Like most children of our generation, I too was fond of reading comics. In those days, comics were among the very few sources of entertainment available to children – second to television, of course, which wasn’t so common in middle class families back then.
When we were young, my father used to bring us one comic book and a children magazine every month. The comic was Indrajal Comics (इंद्रजाल कॉमिक्स), mostly Phantom stories, published by the Times of India and the children magazine was “Chandamama” (चंदामामा), published by Chandamama Publications, Madras, known for its mythological and magical stories.
Somehow, I still remember the name of first comics I had read. It was “वेताल और नीली घाटी का राक्षस”, a Phantom story. By the time we grew up a little, some small-time local shopkeepers started keeping comics in their shops renting them out for as little as 10 paise per day. I used to spend whatever little pocket money I used to have on these comics.
In school time, during recess I along with one of my classmates often visited the small book stall just outside our school where we could read comics by paying 25 paise only. As soon as the recess bell rang, we would rush to the bookstall, pick out a comic, devour it within 10 to 15 minutes, and dash back to school. It was a highly lucrative business for booksellers in those days, as they not only recovered their costs but also made a profit even before the comic was sold.
We had a Hindi teacher in Middle School, who often said – “If you bear enmity toward someone, then have his children addicted to comics – and his life will fall apart.” Of course, I never took him seriously, but an amusing thought did come to my mind that, in my case, it was my own father who was responsible for my addiction for comics. But today, when I see small children glued to mobile phones rather than reading storybooks or children magazines, I feel deeply grateful to my father for instilling in us the habit of reading. I admit, I never excelled academically, but my love for books never wavered. I still read as much as possible. I never missed a single Book Fair in Delhi over the last two and a half decades, purely for the love of books. There’s something deeply comforting about being surrounded by books – a quiet joy I can’t quite explain.