BENGALURU: I was pleasantly surprised to find a poster advertising a library on the roads a few days back. Library periods were my favourite back in school. The word ‘library’ brought along memories of being huddled up in a corner of a dimly lit room, immersed in a story of an adventurer setting out to new lands. But I hadn’t visited a library for pleasure, in decades. I always found libraries to be great levellers. Libraries made me feel ‘rich’ – with access to thousands of books, and more importantly, the time to consume them.
As a child, I assumed that all rich people had libraries stacked with books in their houses. It was only much later that I realised that Jack Reacher wasn’t given as much space in shelves as Johnny Walker! The other association I had with memories was a strictly enforced set of rules. No talking. No eating. No laughing. There was a sense of a treasure-trove of knowledge, but one that could be enjoyed only by following a set of laid-down rules. Libraries also carried a sense of ‘timelessness’ with them. The library period flew past me before I could properly settle into the hero’s adventures.
Gradually, libraries completely vanished from my consciousness. Access to computers, smartphones and blazing fast internet speeds contributed significantly to the cause. Libraries never came up in conversations with friends. The only time libraries appear in popular culture are in romantic movies. The hero and heroine meet and flirt in a library, but quickly move on to greater things like fighting evil landlords or changing society. I was curious to see how public libraries were coping with a world that had changed drastically over the last 20 years. Were the rules still as strictly enforced? Have libraries managed to remain relevant after all these years?
The library I walked into had the familiar musty smell of thousands of books ageing together. Rows of books sitting with their backs facing me, calling out to me like ghosts from the past. Windows were open to let in sunlight, but would gradually be closed off as the sun grew harsher.
There was a healthy mix of people across all ages. Elderly people hunched over books and magazines. Children who were reading with the gleeful joy of escaping into another world. And people in their late 20s and early 30s who were clearly preparing for UPSC exams. They were the most frantic of the lot – they had a number of books sprawled open, taking notes and turning back pages with a definite sense of purpose. Everybody else seemed to be on a holiday.
But everything else about libraries was intact. The still blanket of silence enveloping the entire place. The rules were intact. Next to the poster of a woman with a finger on her lips, was a poster requesting patrons to put their phones on silent. No talking. No eating. But there were no strict rules on taking naps, and I found a few people hunched over their desk, making a quick pitstop before setting off to adventures around the world.
I settled down with a book, before I knew it, I began to feel drowsy. I had no idea how much time had passed, before a gentle nudge woke me up. Much like the days of yore, time seemed to have flown by in a library. I stepped out of the oasis, and into the chaos of vehicles and ringtones, dust and smoke. Libraries are islands of calmness and knowledge, and will be relevant as long as knowledge and patience are relevant.
The author is a writer and a comedian.