A dim lit corridor led to a small room. Its entrance held a creaky metallic chair on one end , and a shaky wooden stool on the other. In between them stood a large register holding scribblings of many...
The man on the chair called himself a Librarian, taking the seat on the stool were its readers. A room packed with books -most of them old, some partly torn, some without cover pages. Starting from ground level to lofty heights, books seemed towering on me from all sides. I was about 12 then. While my friends went for Famous Five & Secret Seven, I devoured Tinkle Digest week after week.
Years rolled...face of Library changed. Libraries started giving out fresh, neat books- as good as new ones. Kiosks replaced bulky Entry Registers, dainty cushions replaced creaky chairs...Tinkle Digest took a back seat.
A refreshing pause came by... reading slowed down. Random books kept coming but the habit of reading was undergoing a change. From renting books to buying books & saving them to read another day! Books of interest kept adding up, adding became piling & piling became stocking. For want of space they were re-arranged, then shuffled, subsequently shifted, until one day...went out of sight.
I always wondered how the Librarian with a creaky chair reached out to the books he stacked at lofty heights. 🤔 Just as I wonder now, on which attic I have placed those books for future read.? Nothing aids my memory to tell exactly which books are stored in there. If I were to climb up & search them today, the place would resemble the same faintly lit library aisle that I had visited years back.............Originally this post was to find an end here!