library after hours

Amol woke up every morning to live a life for others, to run the errands and chores without feelings, like a robot. Life had made him act in ways he never imagined a year back. But the duty calls and mouths to feed snatched away Amol’s youth silently to everyone’s ignorance. The mundane routine had become his habit and the world had nearly forgotten that he was just a young boy with dreams shattered and responsibilities burdened.

Seventeen year old, Amol worked in the shady, dingy two by two grocery store under Parimal Babu who was too old to sit in the store himself. Amol worked in his shop from 8am to 8pm. He woke up at 4am every morning, ran to the nearby pond, cleaned himself, gathered water for the household, cooked for his four younger siblings , send them off to school and walked down to work. He sold the minimum things the shop offered, maintained organised records, behaved pleasantly with the customers, looked after Parimal Babu’s ageing parents as the shop and house are part of one whole unit and since Amol had requested to get off early three days a week. It was like an understanding between the two.

The only respite Amol ever had was when he went to the National library on Ali Avenue, three days a week. The library generally closed for readers at 7pm but managing to befriend the night guard after a lot of cajoling, he got a personalised and customised access to it. Rushing from Parimal Babu’s store in the first bus available, Amol would reach the library by 7.15-7.20pm on Monday ,Wednesday and Friday. The guard had to compulsorily be given a cigarette, or pan as bribe and only then would he open up the section Amol wanted to explore that evening.

Untimely death of his parents and the responsibility of four younger siblings, all sisters aged between three and ten, naturally forced Amol to quit school a year back in spite of being a bright meritorious scholar. However the urge to know and learn remained undying in him and he missed no opportunity to read wherever and whenever he could. So, National library was a temple where he visited to worship the goddess of knowledge with open arms.

Visiting the library for over a year,Amol knew the library like the back of his hand, its racks and sections his own. With no one to disturb him other than a tiny mouse by the archaeology section he had a gala time during his visits. The shelves would respond to him and drop out a book or two that would catch his attention for the evening. There was an understanding with the silent empty library as if they both enjoyed each other’s company dearly. Sometimes the night guard Ramdeo would come by to observe him and remind him that he was being watched after all. Amol could however care less about the world in those few hours he had access to the pandora’s box and engrossed himself in studies of the world. Amol knew the holy texts as well as he understood the atheists views. He wept for hours after reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and got energised with life after reading ‘The Kite Runner’. One day he was reading ‘Mein Kamph’ getting goosebumps thinking about Hitler and the very next day he was reading ‘Why did Hitler hate the jews’ and spitting in the air. He felt one with the fictional characters and associated himself with so many. The real life characters he drew inspiration from. Night at the library with books galore made Amol no less than a prince with all the priceless books as his limitless possessions.

He guarded the books with utmost precision and honoured the knowledge that he gained. He imbibed every ounce of energy and information that he could in the few hours at the library to keep him kicking for the rest of the days. His life was a bore with no friends to talk to, no one to look up to but the hushed after hours in the National library created the perfect ambience for the young boy to feel rich and happy. The characters of the books were his friends, relatives and even role models. Ramdeo sometimes came in with a cup of tea which he sipped with a lot of noise and that disturbed Amol too much to express. Though he never uttered his repulsion, he silently begged pardon from the books for Ramdeo’s improper behaviour. The minute hand in the giant clock would tick away as the only sound of music and Amol would continue to bask in the splendour of the library. The days he read the ghost stories he turned on the lights of the entire room and days he felt sad and morose with the death or torture of a character Amol switched to the one lamp in the shade. On windy days Amol sat by the window and let the pages flicker a little and laughed himself as if the pages tickled him . Amol’s oneness with the library was eerie. The National Library at Ali Avenue could have been a storehouse for some, an information centre for others but for the young boy with nothing else, it was inconceivable space of extraordinary importance, a part of his existence.

One such library Fridays Amol never reached the library. It worried Ramdeo extremely as Amol never missed a day. Irrespective of the difficulty, seasonal disturbance, Amol always made it. He breathed his oxygen from the books, the silent rooms and narrow book shelves. Without wasting any time Ramdeo called the Parimal Babu’s shop which was shut for the day. That night the library seemed too strange for Ramdeo to look after. It was as if the rooms were screaming in silence and the books wanted to speak. The windows wanted to break open and the mouse lay still. Generally Ramdeo took customary strolls to check everything inside but that night he skipped. He felt too uneasy for reasons unknown and worried about Amol greatly.

The next morning he called the shop again, only to find out that Amol had drowned in the pond the previous morning and never came out alive. A chill ran down his spine as he hung up....did the library feel the loss last evening? Is that why everything seemed so odd? Ramdeo guards the National library even today but on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays Amol is there too. He can feel it...though he doesn’t dare enter the rooms again.