A day in 1923. <br />The reading room is full. <br />In pin-dropp silence, <br />Accountants, homoeopaths, <br />Petty shopkeepers, students, clerks <br />Turn the pages <br />Of the morning papers. <br />At the issuing desk, <br />Some are borrowing books: <br />A detective novel in Urdu <br />In two volumes; <br />A free translation <br />Of a poem by Goldsmith <br />Printed in Etawah, <br />Titled Yogi Arthur. <br /> <br />The books <br />Are still on the shelves, <br />Their pages brittle <br />And spines missing. <br />New readers occupy the chairs, <br />Turning the pages <br />Of the morning papers. <br />Turning pages too, <br />But of dusty records <br />In a back room, <br />Is a researcher from Cambridge, England. <br />It's her second visit, <br />And everyone here knows her. <br />She's looking at Indian reading habits <br />In the colonial period. <br /> <br />Outside, <br />On the pavement, <br />Is a thriving vegetable market. <br />Amidst the stalls, <br />A knife-grinder sets up <br />His portable establishment <br />And opens for business. <br /> <br />[From: Both Sides of the Sky (anthology ed. by Eunice de Souza)]<br /><br />Arvind Krishna Mehrotra<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bharati-bhavan-library-chowk-allahabad/
