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My internet browser is full of pages starred and bookmarked for later viewing and things that I save because they inspire me or blow my mind.

I have never bought bookmarks for myself (although I have gifted them) because I genuinely do not see them point. I use them all the time, I reuse them and more often then not, I lose them. I’m the kind who grabs anything in the vicinity to use as bookmark. Here are some I found recently, during Diwali cleaning:

Old bills fashioned to serve as bookmarks for some of my favourite strips in my Calvin and Hobbes set. I don’t remember what I even bought and what the bills or for but, hey, they served their purpose.

An old worn out crossword bookmark I used while reading Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the shore. If I line appealed to me greatly, I jotted down the page numbers on the bookmark. I can barely figure out why anymore. I’ve read those pages again and can guess which line I might have loved but I can’t really be sure.


A strip of paper I tore from some magazine and signed twice for some strange reason was used to read Rabindranath Tagore’s short stories.


A strange piece of paper I found still stuck inside my copy of Joseph Heller’s Catch 22. It was all bent out of shape and dusty when I took it out because I never did finish this book. (But then again, I do remember lending it to a friend, so it’s entirely possible that this bookmark is his.)


If I remember correctly, I read Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom so greedily and eagerly I possibly couldn’t have required a bookmark at all. But I did find this business card (of a hair dresser) in the last page. The timing is lost to me, but maybe I read it after my ‘I don’t care about feminity, I’m going to cut my hair real short and be free” haircut. Maybe.


What I’m reading right now and that boring flipkart bookmark I’m using.


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