If I were to categorise myself I would say I belong to the old school that hates change. I hate to watch old buildings make way for new, multi-storeys, I hate it when names of roads, flyovers and buildings are changed. And I even hate it when they make two-way narrow bylanes into one-way streets.

And yet, last weekend, when I attended the Crossword Book Awards in the spanking, ultra-modern bookstore, I was struck by a near blasphemous thought: Perhaps all change is not such a bad thing. I know this is a politically-incorrect train of thought given that everyone is bemoaning the death of the Irani restaurant by the evil golden arches. The city's old hands are wringing in despair -- and it isn't easy for me to make this admission either.

I was sentimental about Strand. Seven years ago, every Saturday, I had a sacrosanct schedule: Eat lunch at Samovar, flit in to Bombay Swadeshi and spend hours browsing in Mr Shanbag's book store. Where else could you get a Tom Sharpeomnibus for Rs 350 or Shashi Tharoor's Great Indian Novel for Rs 150 -- hardbound, of course. One time, I was desperately hunting for John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces and Strand not only ordered it for me, they also gave me a 20 per cent discount. A discount that seemed like a prize for discerning taste in literature.

I returned to Strand, again and again. Where I found Lawrence Durrell's The Alexandria Quartet and I Allan Sealy's The Trotter-Nama: A Chronicle -- books I searched for high and low, both in Bombay and Delhi.

I Allan Sealy. The winner of the Rs 2-lakh cheque that came with the first Crossword Award. I am willing to bet that the swanky store doesn't have copies of Trotter-Nama. But the shelves will be flooded with copies of The Everest Hotel. And that brings me to the point -- the difference between the two stores. Around the time I was a Strand groupie, a bookstore called Crossword opened. While it was bad enough that it was located atBreach Candy -- How can that nouveau-trash area compare with the charming streets of old Fort? -- inside, books were flanked by soft toys and "cho chweet" greeting cards. Uggh! The books were also cutely-labelled under `fiction', `non-fiction', `humour', `architecture' etc. I wandered through the bookstore wondering where Jean Paul Sartre would fit -- fiction or philosophy? Or was that an existentialist question that even he could not answer?

My opinion of the store went from bad to worse when I went looking for Tom Robbins -- nothing high brow -- when some badge-wearing person, in Crossword, pointed me in the direction of Harold Robbins. I walked out in despair.

But after a while I got sick of going to Strand and finding the same old titles gathering dust. Yes, they ordered whatever you wanted -- even at the risk of snatching the publisher's personal copy -- but when you go out book shopping, you want to return with your quota of weekend reading. By then I had also gifted everyone a copy of GreatIndian Novel.

So, I tentatively wandered back to Crossword, lured by a Vikram Chandra reading of Red Earth and Pouring Rain. The first thing I saw was the entire William series by Richmal Crompton. Next to it was a huge selection of Roald Dahl's children's writing. The fiction section looked a little better too and I found Minerva editions of Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club and The Kitchen God's Wife. Over the last few year's I have also seen Crossword single-handedly usher in the phenomenon of the Celebrity Writer.

Events around a book, a hullabaloo surrounding a release, meet-the-author series and roping-in celebrities to "enact" readings may be the norm today. But five years ago, an Indian writer was synonymous with cheap paper, loose packaging and tacky style. Today, Crossword has to down its shutters to keep the crowds at bay when Shobha De or Kiran Bedi are signing copies of their books. And suddenly, it's become convenient to buy a book, pick up a card, refill your Parker pen andget attachments for your filofax -- under one roof.

And let's not forget the most important part -- Crossword now has an enviable stock of new fiction. Okay, Bridget Jones's Diary is out of stock (it is every where) but Arabella Weir's Does My Bum Look Big In This is available. As is Brett Easton Ellis's The Informers. Ian McEwan, Julian Barnes, Carl Hiaasen, Elmore Leonard share shelf space with Manju Kapur, Kiran Desai and Sohaila Abdulali.

And joy! On the other end of the spectrum, you can get Attia Hosain's Sunlight On A Broken Column and Saadat Hasan Manto's Mottled Dawn. And Ed McBain's entire 59th precinct series. Which can be pondered over excellent capuccino, espresso or ristretto. Now Crossword has the city's first bookside cafe.

Nonita Kalra is features editor, The Indian Express.