Humongous number of books, journals, magazines and newspapers stacked up the shelves. Is that what you see? Perhaps, to an avid reader, a plethora of happiness. Is that all?
Well, the library certainly did serve my purpose. Books, yes. Happiness, yes (I'm one among those avid readers). But most of all, the people. Seated across the tables, wandering along the shelves, whispering as low as they can, aiming to touch below 20 hertz.
One reader with his collection of books, gazing through the pages of the book; as though there hid a treasure between the pages of the book. Probably he isn't able to absorb what is conveyed. Probably he is lost in thought. Probably he is just engrossed into his book. Probably, he's waiting for someone. But that happens in Cafeterias, right? Never-mind. Let's just call him 'The ponderer.'
At the right most corner, there is one woman, probably in her 40's, gazing. No, not at the book. Her gaze widens to her own world. She chooses to follow Newton's first law of motion. Probably the library has an aura of peace to her. Probably she has got nothing on her mind. She is still. And that's that. Because stillness is not the same as nothingness. Probably she is at her peace.
To the other extreme are a bunch of happy-go-lucky students. Giggling, whispering, winking and at the same time cautious to not disturb the others or grab the attention of the librarian. Probably they're done with their examinations and having a fun time borrowing the works of favorite authors. Oh yes, all the giggling and whispering only after each one of them had an attractive book in each of their hands. By attractive I mean, good authors.
Meanwhile my friend is busy juggling across the pages of a book that contained a zillion things to learn, that actually made no sense but was absolutely omnipotent for the examination that was to commence in a few hours.
What was I doing? Why wasn't I doing the same? Well, observing people seemed much more interesting. Much more knowledgeable: do not ask in what context.
A few walked in and a few left. A few slide across the shelves. Ah, the beguiling attribute of used books. Experience wins hands-down over description. There is something about the used books. Alphabets scribbled in a hustle, ink marks, an old leaf from the autumn fall, and if you're lucky, a message. A message in a book, that travels past hands and libraries and shelves, right away to you. Curiosity spurs imagination inside the heart.
That's for an enough. I resume to my books. The same kind of books that my friend was fighting a war with. Just different color, different author and different publication. But unfortunately, no message in a book.
Better luck next time I mumbled to myself. :)
© Deekshita Srinivas. 2014.
Well, the library certainly did serve my purpose. Books, yes. Happiness, yes (I'm one among those avid readers). But most of all, the people. Seated across the tables, wandering along the shelves, whispering as low as they can, aiming to touch below 20 hertz.
One reader with his collection of books, gazing through the pages of the book; as though there hid a treasure between the pages of the book. Probably he isn't able to absorb what is conveyed. Probably he is lost in thought. Probably he is just engrossed into his book. Probably, he's waiting for someone. But that happens in Cafeterias, right? Never-mind. Let's just call him 'The ponderer.'
At the right most corner, there is one woman, probably in her 40's, gazing. No, not at the book. Her gaze widens to her own world. She chooses to follow Newton's first law of motion. Probably the library has an aura of peace to her. Probably she has got nothing on her mind. She is still. And that's that. Because stillness is not the same as nothingness. Probably she is at her peace.
To the other extreme are a bunch of happy-go-lucky students. Giggling, whispering, winking and at the same time cautious to not disturb the others or grab the attention of the librarian. Probably they're done with their examinations and having a fun time borrowing the works of favorite authors. Oh yes, all the giggling and whispering only after each one of them had an attractive book in each of their hands. By attractive I mean, good authors.
Meanwhile my friend is busy juggling across the pages of a book that contained a zillion things to learn, that actually made no sense but was absolutely omnipotent for the examination that was to commence in a few hours.
What was I doing? Why wasn't I doing the same? Well, observing people seemed much more interesting. Much more knowledgeable: do not ask in what context.
A few walked in and a few left. A few slide across the shelves. Ah, the beguiling attribute of used books. Experience wins hands-down over description. There is something about the used books. Alphabets scribbled in a hustle, ink marks, an old leaf from the autumn fall, and if you're lucky, a message. A message in a book, that travels past hands and libraries and shelves, right away to you. Curiosity spurs imagination inside the heart.
That's for an enough. I resume to my books. The same kind of books that my friend was fighting a war with. Just different color, different author and different publication. But unfortunately, no message in a book.
Better luck next time I mumbled to myself. :)
© Deekshita Srinivas. 2014.
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