The Bibliophile's Pilgrimage

Daryaganj revealed to me the secret of our school libraries that always fascinated me when I was a kid. Now I know from where all those stacks of books came.

When anyone talks about the Daryaganj Book Market, the discourse majorly tends to focus on the jaw dropping cheap rates and the freakishly crazy offers like the one the picture is screaming about. Yet, as I sit down to write today about the place which I now call my pilgrimage, having frequented it regularly over the past three years, the ‘Get Archer/Sheldon/Ludlum at 10/-’ schemes are the last things that come to my mind. There is so much else to the place that I have seen, experienced and enjoyed which, sadly, hardly ever finds mention in the discussions of the people of this money-minded world. Although, truth be told, my first visit to the place was also in pursuit of cheap books. However, since then, the pursuits have altered drastically. 

There are certain reasons which make me refer to my Sunday trips to Daryaganj as my personal pilgrimage. And the first of them is the journey I have to make to that part of the city. Just like a pilgrimage, its arduous, but with its own share of revelations. Besides, calling Daryaganj ‘that part of the city’ might sound particularly odd with the metro squeezing the distances considerably. Yet, the rickshaw rides from the metro station through those narrow streets of Purani Dilli have revealed to me a part of the city that is a world away from the Delhi I have known. It is overcrowded, stinky, a driver’s nightmare and definitely not the cleanest places of earth. But it appears that way to only those who decide to see it that way. The Purani Dilli that I have come to know over the last 3 years from those rickshaw rides is a place full of life, seething with energy, and caught in a time warp with the imposing medieval structures of Jama Masjid and Lal Quila looming over it. Catching glimpse of flocks of birds flying past over the dome of Jama Masjid, as one traverse those narrow roads, has an unmistakable charm of its own, ensuring that my pilgrimage begins with a smile.

The destination of this journey is what makes the journey all the more worth it. But just like every pilgrimage, the real journey here too begins once you reach the destination. For someone who loves books, this space can be an absolute heaven. And that’s what it is to me – a paradise on footpath. The thrill to be surrounded by a mountain of books, books from every corner of earth, and more importantly all affordable books, is inexplicable. That’s why its so different from any book shopping experience, for, I feel, we Indians are not big spenders on books and thus no matter which bookstore we go to, we come out buying only the ones in our ‘budget’. But here, the ‘budget’ assumes a completely new meaning and thus every book appears ‘interesting’. It makes me chuckle when I wonder how the likes of Jeffrey Archer or Danielle Steele would react when they discover that in some part of the world, one dollar would fetch them four hard copies of their works!

But the pilgrim’s progress is never meant to be an easy one. A lesson I learnt from my early visits to the book market was that one can’t plan what books one wants to get. Those who do and stick to those plans, return disappointed. Because, the thumb rule is, as I learned, you don’t find books here, you discover them. After the first visit, I never went with anything in mind and yet always came back with a bag overflowing with books, books that I had no idea even existed but in the course of my walks, I discovered.  And no discovery comes without perseverance. Many people return saying ‘’cheap price, ok but no book of my type.” That's not true. That can't be true. Either they didn’t look hard enough or their type is what is available there on Mars.  There are books for everybody here. In fact, the sheer variety of books that I come across every time I visit Daryaganj leaves me amazed. But the key, as I have understood over years of undertaking this pilgrimage, is perseverance. There may be many pilgrims, but not every pilgrim returns with what he came looking for. You should be willing to scrounge your way to your piece of gold in the heap. You should be ready to walk hours, brave the dust, the dirt, the sun, the crowd, and most importantly the piles of attractive titles that will always challenge you to find the best out of them.

And that’s why a true bibliophile must do this pilgrimage place once alone. Take your time, glance over all the titles, read the description at the back, sit down if need be, bargain. Every bit of this experience has been special to me, and I believe will be the same to any other book lover. The hours of walking with sweat dripping from the brow and a bag packed with books on shoulder don’t tire even a bit. Every single step is a new opportunity, every book a new discovery. Even if one decides to not buy anything (a decision that inevitably fails in my case), one can pass hours walking on those footpaths following on the footsteps of fellow bibliophiles looking at books on myriad of subjects brought from different parts of the world.

And when books don’t suffice or when the intriguing series of explorations and discoveries is threatened by the scorching sun or taste buds demanding to be satiated, then there is the Mehta’s. The Mehta’s is a small eatery that somehow appears to magically bisect the whole market and thus always divides my journey in two legs. This place deserves a special mention for gorging on the delicious Chhole Bhature here has become a ritual of my pilgrimage. And it tastes heavenly! One cannot help but notice how strategically a Café Coffee Day branch has opened just right before it. But then, not too many ‘nayi’ things work out well in purani dilli and the delicious chhole bhature of Mehta’s is too good for anything that CCD serves at double the price.

After three years and innumerable books, every time while on my return journey, I think to myself that probably its my last time. Infact I’m running out of space at my home to accommodate the books. But then a few weeks later comes a Saturday midnight when something mysteriously transpires to compel me to take my pilgrimage again the following morning. And there I am again.. on those bustling paths of my pilgrimage with a smile on face and a song playing through my earphones

Mujhe chhod do mere haal pe…Mujhe chhod do mere haal pe

                                                                      Zinda hoon yaar…kaafi hai...