Einstein once remarked, “The only thing that you absolutely have to know is the location of the library.” Centuries before him, Hippocrates had observed that “Walking is man’s best medicine.” Merging the wisdom of both the savants, I have cultivated the modest yet meaningful habit of walking to the State Library situated at Middle Point in Port Blair—now renamed Sri Vijayapuram.
Each morning, at around nine, I step out of my home, cross Moulana Azad Road, and embark upon what I fondly call my pilgrimage to knowledge and health. The air, suffused with the appetising aroma of South Indian breakfast delicacies wafting from roadside stalls, lends a pleasant start to my little odyssey. Turning left at the juice corner, I descend a gently sloping lane, carefully keeping to the pavement. Navigating through a medley of attractions and a motley of distractions on the way, I reach the library in roughly twenty minutes, covering a distance of around two kilometres.
This short excursion is a fascinating fusion of pleasure and peril. The pavement is rarely unoccupied. In one stretch, a few indolent cattle recline in post-breakfast languor; a little farther on, two women—meeting from opposite directions—collide only to dissolve into an animated gossip. Near a tea-stall, habitual patrons stand on the footpath, sipping steaming tea and crunching vadas, blithely oblivious to passers-by. At times, a vehicle is parked squarely across the walkway, forcing pedestrians to step down onto the road before regaining the pavement a few steps later.
Before I reach the sanctuary of books, two busy intersections test my vigilance lest some reckless biker or a swashbuckling driver may appear from nowhere. Not once have I seen a vehicle pause at a zebra crossing to concede right of way to a pedestrian. It is at such moments that I recall the sardonic words of the famous writer Ashfaq Ahmad, which I heard on a radio program entitled ‘Talqeen Shah’ some forty years ago:
“Kadey paidal challan waaliyan da vi istehqaq hoya?” — Have the rights of pedestrians ever been recognised?
The library’s entrance announces itself with an arch-shaped signboard and a rectangular display listing its various sections. A short passage flanked by beautifully mown and trimmed grass, adorned with decorative trees and seasonal flowers, leads to the main edifice—a dignified three-storeyed structure of unpretentious grace. The ground floor houses the administrative section and a conference hall; the first floor accommodates the reference, newspaper and magazine sections along with two reading rooms—open even on holidays—where earnest students may pursue their studies utilising the free WiFi facility. The second floor shelters the lending section, children’s corner, and book stacks.
Among its finer distinctions are a senior citizens’ room on the ground floor and a women’s section above. An Art & Craft -cum-Chess Room for children is the latest addition.
A pervasive calm reigns throughout the premises, fostering an atmosphere conducive to reflection and learning. The collection—exceeding one and a half lakh volumes—caters amply to both academic and literary appetites. Newspapers and magazines in nearly half a dozen languages broaden their cosmopolitan appeal. Twin staircases and a ramp ensure ease of access; clean washrooms and filtered drinking water add to visitors’ comfort. Senior citizens are offered complimentary tea while children are given a treat of chocolates.
After browsing through the newspapers, flipping and riffling through a few magazines, and scanning through fifty-odd pages of a favourite book, I retrace my steps homeward.
This brief yet purposeful walk rejuvenates the body, invigorates the mind, and leaves the spirit quietly renewed. Altogether, it is not just an exercise, but an enriching investment.
Bilal Ahmad Shamim
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