Classics, be it musical, literary or cinematic, turn me into a marionette. Whenever I saunter into a shop, invisible strings get unleashed within seconds. They wrap themselves around my feet, and manipulate their movement. I find myself gravitating towards works that not only epitomise creative immortality, but also make me hopeful about the future of art in general. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I do the puppet walk. By the time I do my buying and leave the store, I ensure that my debit card is a lot poorer. Reactions to my purchases vary. Some find me affluent which I am not. Some others find me extravagant which could well be the case.
Yet, one thing saddens me always. When I pick up a contemporary novel and look at the price tag, I realise that I will have to shell out Rs 500. How good is the writer? In most cases, if that fellow's book had been released yesterday, it would have been forgotten by today. But when it is Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, editions meant for the common reader can be all yours for as little as Rs 100. Till today, I have not been able to figure out why the works of all-time great writers should be treated with so much indignity.
As it is, there is this detestable cross-section of buyers that picks up books to embellish shelves at home. Dickens, Austen, Thackeray, Hardy, Wordsworth, Maupassant, Wilde: I have seen one disgusting shelf in New Delhi which held around 1000 classics, most of them unread that the complacent owner acknowledged blissfully. One reason why such a collection was built was since the price of the books was obscenely cheap. So, by marketing masterpieces at such rates, aren't the store owners actually guilty of creating decorative collections at a time when reading habit is clearly on the decline? More importantly, if someone wants a Dickens, let him/her pay for a Dickens. Pray, why should David Copperfield come for a hundred rupees less than some nonsensical Harold Robbins novel?
Not that cheap pricing does not help. During my days as a child in Patna, there was no library that stocked Russian literature. About 25 years ago, my budget for books sanctioned by my family used to be a princely 200 bucks. But I did manage to finish that off by the middle of the month. Once that happened, I persuaded my grandmother to take me to a store that was a repository of Russian books. "They are so cheap," I simpered. With a benign grin, she surrendered to my request and took me there. It was because of my journeys there that I discovered Fyodor Dostoyevsky (two hardbound volumes of The Idiot cost me eight rupees), Alexander Pushkin (a five-rupee Pushkin volume acquainted me with another Don Juan) and Maxim Gorky (ten hardbound volumes of his entire works cost me Rs 110).
But, why those books were sold for so cheap was because of a deliberate policy that they needed to reach out to everybody. And, in that store, there was no Jack Higgins whose thin paperback was priced at 20 bucks. The sad thing today, and it really hurts, is that a VCD of Salaam Namaste comes for Rs 149. Then, one moves on and picks up six Laurel and Hardy films from the same store for Rs 300. Does one need to add that the makers also give a free VCD case along with the Laurel and Hardy films? Not only that, I also happen to be the proud owner of 20 odd Chaplin films that must have cost me around Rs 1000. For five Alfred Hitchcock flicks, I have shelled out Rs 400.
Classics being classics will always have fewer buyers. That's a known fact of life. If that were not the case, everyone would have views on why Raag Bhimpalasi need not be less interesting than Raag Poorvi , or why Beethoven's best magic isn't as captivating as Mozart's worst. Despite cheap tags, alluring offers and so on, the fact remains that Mallika Sherawat's assets in forgettable films will continue to generate more discussions everywhere. So, if the makers think that selling classics for cheap can create more interest in them, they are awfully wrong.
How I wish could walk into any store that gave classics the honour they deserve. How I hope that A Tale of Two Cities will be sold for Rs 500, about 300 more than a Scott Turow book. That will not happen soon for sure. If at all that will ever happen seems slightly less unlikely.
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