{"id":1196,"date":"2018-01-23T22:46:41","date_gmt":"2018-01-23T17:16:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/museumofmaterialmemory.com\/?p=1196"},"modified":"2018-02-06T16:33:53","modified_gmt":"2018-02-06T11:03:53","slug":"the-inheritance-of-paperbacks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/museumofmaterialmemory.com\/the-inheritance-of-paperbacks\/","title":{"rendered":"The inheritance of paperbacks"},"content":{"rendered":"

TEXT BY ESHA MAHAJAN
\nPHOTOS\u00a0BY AANCHAL MALHOTRA
\n<\/strong>New Delhi, India<\/em><\/p>\n

Growing up, I often spent afternoons rummaging through forgotten drawers and cupboards in my home. Who knew what I could find? Most often, it was in search of books. Glimpses of a past I hadn\u2019t seen, but experienced in a small way through stained, faded pages. My father\u2019s collection of comics\u2014Archie<\/i>,\u00a0Richie Rich<\/i>,\u00a0Little Lotta<\/i>; my mother\u2019s books from college, from\u00a0Catcher in the Rye<\/i>\u00a0to volumes of poetry; and, of course, my grandfather\u2019s novels, which I was too young to appreciate while he was still alive. When we moved home (I was perhaps 12), many of these got lost in the chaos, but some we carried with us. And now, in my own shelves, these old copies take centre stage.<\/p>\n

\"L-
L- a book of poems belonging to Shelley Mahajan, R- A copy of the Godfather, belonging to her grandfather, D.D Mahajan, both heavily inscribed and annotated with notes.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

When I first stumbled upon books that belonged to my mother, books she bought and read and annotated and kept before she was married – before she became my mother – my first reaction was of surprise. The titles were so unexpected. But slowly, sometimes, they made sense. Her copy of\u00a0To Sir With Love\u00a0<\/i>(1982), for instance, reminded me of the song she would sing to my siblings and I when we were growing up. Others, like a furiously marked collection of Wordsworth poems (undated, but from the 1970s), baffled me. They pointed to a person I didn\u2019t recognize. I had only ever known her to read the likes of Robin Sharma and Louise Hay\u2014who was this other woman? Perhaps we weren\u2019t so different after all.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t have the privilege to read my paternal grandfather D.D Mahajan’s worn-down books while he was still with us. But I have solace that I may have, at least, inherited my love of reading from him. And if I did, perhaps there\u2019s more of him in me than I realize, waiting to be discovered. Sometimes I marvel at how relevant certain books still are. Now\u00a0I\u2019m tempted to pick up\u00a0Mein Kampf\u00a0<\/i>(1988), because power struggles and divisive political ideologies are, unfortunately, not mere relics of the past.<\/p>\n