Enlightenment comes when you least expect it. When a cousin invited me to her musical concert to be held at the Kolkata International Book Fair, I was excited; it would be like killing two birds with one stone. Attending the concert was a priority this time, though I would have liked browsing the bookstalls; that pleasure would have to take a back seat, I realised. But what about the food stalls crying out for attention? With fast food tempting the hunger pangs and taste buds of visitors like me, they could not be ignored! And thereby hangs a tale.

Republic Day being a holiday, found me setting out at a brisk pace towards the book fair grounds situated close to where I live. I was suitably clad to beat the cold, my coat and woollen cap providing the much-coveted warmth against the winter chill, which the mellow setting sun did little to alleviate. It was a long walk to the fair, and twenty minutes later, warm as a toast and as keen a music lover as I could be, I made my way to the pavilion where my cousin’s concert was going to be held. She had specified the time as 5 p.m., but there was already a song-recital in progress, so I gauged that my cousin’s programme would be late in starting. After our hellos and handshakes with the members of her group, we exchanged pleasantries, and the ambiance was the perfect setting for socialising.

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I had another mission to accomplish. I had been instructed to carry back home some snacks, which was common knowledge of being sold with gusto at the fair, recording more footfalls nowadays than the book stalls. So, expressing my wish to roam around the fairgrounds before the commencement of her song recital, I eagerly set off in search of a tea stall to savour the mood with a cup or two.

Sadly, I did not find one in my search. Instead, I was directed to a snack bar where one was spoilt for choice with the range on offer. There were steamed chicken momos, fish fries, chicken cutlets, and sheek kebabs; the list was endless. The line was endless, too, with people trying to jump the queue. Moreover, the shopkeeper, his attendants, and the customers were yelling to be heard amidst the din. The din was caused by loudspeakers blaring songs and various pavilions belting out their music. I was in a fix. On the one hand, there was the temptation to tuck into fish fries and kebabs, although at a later time in the comfort of my home. On the other hand, there was an urgency to return to my cousin’s pavilion, where the concert would begin any minute.

I felt terrible, anxiety engulfing me in flames of guilt as I stood in the queue to procure the items. I needed to pay and run to be on time for her programme but could not get rid of my feeling of guilt, which was directly proportional to my angst. Strangely, the guilt stemmed from the fact that I was in the wrong place, as I did not spare even a tiny glance towards the book stalls. And, to make matters worse, I lost my way on my way back.

Those few minutes were the most enlightening in my life. It is amazing how enlightenment can be achieved while going around in circles in a crowded, noisy fair and does not require sitting under the Bodhi tree to attain it!

The book fair held in Kolkata is a tremendous crowd-puller. The neatly arranged stalls of books under the banner of their publishing houses are nothing short of a reader’s haven. After entering its precincts, book lovers promptly lose themselves in browsing, discussing, and patronising a particular author over others or placing orders for their favourite copies. In its early days too, a book fair was a reader’s paradise, and I remember how the quickening of my pulse as I approached my favourite publishing house tangoed with whatever was being blared over the loudspeaker, sometimes soft strains of the shehnai relaxing me.

The vicissitudes of time, however, have witnessed a change in how people perceive these fairs. For example, a book fair is not quintessentially a fair, but to break the monotony, there have been other forms of entertainment to sustain the magic, like gifted craftsmen crafting figures on a grain of rice or artists giving shape to their fancies on canvas, and of course, the provisions for simple refreshments characterised by the samosa to be enjoyed with steaming cups of tea! Those were the days of simple pleasures where reading books, buying books, or even chatting with like-minded people were all that mattered.

Sadly, the picture has changed a decade or so later. Today, various forms of entertainment run parallel to serenading the writers and their creations, which range from a novel of ample proportions, a novella, and a cookbook to even a travelogue. Moreover, nowadays, music claims a huge slice of people’s interests. To honour that, one finds pavilions hosting artistes who render their music with full-throated energy, sometimes to the accompaniment of deafening music. The ugly part is that everything gets drowned in the fairground loudspeakers churning out popular songs, but to what purpose at a book fair escapes me.

Finding one’s way is not easy when one is in the process of gaining enlightenment, and the latter is not easy when the surroundings are not peaceful; there was a stark contrast with people jostling into one another, talking aloud, and children adding to the confusion with their boisterousness. I felt like someone possessed, not seeing where I was going and not daring to look at the bookstalls in case someone waggled an admonishing finger at me! The names of publishing houses strewn across stalls seemed to dance in front of me, adding to my misery. Here I was at the book fair, but I did not have the time to enter a single stall, let alone look at a book. It was unfortunate also how some of the people, hailing from the suburbs, were visiting just to add to the crowd and confusion, like parents carrying kids on their shoulders who were more intent on gormandising than appreciating the books.

After ten minutes, I did find my pavilion and was just in time to see my cousin and her troupe take the stage. She was happy to see me and waved. I listened for some time to their songs, mainly Rabindra Sangeet, but had to strain my ears because there was a lot of surrounding sound marring it. Anyway, with her rendition over, I departed because of the constraints of time.

As I made my way back, I felt sad that, barring my cousin’s programme, the visit was like a failed attempt at something, and I do not like failures!

The writer works in education.