Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home – they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.
I want to note down a memoy that just crossed my mind. I used to be very scared for my books. I very worried that Amma might do something to them when wasn't around. Burn them, throw water or milk on them, hide them. I was worried that my books wouldn't be there on my table if I go to sleep. But Amma never touched them. She will be heartbroken if I tell her this now, so you listen.
