“When I get a little money, I buy books; and if any is left, I buy food and clothes” - Desiderius Erasmus

Manney’s.

A magical bookstore in the era of Crosswords and Landmarks.

A place where my heart leaps for joy at the sight of Mr. Pink Whistles and the magic Faraway Tree sharing equal space with the Ram Charans and Warren Buffets of the world.

Where the elves and goblins look exactly the same way as they did decades ago—revised editions and new fangled artists have left them untouched.

A place made more magical by the sheer genius of the gentleman who owns and graces the store with his magnificent presence.

There is a charm to the place.

No red and yellow poofs lie in wait for you to relax and read—at most, a stubby stool might ease your worn out calves as you plop on it to leaf through the pages of a hardbound wonder.

Books peep down at you, stacked one above the other, like the tower of Babel, reaching down from another Heaven.

 No spacious spaces span out for kids to whizz past on imaginary toy cars, as a multitude of books cramp in together, vying with the other for attention.

No cafes lie in wait, tempting you to sip coffee while ruminating over a favourite book.

No soft music plays to soothe your mind. Just the sounds of silence. And of leaves being turned; the happy sigh of a happy reader, reliving nostalgia; an occasional query regarding a book you’d long forgotten yourself…

No separate section screaming ‘Toys’ or ‘Stationary’ or ‘Electronics’ or ‘Music’.  Just books.

All to say, that nothing would distract you from your real purpose in visiting the place in the first place. To savour, to drink in the aroma of words.

And then there’s Mr. Mani, who would rather walk you down to the exact book you had in mind, all the while, telling you how he remembered it from his boyhood days, or how it had evolved over time… a little snippet, a little anecdote that you’d carry in your heart and your mind long after you’d left the store.

Technology has definitely evolved by leaps and bounds; yet the joy of visiting Manney’s is that you need not run a search on the computer database to locate a book. Just  a mention will do—they all know enough of its history to be able to help you without hitting a single key.

There is a quaint joy in slipping out of its half downed shutters at closing time, a book clutched in your arm, scurrying out there in the darkness, happy to have taken back one more contribution to your ever growing empire of words.

It’s certainly a word’s worth!