Every second Sunday I go to the used book sellers on the footpath near Abids. 80 rupees a book, bargain to 60.
My Kindle sits in a drawer, a gift from my brother 3 years ago. It has 2 books on it.
I just can't read on it. I get 10 pages in and my eyes wander to the clock.
With a paper book I can read for 2 hours and not notice my back hurting.
Last month I bought a thick Urdu novel with a cracked spine and someone's name inside the cover.
Imran, 1998, written in blue ink with a drawing of a cricket bat next to it.
I read it over 6 evenings. Page 143 had a dried flower pressed flat. Page 201 had a tea ring.
I don't know who Imran is but it felt like I was borrowing something from him.
You can't get that from a file. Nobody leaves a flower in a PDF.
My nephew says I'm being dramatic and that his tablet holds 300 books. He's right, it does.
But he's finished 2 of them. I've finished 40 since January and the pile on my shelf is leaning.
My mother says I should open a library. I told her I'd need a bigger room.
The shelf is the real problem. It's 1 metre wide, built for 60 books, and it holds 90.
I stacked the rest on top of the fridge, which my mother hates.
Last week I gave 8 away to a neighbour's kid. It hurt more than I expected.
I'll go back to Abids on Sunday anyway. There's a seller who saves things for me.