My Cousin Rachel.

I love old books. The brown crisp pages and the intoxicating fragrance fill me with nostalgia. I hold the book in my hands with tenderness reserved for newborns and I can’t stop myself from burying my nose between the pages and taking a strong whiff every few minutes. An old book definitely adds another dimension to my reading pleasure.

So I am currently knee deep in an 'old books' phase. I finished one a couple of days ago and I am already half way through the second one. 

The first one, 'My Cousin Rachel' by Daphne du Maurier holds a special significance for me. Two of my closest childhood friends gifted it to me on my 20th birthday, the turn of a new decade in my life. I remember the three of us were heavily into du Maurier at the time, having just devoured 'Rebecca', we were craving for more  Victorian style romantic mysteries that were the author's forte. 

We were still in college and were understandably hard up for money. So we came up with an ingenious plan. We got our folks to approve a special 'birthday gifts' allowance and used the money to gift each other books that all three of us wanted to read. The 'birthday girl' would enjoy the privilege of reading the books first and then it would circulate. 

D, V and I enjoyed 'My Cousin Rachel' as much as we did 'Rebecca' and the book came back to me, its rightful owner. 

Years went by and we got busy with the business of growing up. I finished college in Mumbai, moved to Pune for my post graduate course, moved back to Mumbai two years later to work. With work, came money and with money came an avalanche of books. 'My Cousin Rachel' was forgotten.

A month before I entered the 3rd decade of my life, Ninad and I were visiting an old friend from my Pune days. As we sat in her drawing room, catching up, my eyes were drawn to a shelf with a couple of rows devoted to books. I went up to take a closer look at her collection. She had an old copy of 'My Cousin Rachel '. When I held the book in my hands, I knew it was mine. I turned the first page and there was that dedication written a decade ago-" To Shiril on her 20th birthday. May all your hopes and dreams come true". I felt many emotions in that moment but one emotion overwhelmed all else. Guilt. I had forgotten about the book. I didn’t even know that someone had borrowed it, let alone that the person had kept it for years.

So years later, as I was about to turn 30 I stumbled upon  the book that in a way ushered in my 20s. In someone else’s home, no less. Providence? Maybe. I can’t convince myself that it is simply a coincidence. Like Master Uguay said, “There are no accidents” :)

I read the book again recently and enjoyed it  much. It’s an old book now and is just as an old book should be. But this one is so much more. As I turned its musty pages I was reminded of the decade gone by, the journey from being a confused, unsure, wide eyed girl to the woman I am today. In my head I could see myself as I was then and I wished for a moment that I could go back in time and tell the young me, ‘Girl, you are going to be fine.’ :)