The Library

The wrought iron gates  are, always  partly open .

 Rusted into introversion . 

Reluctantly admitting jeep loads of perfumed , spray -haired ladies . The old gates always creak , in protest , at this intrusion . Privacy invasion . 

Some sick (or smart ) soul decided that this area of benign neglect , needed a fresh coat of paint , some bugles , and smart , heel-clicking soldiers . 

Some buildings have souls. This is definitely an old soul , as souls go . There is peace , calm and serenity . Stubborn moss covers even most assiduously painted walls . 

Moss also covers the lawn , as a large peepul tree claims most of the skylight and sun . Army steadfastly plants new grass , every spring , to dry during summer , and be overrun by gleefully green slimy moss during monsoon. 

It is old , brooding and a place full of ancient wisdom . If places had souls , this one's as old as Buddha. The flowerpots either are overflowing , choked with greenery , or are dead , shrivelled . 

The lack of direct sun , keeps the verandah cool , like a bower , even during the heights of summer . 

 

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Inside there are shelves , iron shelves , wooden shelves , concrete , in built cupboards . All overflowing with books . Books that were bought and perused by the British residents of the Cantonment , in the 1920s , 1930s , and newer additions, added later. 

It is a treasure to behold , and an honour to share . 

Every yellowed page smells of nostalgic perusal. Categories have been made , again with the same steady , enthusiastic , assiduity , which the army is famous for . But the boys who issue books , are rotated daily , and the classifications create greater confusion . 

The most confusing being the alphabetical classification.

One might find "chicken soup for soul" in the cookery section. Or Chaucer snuggling up with Cartland (of the Barbara kind), or National Geographic issues old , sitting on an unpainted , hastily made wooden shelf , beneath old issues of Navbharat times . Hindi novels sit in a separate corner , unread, like poor relatives from dusty provinces.

One of the best surprises was finding a robust , well-thumbed volume of  Rapidex English Course, sitting bang next to Rushdie's Shame . 

The theme is to expect the unexpected . Like a petulant , small brat in ponytail , who peered over the mahogany counter and asked for a "Kinder Joy" . The sepoy , on duty , promptly went to peer over in the "K" and then followed by "J" sections ,  only to be educated  by an older , family-wallah havildar that it was the name  of  a chocolate and not book . The kid , expectantly , silently , followed the sepoy around , sucking her thumb , in anticipation. 

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