To ban or to be

"Banned book week" was an intriguing event at Wilmette library this past week. And [surprise, surprise] the event was a big feature in the kids' section too. Books were wrapped in brown paper and sealed, it felt like you were smuggling out [rather than checking out] copies from the library. This triggered some random memories. 

I had imagined he gallantly saved it from a bonfire at India customs; but a good friend assures me there was no drama when he brought me a copy of "Satanic Verses" from the US many years ago, back when the book was banned in India. Another memory [of an exchange rate compelled "ban", even though the rupee had a bit more stature then] is of joyful discovery and haggling for foreign magazines [business genre, just to be clear!] from street side at Churchgate in Mumbai. The last memory is jarring and not really sure why I'm reminded of it. Its of a procession, through Chembur, led by a donkey - a famous cricketer's picture garlanded with chappals sitting on it - the fervent "hai! hai!"s that come only from the pain of being subjected to another 16 out of 70 balls.

All this to say: a world without censure, and with freedom of expression, is certainly a more aware and interesting world.

And what was Aakash' banned surprise? A light in the attic. Shel Silverstein, we adore you even more.