A walk down memory lane: Three generations of nerds
Reading has helped me pull out of some down time in life. Photo:Fatima Arif
By Fatima Arif
There are some family relics that you know exist, but don’t quite remember which corner of the house they have been stored in. The other day, I stumbled upon one of my old scrapbooks. Skimming through it, I came across an old envelope from the British Council Library addressed to my Nana abu (maternal grandfather for the non-native readers). Opening it, I found two copies of his membership card and two typed sheets stapled together. From the same scrapbook I found two more modern versions of the British Council’s membership cards, one belonging to my mother, with her immaculate signatures on it, and the other one belonging to yours truly with the word ‘student’ stamped on it.This sight had so much nostalgia attached to it.
I lost my Nana abu when I was six, so my memory of him is mostly that of being dotted on and of how, being the first grandchild, I had liberties that no one else had. We didn’t have enough time together to make memories around books and this just adds to my list of what ifs. Despite this, I credit my love for biographies, history and historical fiction to him. While I was still indulged in my Nancy Drew, Famous Five, Hardy Boys etcetera, there were his books neatly lined in my mother’s shelves that were a source of constant intrigue. Once, the intrigue got the better of me and I read his copy of Mother by M. Gorky. My mother’s shelves ended up becoming a part of my library and as they say, the rest is history.
My mother, who is a doctor by profession, spent her career in her alma mater - Fatima Jinnah Medical Collage and Sir Ganga Ram Hospital. Once I grew out of the day care located in the pediatric department of the Ganga Ram Hospital, the British Council Library was my next stop. Mama had her own streak of nerd and it helped that the library was in her neighborhood, so no surprise that she was a card carrying member.
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British Council library. Photo credit: Fatima Arif
I started out in the kids section of the library; carrying my selection with me the entire time I was there until it was time for her to pick me up and to check out my books on her card. I have memories of doing my summer vacations homework in the library, making friends with other kids, watching cartoon movies with them (each one of us had our separate head set and it was super cool) and then ending up using the audio section for English language skills.
When the hunger pangs struck, the library’s café served a huge serving of their special killer French fries with a generous helping of ketchup.
Time went by and then I was eligible for my own laminated card. It was my nerd achievement unlocked. The day, the uncle behind the checkout counter handed me over my card, I walked out with a spring in my step, with my two books (the maximum limit of books), issued on my own card.
When the library was shut down, we used to drive by the barricaded gate with much longing.
British Council Library nurtured my habit of reading. Reading is a soothing activity for me. I am never bored. The habit has helped pull me out of some down time in life. When the library announced that it is reopening, like many other who had a strong bond with the place, I was quite excited. On my first trip there, even though they have changed the main library’s structure, in my mind I was walking the same old steps and could see the old structure as clearly as if it was still standing there.
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Wall quote inside the British Council library. Photo: Fatima Arif
Remember, the two typed sheets I mentioned? That was a feedback questionnaire with a cover letter, personally signed by the then librarian, Mr. Abdul Hadi Khan. Twenty-four questions in total. Being a marketer by profession, this feedback sheet reveals the generational gap in general and specifically of my field. There was a time, when people had the patience to go through twenty-four questions and it was not a stretch to expect them to respond with full diligence. Now, touching the two digit figure of ten is the maximum stretch we dare to touch through our Google forms.
