To meet you every afternoon post lunch, (siesta time for many) was my most awaited moment of the day. Reading with you was fun. Since you were a literary connoisseur, I would do a selective reading of some prominent chapters from my favourite books and take pleasure to see you just gaze at me.
Today was different from the other days.
I was to read you the final chapter of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Uttering the last lines pushed me closer to the end of our relationship too.
On one hand, while Elizabeth Bennett embraced Mr. Darcy’s proposal; the thought of departing from you pained me on the other. “We were moving to a new city”, I murmured. My afternoons will lose all meaning. “With whom will I share the little joys and sorrows of the inhabitants of every author’s imagination?” I shouted at your eerie silence. ‘Will you not even try to hold me back?’ I demanded. I read your flaring stare, ‘Keep your volume down in my presence’ and I kept quiet.
Reading to you was not just an educating exercise for me. Both of us lived every character’s life. I grieved when Othello strangled Desdemona to death, giggled to see Gulliver struggle in the Lilliputian island and lusted over Sandip’s charming personality in Tagore’s Home and the World. Ah, your disapproving glance!
Your handsome regalia, towering shelves that housed millions of books, rustic fragrance of the walls, incomparable warmth and unmatched tolerance lured me to you every afternoon.
Dear library, you still mean the world to me. Miss you every morning, night and of course afternoon!
Ipshita is a journalist with Times of India. She loves reading, writing, listening to music, enjoys watching staged plays more than movies in theatre. Reading Tagore’s poetry and novels inspire the writer in her.
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