Presenters in the bus
 If you have ever travelled out of Colombo by bus, you would know how
easy it is to practise charity. You don’t have to think twice, as
someone suddenly pops in and gets on to a marketing campaign. There is a
number of them: orange, five-rupee necklaces, water bottles and books.
Charity, as I have heard, is what you offer willingly. But there are
times when you are forced to practise charity. They simply would not
leave you alone until you respond: either say no or buy it without a
word. Say your reaction is not favourable, then they continue to be a
fusspot.
Those guys mostly sell bookmarks or stickers. One similarity in them
is that they all look like hippies. And once the charity is practised,
what’s left for you is to simply wonder where your Rs 20 or Rs 10 would
end up. You are reasonable to assume if it’s something to with drugs or
different menace of the ilk.
Initially I thought of titling this as ‘Artistes in the bus’. But my
fascination at this moment is not about musicians. I have always been
enthralled by the presentation skills of the booksellers.
The books are now getting a wider audience. May be not tens of
thousands like in some European countries. Luckily or otherwise we are
hearing of writers more than readers. It’s a good sign. At least writers
will read their fellows’ writings, if there are not enough readers. Let
us pray for writers never to outnumber the readers.
 A book sold in buses is not a new concept. It has been there, I
think, ever since the buses came to be. Buses have gone far from books.
They have even got television now, which is called ‘bus tv’. Those who
are not lucky to occupy a seat will be the more benefited lot, as they
cannot look out of the window.
The books sold in buses are quite cheap. What is Rs 300 at the normal
book market is about Rs 100. Isn’t it quite for a song? Yes, the price
is marked in the back cover too. A lady would make a grab at it, even
though the subject might not be of interest. The book is quite cheap.
That is enough.
The problem is if these books really exist in the ‘market’. We have
never heard the names of the publishers. Well, that is not the case. You
don’t have to be published by some established company. It counts for
recognition, more than quality. But there are standards too.
I have done enough window shopping in my life, and what I have come
across is quite a different species. The looks cap it all.
None of the established publishers in the Sri Lankan book market is
sharply concerned about standards or language accuracy. No Sri Lankan
book, both English and Sinhala, is free of linguistic fallacies. But
it’s much better when compared to what is sold in buses. Not only the
established publishers have lesser linguistic fallacies, but they have
got some other benefits too: handsome cover and charming layout.
I have bought a dozen of books sold in the bus for interest and
curiosity. One book was a mini Sinhala-English dictionary. I thought it
might be useful whenever I need an English equivalent for a Sinhala
term.
I just came across one word ‘Bhoomi Thel’, which is kerosene oil in
Sinhala. The English word given was ‘earth oil’. Theoretically it should
be true as ‘bhoomi’ means ‘earth’ while ‘thel’ is oil. But I could not
help laugh out loud, and share it with a few friends. May be I’m
ignorant. I know there is earth oil, but is it ‘Bhoomi Thel’?
But that’s not all. There is wrong information as well as gross
spelling errors.
I meet those who could point a dozen of such errors in these ‘bus
books’.
Traditions evolve. Now the books are judged by their looks. The state
literary awards too have a separate section for cover. Most of these
book covers are not appealing. These books seem to have been handled by
amateurs, or those who lack creative touch.
Sri Lanka is still blissfully roaming in pre-Ipad era. Ipad is still
a luxury buy. So newspapers and books continue to dominate the scene. We
have a species called scholars and intellectuals who question if our
folks read. Whatever research is done, it is still a question to me. Do
people actually read? If they don’t, then how come the vendors could
still sell books like oranges and ‘peni kaju’?
These presenters adopt a number of techniques. Commonest is admitting
how poor and helpless they are. Some describe the book in length. Some
do that with a little more: they claim to do it as a job, as they cannot
find any other job. Their faces etch in pain. Some give a wide
beseeching gaze.
All this, I’m sure, you too have taken in as a spy. Only if you have
travelled in a bus bound out of Colombo, though. I wonder how they have
improved those presentation skills. We can assume that necessity /
poverty is the father of improved presentation skills, perhaps.
A dictionary seller narrated a list of words and asked the crowd if
they knew the English equivalents. As the crowd was silent, he repeated
the list with respective English words. Once I was wondering if I’m
hearing a lecture, but only later did I come to know it’s a long
introduction to a particular book.
Sometimes the seller would go on talking, but he doesn’t get a single
buyer.
Most books sold in buses include dictionaries, road-directions,
feng-shui and works of related subjects. The bestseller must be ‘Bodhi
Pooja’ books. They are sold mostly based on charity.
These presenters are scary, heartbreaking and sometimes call for
sympathy. Knowingly or unknowingly we fall prey.
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