- Written by V Durgadevi
Some childhood memories remain so vivid that time cannot fade them. For me, one such memory is Sangeeth Library, a small private library located near my home.
My relationship with books began very early. I was only seven or eight years old when I first started walking into that little library on my own. From that age, reading quietly became part of my everyday life.
Those were the days of video decks and video cassettes. The shop itself was small, but to a child it felt like a place filled with wonders. On one side, about 150 to 200 books were neatly arranged inside a glass cupboard. On the other stood a specially designed L-shaped almirah where audio and video cassettes were carefully placed in rows.
But there was another corner that left a lasting impression on my young mind.
A small glass display shelf—carefully locked—held an array of colourful imported perfumes. They shone softly under the shop light like precious objects in a showcase. Their price, people used to say, was almost like the price of an elephant—something only the elite could afford.
In those days, even stepping into such a shop felt like entering a place meant for a different social world. And yet, there I was—a small child—walking in without hesitation.
Not because I could buy anything there.
But because of books.
Books alone gave me that entry.
I had my own library membership card, which I carried carefully each time I visited. Because I borrowed books frequently and returned them quickly, the card often filled up and had to be renewed. Many times the anna who ran the library would simply issue me a new one.
From those early days, I never felt any difference between languages while choosing books. Tamil and English became natural companions in my reading journey.
Most of the books meant for children had bright covers and lively characters. The anna sometimes suggested books with pictures for easier understanding, but more often I preferred small storybooks.
Today I may not remember every title I read then—I was only seven or eight—but the shelves carried many familiar collections: Panchatantra tales, Tenali Raman stories, Vikramaditya and Vetala stories, Ambulimama stories, Balamithra magazines, Chandamama tales, and Amar Chitra Katha comics.
Alongside these were English stories for young readers—fairy tales, folk tales, humorous collections, and simple mysteries. Writers like Enid Blyton were popular among children, with series such as The Famous Five and Secret Seven. I also remember seeing books from The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and gentle storytelling by Ruskin Bond.
Sometimes the anna or akka would ask in surprise,
“Did you finish the book already?”
And I would nod quietly.
Even today, one image from those days remains clear in my mind: a little girl in a pink frock, holding a colourful book in her right hand, walking confidently into Sangeeth Library.
“I finished reading it,” she says, returning the book with quiet pride.
Then her eyes move again toward the shelves, searching for the next story.
While many children spent their free time entirely in games, I often sat quietly with a book. Sometimes I noticed the proud eyes of elders watching me—especially my father.
Years passed, but the habit never left me.
Even after marriage, reading remained a constant companion. My interests gradually expanded to Tamil novels and English literature. Later, I chose English as my subject for both my undergraduate and postgraduate studies.
Life took an unexpected turn after my schooling, and I completed my higher education through distance learning. Yet through every phase of life, I never distanced myself from books.
Today, as a teacher, not a single day passes without reading something—a book, an article, or even a few thoughtful pages. Just as eating and sleeping are essential to life, reading has become essential to mine.
Sometimes when I speak to my students, I remember that small glass shelf of perfumes in Sangeeth Library—the shelf that seemed reserved for the elite. And I tell them what life slowly taught me: if we wish to walk beside the elite with confidence, education is the path that takes us there.
Looking back now, I realize that Sangeeth Library did much more than lend books to a child.
It quietly opened the door to a larger world—a world of knowledge, confidence, and possibility.
(வ துர்காதேவி, பட்டதாரி ஆசிரியர், அரசு உயர்நிலை பள்ளி-நெசல், திருவண்ணாமலை)
{{comments.comment}}