CHENNAI: At a time like this, when the pendulum has been swinging between publications shutting down and pavement booksellers moving to digital avenues to stay afloat (and once in a while, thrive), one beloved book house in the city has stayed the same for three decades now; in space and spirit. Rare Books, the small, square garage in RA Puram, continues to offer rarity and antiquity packed between pages and preserved in print. Thanks to SA Govindaraju, the man of many books.
All things old
Govindaraju, however, credits his father for his collections. “My father was a voracious reader. He used to say, ‘Everybody collects money and there is no end to it. But you collect books and preserve them, pass them on.’ He used to buy a lot of books. Then, I started doing the same,” he narrates. And so, stacked on shelves, stuffed into suitcases and scattered around the store are rare books of every kind.
Old, yellowing, early editions of books you may only know by reputation, books long out of print, some meticulously preserved non-fiction work, curious additions from outside the country and more. You’ll find an Archie’s Digest from the 70s and a copy of The Complete Book of Dried Flowers by Hillier and Hilton on the same shelf.
Many an ardent collector have found their way to Rare Books for particularly elusive finds. Including the general manager of Southern Railways, he says. “There was a book on railway thieves in India — The History of Railway Thieves: With Hints on Detection. This was a rare book and I had it. The Southern Railways manager took an appointment with me to see the book; he said that this book was not available anywhere else in the world. He wanted it for their archives,” he recounts.
Stories aplenty
Govindaraju is a man of many collections. “One is the collection of old books, newspapers and magazines. The other is the collection of various advertisements, magazine art, photographs, and even audio cassettes,” he shares. He goes on to display a whole set of pin-up art French magazines, recreations of Tanjore paintings in print, vintage photographs of everyday people, and file after file of newspaper ads.
There is one of Ovaltine from the 70s, of motors and electronics, and one of Madras and Southern Mahratta Railways announcing a Deepavali concession on tickets; this is just the tip of the ad-berg. “I have an ad that has Imran Khan saying he has travelled all over the world and used all kinds of soap but nothing is as good as Cinthol. There is a version of it with Annie Besant as well. These are very, very possessive advertisements. Godrej has purchased this advertisement from me for Rs 500,” he shares.
Govindaraju is a man of many stories. Pick any book from the shelf and he’s sure to go, “Oh that one….you know what happened…”. And you will only be glad he did. I was regaled to stories of trips to the US and returning with a treasure trove of magazine art, a visit from N Ram that ended with a purchase for Rs 2,000 and the dissemination of his personal phone number.
Coming across an old ad featuring JRD Tata, he is reminded of the famous interaction between the business tycoon and the late Jawaharlal Nehru, where the latter had remarked, “Profit is such a dirty word.” Govindaraju doesn’t say it in that many words but he might be of the same kind too. Every single component of the store had a price tag that was cheaper than an average book store listing. Most old books are being sold for Rs 200-Rs 400, even the ones he had purchased for Rs 4,000. Posters and advertisements dating back to the 1930s, painstakingly collected, are given away for Rs 50-Rs 100. “When college students come in, curious and looking for something, I always give them big discounts. It is only for them,” he adds, offering yet another layer of affordability to such rare archives.
Evidence of a life
Govindaraju is a man of many years. It is evident when you see him. At 87 years of age, and having spent a good part of the past two years recovering from ill health, he moves slowly; takes his time with his stories. You understand that more when he says he doesn’t get to spend much time at the store these days; his children worry. However, when he says, “If I were to come and sit here, I would have been hale and healthy,” you really get the significance of the years of life he carries with him. Today, he has an able assistant taking care of the store in his absence. Govindaraju gets an hour at the store but once he is there, he doesn’t have the heart to leave.
While the store gets all kinds of visitors with varying levels of curiosity, is there really a demand for vintage books anymore? Especially when every report — and exhausted parent — out there would have you believe that young people don’t read anymore. He shuts down the mere suggestion. “Each one is primed according to times. There is no good reader or bad reader and others deciding what anyone should read; it is the product of the times. I have editions of The Indian Express from 1935 but I don’t have a copy of the latest,” he reasons.
Yet, he is aware of the diminishing prospects of the store. There is very little money it brings in, even without factoring in the losses of the pandemic years. That is one of the reasons why he didn’t want any of his children to sweat it out here. Yet, his attachment to the store does not seem to be diminishing even in the face of age and ill health. “At one time I thought all this was my possession. Then, I realised that I was not permanent and therefore, I should find another place for them. So, I’ll keep doing that,” he concludes.