#3 Starshot

3 June, 16


“T! where are we going today?”

I asked in partial wakefulness, rubbing my eyes vigorously.

“South City, I’d heard?”, T answered as she waded through the bed sheets and side pillows.

“Oh great! Starmark, I love that place!” shrieked I.

“oh of course you do. But now you won’t. Classicism has flown away.” T grins, and smirks slyly. “They have doubled up the prices of almost everything”. T rose up, looking for her glasses.

“Bad”, I tried to mean it without looking funny with mouth stuffed with toothbrush.

“Yea! Also, it has ONLY books these days”, she cried through her towel.

“Best!” I had fireworks in my imagining myself at Starmark. Thousand loves. That’s, that’s the best thing to even the clumsiest bookworm on the Earth: An 8000sqmt area, all lined up on books!

“I know. And they charge you excessively high.” T, in her sly-smile best.

“Oh, that’s bad!” My 8000sqmt fort  reduced to a to-buy list.

“Yet more for you. Can you wait to see?”

Of course. I wait desperately for 326 days to have 30 days of complete paper-light vacations with cousins.


Holy Heaven! T was right! SM has indeed turned into a sort of Crossword now, only with a small receding patchy section for DVDs and stationery. One could still read books at Crossword, till half, till one could feel that it’s impossible to leave the store without getting this book in the hand, knowing that one has already begun to grow with it, and with the book on oneself; till you’re in sixty feet deep love for that book. SM, on the other hand wouldn’t let you go beyond the introduction part, by shooting their dart-like looks at you, forcing you to stop turning the page or it is going to handle such persistent customers in its own way. Friendly, but not so friendly.

I picked up a few titles, seated myself on the same yellow couch that used to be in the kids’ section until four years ago. After reading the entry on the backcovers and estimating what better deals I could find at College Street, I placed them back pretty sincerely. Three books- clean five minutes each. No darts thrown.


Sitting in my room, today, as I type out this blog post on older date, I hear doorbell hit furiously. Standing outside is a delivery man, holding the parcel containing those books that I finally ordered online because although I had got hold of at CS, we found them too bulky to pack back to home.


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