Withdrawal symptoms

I am feeling empty. As I always do after finishing a great book. An emptiness which comes from the fact that the book is over and there is n...

I am feeling empty. As I always do after finishing a great book. An emptiness which comes from the fact that the book is over and there is no more to read and a certainty that for many days, if not weeks, there will be nothing as good to read. It is not that there aren8217;t many great books in the world. It8217;s just that a book may well be great but it might not be great for you. And to be great a book has to make a connection with you and that does not happen as often as desired.

I have just finished reading Amitav Ghosh8217;s The Hungry Tide and am frankly mesmerised. The story he builds in the backdrop of the Sunderbans 8212; the tide country 8212; is riveting and the Sunderbans picturised by him enchanting, man eaters, muggar and all. I have read Ghosh before and had particularly loved his Calcutta Chromosome but he has with this book clearly excelled himself and now what remains is nothing 8212; just emptiness.

I decide to go to a bookshop on the theory that when a dog dies one must get another. I saunter to Oxford Book Shop, down the road from my house and ask for a Amitav Ghosh. I am told he is in the bookshop and Rahul Bose is doing a book reading of The Hungry Tide.

By this time, the reading is over but Ghosh is there signing autographs. I immediately go up to him and compliment him for a superb book telling him that what I liked most about it was the fact that it was unsentimental. In the next breath I remonstrate with him for killing off one of the principal characters towards the end. He is a bit taken aback by my enthusiasm but takes it in his stride with some off hand comment. Then somebody thrusts a microphone into his hand and asks him as to how he is so prolific. He protests and says he is not prolific at all and tells the person that he takes up to four years to finish a book. I start feeling depressed again. My god, four years before the next book.

Then I ask him how it is going with the New Yorker and whether he is going to sue them for publishing an article with cuts which he had specifically disapproved of. He brushes my query aside. It8217;s all sorted out with the New Yorker, he laughs. I wonder again about the power of the magazine. I tell him that next time he is in Mumbai he must get in touch. He says that he does not come here very often. I say that he should, considering that it is a city more interesting than Kolkata. He says he will give it a thought. Then he is shepherded away for an interview.

I like him well enough but am reminded of the comment of George Mikes, the humorist, who said that you might love the duck soup but might not find meeting the duck very interesting. I then ponder about how I am going to solve the problem of the emptiness I feel.