A Ramble On Walking

I like to walk. To be accurate, I should probably say, I like to go for walks, because walking is now a deliberate activity. I hardly ever walk to go any place. Everyone is so used to the car that we now have web sites (like this one) to teach us how to walk. But luckily, I have not forgotten this apparently fast disappearing skill and more importantly, I thoroughly enjoy it.

Walking provides more than physical exercise. If my mind is agitated, walking tends to have a calming effect. If I am relatively calm, then it puts me in a contemplative mood often adding a spiritual dimension. A quick stretching of legs outdoors can serve as a refreshing tonic in the middle of a tedious work day. Just going about myself, on the neighbourhood streets, in the park, by the beach, or in the woods, accompanied only by my thoughts, I am quite content. Having a companion to walk along with you is certainly a bonus. However, I find a bigger group distracting. Three is definitely a crowd in this case.

Even on cloudy days, when it is kind of depressing to stay in, walking can lift our moods. With a stiff wind rushing past my ears, and a faint hint of rain (and only a hint - walking in actual rain is not my cup of tea), I find a brisk walk positively bracing. The faster you go, the louder the roar of the wind gets and soon you are enveloped in it and forget the ambient noises, and with it, any negative feelings.

Occasionally, I would go to the beach for my walk. On the beach, where you have the water on one side and the road on the other, the sound of the waves provides a soothing contrast to the noise of the traffic. There is always a lot of people on the sidewalk, some jogging, some on bicycles, and others walking their dogs. Then there are the surfers getting into their wet suits. It is fascinating to watch them ride the waves. The one drawback for me with walking by the beach is that I have to actually drive to get there in the first place.

One of my favourite places to walk is the nearby canyon preserve. Just minutes into the preserve, you are transported to a different world. The sound of traffic can be heard no more. Instead, there is the pleasant babble of a small stream and of course the sounds of birds. I am grateful to be living in close proximity to these peaceful woods. Even though it is in the middle of a large metro with a population of almost two million, the preserve is never crowded. It is even possible to encounter the odd coyote there.

On this crisp February morning, I chose to walk in my own neighbourhood. The air was thick with the giddying scent of pink jasmine blossoms, occasionally broken by the pungent smell of alliums. As I walked past the houses with manicured lawns and bougainvillea bushes with flame-coloured blooms, the birds were out in full strength and seemed to be gathering for their morning conference. The air was cool but the bright sun muted its sting. A light breeze made the walk very enjoyable. Every now and then, a car rolled by. I walked at a brisk pace and up the climbing road. By the time I reached the bridge over the freeway, I was feeling quite exhilarated.

As always, I paused at the bridge to look at  the freeway traffic. Cars and trucks were rushing down the freeway in both directions in a deafening roar. I lifted my gaze to the western horizon, where, when it is absolutely clear, I can catch a glimpse of the distant ocean. Some evenings, you got to see a gorgeous sunset or hot air balloons making their way across the sky. On cloudy days, however, it is impossible to make out the horizon in the enveloping grey. Today, there were some low clouds covering the sky to the west, even though the sky was otherwise clear. To borrow a phrase from Forrest Gump, "I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and earth began".

I turned my eyes to the east and was greeted with the morning sun bathing the hills near and far and rooftops on the street below. It was curious to see the houses from the higher point. The steep gradient and the twists and turns of the street, made them appear randomly placed. While you would see a neat row of houses when you are walking on the street, the view from above resembled a jumbled heap.

I decided to take one of the lower streets today. Although the street was in the shadow, some of the houses were catching the light reflected from somewhere. The thing with sunlight, is that it bounces off various surfaces and somehow makes its way into the house quite unexpectedly. All we have to do is keep the blinds open and light will surely find its way in just as knowledge finds its way into an open mind. It reminded me of the Gayatri mantra: "We meditate upon His (the Sun's) most effulgent light. May He stimulate our intellects".

Reading Rekindled

When it comes to gadgets, I am no early adopter. I wait for the new technology to shake off the initial problems and get stabilized first. Even then, I may decide to hold out - case in point, I still use a flip phone. Naturally, when eReaders first came out, I was in no rush to get one. This was not some newer, better way, but a fundamentally different way of reading books. Surfing the internet and reading articles is one thing, but the idea of reading an entire book on a screen takes some getting used to. And there is much more to books than just reading.

When you buy a book, it is primarily for reading, but like with many things we enjoy, the other senses too play a part. The feel of the book, the  rustle of the pages when you turn them, the glossy cover and the new book smell - all these add to the whole reading experience. You can also discretely broadcast to others what you are reading, in the process, perhaps impressing them, without having to say a word. Your collection of books can be displayed neatly on shelves with pride of ownership. A wall of books is so inviting, is it not?

My father had a fairly large library housed in several shelves. This collection was quite impressive with books in English, Sanskrit and Tamil on many different subjects from Silappathikaram to Shakespeare. You would find literary classics as well as some contemporary authors. Those books are an important memory from my boyhood. When I picked up one of them and opened it, I would see my father's name, sometimes along with the date when it was purchased. Many of them had been published and purchased well before I was born. Every time we moved, which was once every three years or so, the books would be packed carefully in wooden crates. The shelves themselves were disassembled and packed for the move as well.

When you look through an old book, you get a sense of shared history. Many hands must have browsed the same pages. There may be some notes in the margin by readers past. There may be an old photograph or letter tucked between the pages. You may also find a feather, a leaf, or a bookmark there. The book may have passed from one generation to another. Some may be collector's items, being the first edition of the book or bearing the author's signature; some with old dust jackets intact, others with a calico or leather binding, and so on. Each book seems unique in some way.

Higginbothams, Chennai

I used to acquire books pretty regularly at one time. Every time I went on a business trip, I would buy a book from the little bookshop at the old Bangalore airport just before boarding the plane. It was a little hole in the wall, but the collection in that shop was considerable and amazingly varied. Almost all the PG Wodehouse novels I have, were acquired there as also a few Edward de Bono's and such. Even when travelling by trains, we had the old Higginbothams (the oldest booksellers in India) stalls at many stations ready to provide reading material for the journey. The Higginbothams building in Chennai, which is a historical landmark, was a favourite haunt of mine.

Over the years, I seem to have lost the reading habit. Instead, television and the internet have taken over my spare time. Keen to revive my reading, I recently decided to give eReaders a try with the idea that the novelty would act as a catalyst. I knew that I had to forego the whole gamut of experience that I have had with printed books. Plus, the eReader has come with its own idiosyncrasies. For instance, when I pick it up to read a book, I cannot tell you how many pages the book has. But I can see that I have completed 23% and the estimated time to finish is 7 hours and 34 minutes. If I wish to thumb back to a page I have already read, it is a complex task involving several buttons and a search engine. Reading a book from cover to cover has become more of a figurative thing. While I have several books stored in the Kindle, only one person can read at a time. It is ridiculously simple to purchase an eBook (spending money is always easy), but if you want it signed by the author, tough luck. You are limited in the choice of languages. And so on.

I have managed to read a few books in the last three months and seem to have sort of got used to the device and its quirks. The ability to carry a large collection of books in my hands is certainly an advantage as I am able to switch among several books that I am reading now. I am also able to download free of charge many old classics (including some newer ones that are more than 70 years old) for which copyright has run out. Most importantly, I am once again reading books. I think that is a good thing, whether I read them the old fashioned way, or under a nook using my Kindle. And if I really like a book, perhaps I will go out and buy a hard copy for my collection!

(Image Courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Higginbothams.jpg)