All because of Hurree babu, I'm having to fill up yet another form-like thing (one of my least favourite things to do).

But, so here is my take on books vaghaira:

Total Number of Books I Own:

Since we are getting into ownership issues here, what will qualify as MY property?
Do books bought by me alone qualify? Or can I include books handed down by grandpa, aunts, mom, cousins etc?
Or can I give a joint property estimate - since most of them lie scattered between three different houses?

And if I am only going to include MY books, do gifts count?

The answer, anyway, is - I don't know. Nobody knows.
We don't count books. Grandma says one shouldn't count one's chapattis as one eats. I think my grandpa's funda was - don't count the books you read/keep.

If I am allowed to count trunkfuls and cupboardfuls... no, actually, I have no clue. We really don't count bookshelves either...(I have to admit here, that Hurree's house is the only other I have seen that is in a whole other book-league. No contest there.)

If it helps, my mom has been making noises along the lines of "now, if you buy any more books, either we live in the house or.... " but she's got a list of gifts she needs - most of which are books of some sort.)

Last Book I Bought:

Let me see now.... ummm, I've taken to borrowing books heavily, but I last bought two books simultaneously.
One was Sahir Ludhiyanvi's collection of songs and poems.
The other was a collection (a tiny selection) of Faiz' poetry.

Last Book I Read:

I last finished reading 'The Mists of Avalon'.
Then there were some reports by some NGOs compiled in book format, but I don't know if they count.
Besides, I don't quite remember the titles.
Am currently reading 'A prayer for Owen Meany', along with Faiz's poetry (Hai, Faiz!! Sigh...!)

Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me:

Books by themselves don't mean so much to me. I might get attached to an idea expressed by an author but that doesn't always have much to do with the book itself - many a scene, image, metaphor, philosophy has remained stuck in my head, though the book itself has been forgettable.

I can't think of a single book that altered my perspective about anything on a permanent basis.
With the exception of P Sainath's 'Everybody loves a Good Drought'.

What? I HAVE to name five?

'Gone with the Wind' had me sobbing for the rebellious, loveless, all-human Scarlet, for three whole days. Rhett Butler was SUCH an idiot, and Scarlet? Poor Scarlet... made me cry my heart out (I was only fourteen, alright?!).

Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged' had my mind in a twist all through the second and third year of BA. The effects wore off when I stepped into the real, working world. (Though her 'Anti-Industrial Revolution' does make me think... even now).

Tolstoy's 'War and Peace'... I vaguely remember thinking a whole lot about love, war, relationships and writing, while I read this book. Don't ask me what, though. None of it stayed. (But, frankly, the last thirty pages took me a whole month to waddle through.)

Margaret Atwood's 'Good Bones' is a current favourite. It was consumed (three times in the same month) recently, so I don't know how long the hangover will last, but it made me both heady and frightened, dark and enlightened, at the same time.

Then, there's Ghalib who's like the ghost I'm quite in love with, though I'm sure he was rather ugly...
And Kahlil Gibran's 'Prophet' still gives me goose-bumps, in places...

Oh, that's more than five already, is it?

Tag Five People And Ask Them To Do This On Their Blogs:

But this bit is totally unfair - the people I know and who blog have probably been tagged already. Okay, fine FINE! I'll try.

But I'm only going to tag three, to begin with (since I'm running the risk of being shot for sending forward-like objects that call themselves 'meme', I might as well keep my list of assailants short)
J
Dilip
Morq