Isn't it wonderful when a place feels like it knows you, knows your history, your tastes, and even your little guilty pleasures?
For me, it’s Happy Book Stall on Hill Road in Bandra. Despite the newer, glitzy bookstores that have popped up, there’s something about Happy that pulls me in, time and time again. It’s not just a bookstore, it’s a place where I find joy in the simple act of browsing, picking up books, and feeling that quiet sense of contentment when I find what I didn’t know I was looking for.
Mr. Jerajani, who I have always addressed only as Uncle, is the heart of Happy.
I remember going there with my Mom, who oddly enough, ran a library herself…a detail I tend to forget. At that time, our visits were marked by the little rituals of picking up beloved children’s books: Noddy, Enid Blyton, Judy and Mandy comics, Amar Chitra Katha, and the occasional activity book. My Mom would browse for the latest Mills & Boon, some of which satisfied my need for a soppy romance in my high school years.
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As I grew older and entered college, my visits to Happy shifted. I would gravitate toward "photo romances," the ancestors of modern graphic novels (I guess), searching for the most handsome hero in the pages, and giggling sillyly with my friends. At the same time, I developed a new interest in recipe books and sugar craft…hobbies that were a bit more specific, yet a big part of my exploration of the world through books. My mother indulged me, often buying books I didn’t necessarily need, but ones that fed my interests nonetheless. The result? A “recipe book graveyard” at our home, filled with stacks of cookbooks that were flipped through but rarely used. Yet those books, along with the shared experience of choosing them, are cherished memories.
Once I started earning, one of my guilty pleasures was to go to Happy Book Stall to buy myself new books. The pirated copies being sold on the streets were so tempting, given the price difference but they did not come along with Uncle’s recommendation. He had a quiet, thoughtful approach to bookselling, where he didn’t just sell a book, but offered me a window into new worlds. He introduced me to new authors, handed me titles that I never would have picked up on my own, and shared the joy of discovering something special.
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Today, Uncle Jerajani has his son and grandson, keeping up their tradition of bookselling that their family started in 1947.
It’s beautiful how certain places hold a special kind of magic, isn’t it?
What’s your special place?
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