Srinagar, Aug. 11 -- A humble name for a place that has been a refuge for minds wandering in search of meaning is Nizamuddin in Delhi. There's a bookshop named JMC Emporium that has no door, no security, no window, no guard just books. The shelves simply begin where the street ends, and the hum of the bazaar is swallowed by the books. It feels like a cave of books. Some spines are cracked, others still hold their character, the corners of certain covers are curled by too many hands. It is the kind of place where you don't ask for the latest bestseller. You let the book corner choose you. And there's Basit. I have known him for a few years, not just as the man who sells books in Nizamuddin, but as one who seems to live in them. He does not...