Masterji meets Jim

I noticed him on my regular evening visits to the park. He sat with a book in a corner of a bench oblivious to the shouts of children around...

I noticed him on my regular evening visits to the park. He sat with a book in a corner of a bench oblivious to the shouts of children around him. A voracious reader myself, I was curious to know what books he was reading.

Then one day I got my chance. I saw him read the last page and put the book aside with a sigh. Glancing at the title, I sat down beside him. 8220;Miserable weather!8221; he muttered. I did not know whether the remark had been addressed to me but I replied anyway, 8220;Oh! I don8217;t know. There is neither misery nor happiness in this world. There is but the state of comparison8230;8221; He almost jumped out of his corner. The wrinkled face lit up with a smile. 8220;Ah! Alexandre Dumas8217; The Count of Monte Cristo 8230; my favourite book!8221; Since he had just finished reading the novel, I concluded he had either read it for the umpteenth time or he got carried away every time he read a book.

He was remarkably subjective about the novels he read. That had been The Alexandre Dumas Week. The next saw his heart in Dickens8217; keeping, to be salvaged only when I lent him a Thomas Hardy. That fortnight saw him very morose and brooding and the weather had never been worse!

The next time he was huddled in his 8220;corner8221;, nearing the end of Crime and Punishment. 8220;Dear God!8221; mumbled the tortured soul. I launched on a sermon on the need for objectivity while reading books. My futile attempt was interspersed with several 8220;Oh my Gods8221; from him.

The following evening I went armed with Mark Twain8217;s Huckleberry Finn. He had managed to get hold of Cancer Ward and was holding his handkerchief to his nose to ward off the strong stench of antiseptic! 8220;These Russian authors!8221; he burst out, 8220;What realism! I have almost forgotten Bhookh 8212; that beautiful Hindi novel written in the backdrop of the Bengal famine! Kept me awake three nights!8221; He was a Hindi teacher before retiring a few years ago. I knew what was coming next, 8220;You remember that memorable scene in which the schoolmaster chews on the quinine tablet he discovers in a drawer relishing every little grain of it?8221; I did, and I still felt he should read Huckleberry Finn!

One week later he brought Huckleberry Finn back and said, 8220;You know Peter Coveney is right in the introduction. Twain8217;s talent was uneven!8221; 8220;Who says talent is ever supposed to run even?8221; I retorted. 8220;And Huckleberry Finn8230;8221;, he began. I did not allow him to finish! 8220;You!8221; I exclaimed, because the situation demanded sternness, 8220;you dasn8217;t say one word agin my bes8217;fren in de8217;hole world Huck Finn!!8221; 8220;Aha!8221; his eyes gleamed, 8220;I always did want to know which book was your favourite!8217;8217;

Now 8220;Masterji8221; calls me 8220;Jim8221;!