Autobiography of a book - Reshma Majithia

I was kept among a hoard of books forgotten and unsold in the corner of the basement,
until one day my owner fortuitously happened to glance at me and decided to put me up for sale. I was dusted and ironed out as I was to be exhibited out on the front shelves. I can’t tell you how relieved I was. I was sick of lying there in the dirt, in that substandard place and surely would have choked and died, if not for the good sense that prevailed over him. I was green with envy of all the other books and would often hurl expletives at them. I would often be heckled because I was never picked up.
My fortune changed over a period of time. My days at the store were full of fun and frolic. I felt euphoric and morose at the same time particularly when a customer picked me up and later put me back. I wanted to move out, to see the new world. The thought of making new friends was exciting and leaving old ones was equally excruciating. Finally the day dawned when I was purchased. The bookstore owner was thrilled as I was an expensive proposition I made him a lot of money and he was gratified. He bid me a loving farewell and swathed me up in gold and satin. My new owner took me to a modish restaurant for a meeting with his clients. He then flaunted me and I was passed lovingly all around. They were smitten by me and one of them wanted to borrow me, as she had heard a lot about me from her friends, but my owner fervently said no, for I was precious.
We reached home and I was placed as a trophy on his shelf. People came, saw, admired and oohed and aahed. Days have passed since then; I lie here on the shelf, a matter of pride and importance, but untouched and unread. Then yesterday out of the blue, my owner while dusting browsed through me and found me remarkable and couldn’t put me down. Like I have often said I am precious and I am an icon, I am Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler.

The meaning of words marked in bold