“It must be time to move,” I said to Art last week after a visit to the Rochester Public Library. Browsing the new bookshelf, which is where I always start, all that caught my eye were novels I had just taken from my bookshelves and donated.
There was my entire collection of Indian writers whom I was passionate about for years after my first visit to India in 1994. Traveling for three weeks in Rajasthan left such a lasting impression that for at least a decade afterward all I wanted to read were novels set in India by Indian writers. I wanted to capture again the sensory experience of the smell of sandalwood and incense, the parade of colors of village women in brilliant saris and gold bangles walking barefoot on the dusty red earth , to hear the sounds of clipped English, and experience the total absence of familiar Western culture. Immersing myself in Indian fiction I found I could relive and picture those memorable weeks that stayed with me years later.
On the Rochester news page of the Herald last week, the librarian announced “the donation of a collection of Indian novels by Kristina Aaronson” and special display of these books on the front table in the library. I told this to my mother in North Carolina who wanted to know who in Rochester, Vermont would care to read Indian novels. There are some people in Rochester who have become so immersed in the art of meditation that they spend time in ashrams in India and are enamored of many things Indian. As the saying goes, “there is more than meets the eye” here in Rochester, a Vermont town of 1200 people.
Parting with my Indian book collection was not as difficult as it might have been some years ago. Knowing we are moving from our house in Vermont it was necessary to reexamine things I valued and kept in this house for 20 years. As I have sorted, cleared out, and thrown away I am struck by how my interests have gone in new directions as time has passed and I have explored new parts of the world. I no longer crave reading Indian novels. Not only did I part with most of my books but the “salwar kameez “ outfits I had made while in India, wore for fun, and hung onto for years, are finally in the give away bag for the thrift shop with no regrets. It was time.
I have cherished and supported the Rochester Public Library, open three days a week and housed in an old white New England church building with steeple, stained glass windows and all. It has served me well over the years. Now I am pleased that my India collection will live on there. at least for awhile. But I am ready for a new library to explore regularly. I am glad to be moving on.
