Books keep a close watch on everything around them. That is how they learn impossible tricks. No, this isn’t a joke. Books, I believe, have an innate AI working for them and they know intuitively where to reach and when. And if you’re open to new fantastical ideas, books even encourage a reader to go ahead and do what is really needed. Well, for instance, if you’re angry and desperately want to throw some heavy object at someone, the right book waves and gets your attention. Books are capable to doing just about anything. This is what makes these printed geniuses remain so much in demand despite the onslaughts of audiobooks and eBooks. Before I get too involved with what books can do besides being read, I must add that there are quite a few amazing features that makes me call them a virus.
Virus? – said Specky, my wife, who had read this part – you are calling a book a virus? The hundreds of books in our personal library are going to be terribly offended.
Not at all – I said – I call them ‘The benevolent Virus’. Happy?
Books, much like a virus, infiltrate the mind quietly and with a tenacity that is gentle yet unyielding. They latch onto the consciousness, replicating their ideas and narratives within the host. The initial exposure, often through casual contact, leads to an incubation period where curiosity germinates. The onset of symptoms is subtle in this prodromal phase. You must’ve observed this behaviour in you or in book lovers around you… you are mesmerised by a sentence here, a phrase there, or sometimes even complete paragraphs. You have notebooks where you painstakingly jot them all down. This is simply the beginning of a love affair… you have obviously been infected by the benevolent virus, and you are hopelessly and helplessly in love! Even Maya Angelou thinks that love is like a virus that can happen to anyone at any time.

When the love pangs get deeper and stronger, you know you are now elevated to the level of a reader. Your thoughts are intricately interwoven with texts that you have read. Your expression betrays a cocktail of Wodehouse, Hemingway, Virginia, Gulzar, Pushkin, Tolstoy and whoever else has been read. There is no denying that your perspective too is subtly altered.
By now you might agree that books do have an innate AI of their own… and just like Copilot, Gemini, or Deepseek… this benevolent virus learns stuff from where it sits and the tasks it is asked to perform. Books have more answers hidden in them than you or me are aware of. Try thinking of a problem and then while it is in your mind, you pick up a book and ask it to manifest an answer… that is, you invoke its powers and open a page. It will invariably have something that helps you move forward.
I am not surprised that books have survived so many advancements in technology. Not just this, they have mastered the art of reaching readers as well as potential readers. Just look at the number of vectors this benevolent virus has – libraries, bookshops, and even the hands of fellow readers. Each vector carries the potential to introduce a new strain, a unique story, or a novel idea. The transmission is seamless, often occurring in the most mundane of interactions. Unstoppable. This contagion is impossible to contain.
We are luckily talking about a benevolent virus and so I do not mind telling you that there is another virus-like trait that it has. There is no cure. Once bitten by the book virus, there is no escape from reading. Its intensity renews as the infected soul discovers new books. My niece (Pavni), who hardly ever stepped beyond her world of chemical engineering, is now so much in love with books that she read everything from Danielle Steel, Murakami, and Fredrik Backman to fascinating texts on climate change. It is the same for anyone… once the love of reading has permeated the soul, it remains dormant, only to flare up with renewed intensity at the discovery of each new book. This benign epidemic fosters not illness, but growth, understanding, and a deep, enduring infection of the heart and mind.
This benevolent virus certainly isn’t another Charles Sobhraj going around pestering others like gangsters do.
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Arvind Passey
Written on 04 February 2025 (736 words)
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Note: The picture is of my grandson