Passing on a book for posterity

On a recent trip to Sri Lanka, I spent my final days in the historic city of Galle along its southwest coast. In one of the old Dutch manors converted into a boutique hotel where I stayed, I ended up losing myself in the hotel’s library which was made up of a motley of books left behind by travellers like me.

As my departure approached, I realised that I would be robbing myself of happiness if I too did not leave behind a book of my own for the small library that gave me company. And so, without giving it a second thought, I opened the only book that I could find in my bag — a collection of travel stories by eminent writers from across the world and edited by Ruskin Bond — and penned a short message for all future travellers who might end up reading my book.

This was perhaps the first time that I voluntarily parted with a book, and that too one that I had not yet finished, but something about leaving it behind felt very right.

Over time, I have parted with many books — most of them involuntarily, unfortunately. Because of my love of books, I never refuse lending a book from my humble library to anyone who asks for it. But sadly, very few people return them. And even though I have lost some precious, author-signed copies in the process, I still never refuse to lend a book to anyone who asks for it.

But leaving behind my book in Sri Lanka felt exhilarating! There’s something profound when I think that a stranger would read the book I left behind. Who would be its readers, I wondered. Which country would they be from? And how would they react to the short message I had scribbled on the first page? Would they enjoy reading the book? Would they relate to the parts that left a mark on me? In the flurry of these questions, I realised that the whole point of reading is that everyone relates to books in their own ways.

A few years ago in Colombia, I gave a Rs 10 currency note to a Venezuelan immigrant who was waiting tables. When he saw that I was from India, he mentioned his fascination with Mahatma Gandhi and I gifted him the only Indian currency I had at the moment — a Rs 10 note — as something to remember our short acquaintance. Ever since, I have started carrying small Indian currency notes as souvenirs for people I meet while visiting a new country.

This year, after the experience of leaving behind Ruskin Bond’s book in Galle, I have added another item to my list — leaving behind a book that I love in a part of the cities that I get to visit. This way, my adventures shall continue long after my feet are back home.