NBS (BH:D256)

April 17, 2012

On Friday, while walking from the accountant to the bank, I had noticed the virtually unnoticeable National Book Stall squeezed between a hotel and a bank across from the gate of the old government Secretariat that is well known for the regular violent clashes between the police and the protesters.

Yesterday morning, after yet another and hopefully final visit to the bank to get a credit card, I went into this NBS shop.

The oldest proper books, as in not the illustrated comics kind, that I remember reading are from my paternal uncle's home library in our ancestral home. Almost all of them had the classy NBS swan logo with the B forming the wing and N the tail. I had read Malayalam translations of Edgar Rice Burrough's Tarzan. And forever that made Tarzan, Jane and the lovely apes, Malayalees for me. Uncle's collection also had translations of Bengali and Hindi detective pulp fiction. Stuff that opened with enticing lines like, "Bang....a gunshot!" 

Memories are a good thing to carry into the NBS book store. The place is dimly lit, cluttered, disordered and dusty. A 50-something lady who satisfied the quintessential small town government school headmistress image was busy writing on a huge ledger book at the front desk. It was the only unoccuped desk in the shop, beside the entrance to the left. Though I was the only customer, she took great pains in ignoring me. 

A mundu-clad younger man was busying himself carrying stacks of books from one room to the other. A much friendly toothy welcome smile from him. The shop is like a three layer dungeon. Thanks to the door and couple of glass windows, the front room is well lit. It holds the poetry session on a row of standing shelves, two desks and wall display panels. There is barely space for one person to move about between them. 

Light from the front room barely manages to filter into the second room through the straight arch opening. This is the beginning of the dust kingdom. Communist books to the left to start with. Relatively dust free ones on the upper shelves. Bending down, we come face to face with unopened stacks of thickly dust coated older books. Old gems still with the 1980s price tag in the Rs. 20-30 range with hardbound ones making it into the then expensive Rs. 50 category. The communism section seamlessly melts into the religion section. 

Found the first, third and fourth days of Nalacharitham Aattakatha in this section. The story of Nala, in Kathakali format, attributed to Unnayi Warrier, is performed traditional over four consecutive nights though they are called "days". I had found a copy of the "Second Day" on Friday at Bhasha Institute book shop. Blowing the dust away from these copies of the other days, heartening discovery that they were in the 20-30 range. 

Travelogues, spirituality, drama and children's books occupy rest of the shelves and obstructing desks in the room. Found N. P. Chellappan Nair's scathing political satire from 1960, "Ebileesukkalude Nattil" there.

The third room is straight out of some ghostly horror movie set. Cobwebs add drama to the eons of dust. Dust that has gathered dust. There are glass panes high on the side walls that once might have been meant as ventilators. Now buildings on either side, virtually sharing the wall, have reduced them to the role of noise filters. I guessed that some restaurant or tea stall kitchen operated next door. 

Despite the fear of dust allergy, I was drawn in by a handicapped "50% off" cardboard skeleton of a display that precariously hung from one of the shelves. I have always found collectible books under such reduced tags. The final cave of NBS did not disappoint. English translation of Kalidasa's RithuSamhara and Meghadutta for 50 bucks. Sweet!

Spent a good 10 minutes in that neglected cavern of forgotten literary pursuits. No idea what will the ultimate fate of these books be. The book shop, mostly because of the location, will manage to putter along for another decade for sure. The NBS publishing house continues to churn out outstanding works in Malayalam, so their future seems pretty safe. 

In the well-lit poetry section, I picked up "Pathittandinte Kavitha" (Poetry of the decade), an anthology of Malayalam poems in the last decade edited by the accomplished scholar and poet, Ezhachery Ramachandran. Fairly good haul for 300 bucks. Good use of the Vishu "Kaineettam" gift money! 

While preparing the bill, the woman at the counter slips in "NBS Bulletin", the thin magazine that contains reviews (glowing ones, of course) of recent NBS publications. Browsed through it on the bus on the way back home. One of the reviews of a new Children's literature work rues the impersonal, unattached, child-rearing practices of the Western world infiltrating Kerala. I wonder if the writer had ever been to the West and how many friends he has there whose child-rearing practises he has personally witnessed!

Ignorant xenophobic cliches are pathetically license-free in this land. 

The "Western" monster is the strawman to which Malayalees happily latch their insecurities, inhibitions, greed and jealousies.