At the DLF I developed special bibliophile’s biceps carrying bags of books that I bought from the many bookstalls at the Bangla Academy premises.At the DLF I developed special bibliophile’s biceps carrying bags of books that I bought from the many bookstalls at the Bangla Academy premises. My mind bubbled and simmered for weeks with these books, wanting to write my impressions for my column. But it was not easy to extricate myself from the miasma that is socializing in Dhaka in December. As for most of January, the delights of grand-parenting took me away to Bangkok, where I gladly sent to pasture any literary desires I might have had beyond reading aloud to my year-old grandson certain gems of children’s literature, such as, Fiona Watt’s That’s not my Monster! or Cressida Cowell’s Hiccup the Viking Who Was Seasick, or the classic, The Cat in the Hat written and illustrated by Theodor Giessel under his better known nom de plume, Dr Seuss. I also learned from my grandson the art of critical book-shelf rearranging. From his shelf in the nursery, he regularly tossed out a dozen books, and even in play, I noticed that those books that he disfavored he never went back to. I have to learn to similarly strengthen my resolve to finally toss out some books from my library, like War and Peace, and accept the fact that I will never read it. Books and book spaces go hand in hand. I discovered with delight the Open House on the 6th floor of Central Embassy in Bangkok. The elevated world above the teeming Bangkok streets, with its airy, sprawling floors and soaring ceilings, the giant book cases and sunken reading areas, the restaurants and galleries, the dining areas, playgrounds, the greenery, the shimmering views from floor-length glass windows, the live music punctuated by silence, the sense of freedom as if we were in a leafy park atop a cement jungle, made me envious and wishful for such a space in Dhaka. If wishes were horses, every city would have a place to dream, books in hand. As for now, I realize that I’ll have to wait to return to the tranquillity of my other home in Italy to find time to read, and to write about the books that are already stomping to canter into my column. Till then, I’m still in Dhaka and reining in my creativity with small doses of light or inspirational reading in traffic-stalled cars, such as Ben Okri’s slim collection of poetic essays A Time for New Dreams. And so, till next time: Tally-ho!
Neeman Sobhan is a writer, poet and columnist. She lives in Italy and teaches at the University of Rome. Her published works include a collection of her columns, An Abiding City: Ruminations from Rome (UPL); an anthology of short stories, Piazza Bangladesh (Bengal Publications); a collection of poems, Calligraphy of Wet Leaves (Bengal Lights).
