The small picture

I'm going to a bookshop opening," said a friend last Saturday, in the morning. Were we in Delhi I'd have been even more excited. How often does any new bookshop open in that city of 16.75 million people? But this is Bangalore and a bookshop launch, though good news, is not big news.

Even so, a visit to a new independent bookshop is a pilgrimage that one must make. A few days later, I too went to see the Lightroom Bookstore and meet its maker. Aashti Mudnani is a former art gallery publicist in her mid-30s, warm, gentle, serious and a little bit nervous. The mother of two young daughters, she is running her brand-new bookshop all on her own - and she is a total newbie in the trade.

This need not be a problem. "Given a good pitch and the right amount of capital," wrote George Orwell in 1936, "any educated person ought to be able to make a small secure living out of a bookshop. [It] is not a difficult trade to learn, and you start at a great advantage if you know anything about the insides of books. (Most booksellers don't.)"

"I have no business background, or head for it," says Mudnani. She raised the Rs 7.5 lakh she needed from family and friends. A bank loan was out of the question because, having quit her gallery job, she didn't have the security of a salary. And nor does her husband, who is a graphic designer. Of the total sum, she has invested Rs 3 lakh in her stock of about 1,000 books, and Rs 1.2 lakh each in other products and in doing up the interior.

As for her pitch: Lightroom is a children's bookshop. Most of its books are meant for young children. Many are by independent publishers like Katha, Pratham, Tara, Tulika and Young Zubaan. There are also "fun things" - stuffed animals, quilts, clothes, mobiles (the ones that hang not ring), puzzles, wooden toys, all bright and cheery and all manufactured by young designer-led companies like Gween Toys in Bangalore and Sotomoto of Delhi.

Given the tininess of Mudnani's budget, the selection is not large; so each item gets lots of elbow room. The name is descriptive: Lightroom is a single large, light-filled, white-painted room in a flat on the first floor of a house in old Frazer Town. It's not prosperous Indiranagar, but it is what Mudnani can afford. She was advised by a VC friend to start by selling online, but "For me, somehow, it is the physical store space which can inculcate in kids the love of books."

She says, "I feel this is a place I won't have many walk-ins." There were two in the first three days, and neither spent money. So she is depending on careful curation to keep her customers coming back. "I sat up night after night making my list," and she met the book distributors, who were supportive, unlike her fellow retailers whom she approached for advice. For publicity she reached out to friends and acquaintances. She is planning storytelling events. By the time we met on the fourth day she had sold 190 books, including (to her surprise) 18 of the expensive Japanese illustrated titles. More stock has quickly been ordered.

I bought four books. They are all from her core category, picture books. I bought them because they were goodlooking and amusing to my eyes. I will give them to a friend's young daughter. I hope she likes them, but I wonder if she will at first. Most picture books are designed to be picked up by adults. They are books you feel good buying for someone else. Good for Mudnani, I suppose.

It's astonishing to me that, in this mixed-up age, so distant from Orwell's time, and with so little money, no location and no experience, a salarywoman can fulfill a dream and open a bookshop. Other people just talk about it, and hopelessly. "I hope this bookstore is here to stay," says Mudnani. By gum, I do too.

rraote@yahoo.com