1813 edition of the History of East India Company or Travels in China (1869) in Gujarati by Damoadar Eswardas, these might be some of the people you could turn to.

If Tikekar started collecting books 25 years ago, primarily to help research his pet subject the erstwhile Bombay Presidency, Patel got hooked after he read The Old Man And The Sea. Patel picked up books from old bookshops in remote towns of Maharashtra while he served there as subdivisional magistrate and collector. Tikekar's collection of books on Mumbai are a real treasure trove: History of the Bombay City Police by Edwardes, Shells from Sands of Bombay by Dinshaw Wacha and books on trivia and history fight for space on his shelves. "Some day our house will turn into a big reference library. You will see nothing but books everywhere," says his wife Manisha with a smile.

Businessman Dhirubhai Haria is more choosy. He collects only oriental art books which he digs out from the trash of the local raddi shops. "Whatever is precious to me could be trash for the common people. They think I am crazy to collect old discarded books, so they sometimes give them to me free." Book collectors do not have the panache or the cash that art collectors have but they pursue a more esoteric hobby. They have a whole universe of books to choose from and making the right choice means everything to them. Though many have a fetish for certain subjects, they will not let go a book which has an antique value or a leather-bound first edition. "Books symbolise happiness, peace and love to me and they are my all-time companions," says Kamath, who has donated over 10,000 books to Manipal University.

Though most of the old books come at a throwaway price, all genuine collectors have spent a fortune over the years to indulge in their passion. Patel and Tikekar spend almost 10 per cent of their salary on books. Kothari once paid Rs 6,000 for an 1885 book of illustrations called Parrots in Captivity. Torn by remorse and guilt at having splurged on a single book, he sold it to a friend in London for the same price. A few years later, by sheer coincidence, he saw some of the illustrations from the book on the wall (collectors usually value books of lithographs because of the price they can fetch) of a reputed hotel in London. "I made a mistake. I now collect only for myself or for the Bombay Natural History Society library, of which I am an executive membe," says Kothari.

Preserving books also calls for time and energy, if not money. Manisha's sinus gets activated each time she dusts the sprawling bookshelves in her house. Patel believes in chemical preservation and Kothari keeps books in airtight glass cupboards.

Whatever the technique involved or chemicals used, book lovers will vouch that books are ultimately preserved in the inner recess of the mind.

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