The rain simmered down in the quiet corners of the old alley. Across the tea stall, I saw the people and the chaos caused by the rain. Some ran, afraid of getting sick; some had smiles across their faces; and some hurried to retrieve their umbrellas from their bags. The hustle and bustle of the road quietened for a while, and all I could hear were the silent whispers of raindrops, the music of the drizzle, and the chime of the old clock hanging at the tea stall. The peace around the place was enviable, and everybody stopped to smell the roses and take a moment for themselves. The tea stall was full of chatter. The flower shops beside the stall appeared to glow with the traces of rain.

The drizzle of rain and the boiling tea set the ambience of the tea stall. The noisy chatter about families, neighbours, politics, and business was never-ending. No one was open to deep matters, but scratched the surface with shallow talks. Amid the light-hearted laughter, everyone, once or twice, glanced at their mobile phones. I was surprised by how people appeared to be unconsciously attached to their gadgets. If I had my phone with me, I probably would have used it just as much. Aama asked me to buy flowers for the Satyanarayan Puja at home, expecting a quick trip. But unexpected rain disrupted my plans, and I ended up drinking tea at a stall, taking shelter from the downpour. Without a phone, I thought about how many people habitually scroll through devices.

We often don’t realise how dependent we are on gadgets. I was lost in thought when the clock’s tick jolted me out. The tea was still hot; I sipped slowly, enjoying a rare moment of solitude without the distraction of online feeds. My gaze was fixed on a familiar bookshop across the tea stall—called ‘Chetan’s Library’—its worn, rusty exterior radiated a warm, inviting feeling amidst the loud, glittering surroundings.

I asked Ram Kaka, the tea shop owner, “How has this shop managed to survive here?” He smiled and replied, “Why don’t you go inside and see for yourself?” I hesitated, unsure whether to go or ignore it. Once I did, I wasn’t ready for what was inside. The aromas of fresh roses and lilies overwhelmed my senses. The incense sticks burning before the idols of God added a divine atmosphere. The books—oh, the thousands of books that lined the different aisles—took me back to my school days. While deeply engrossed in reading, the quiet moments among the books made me forget about everything else—the soft giggling with friends, talking about our favourite characters, and the calm atmosphere was a kind of therapy.

Everyone was immersed in their own worlds, and the warmth inside the bookshop contrasted with the chaos outside. I was so absorbed in taking it all that I hardly heard the voice calling me. “Hello, Yug?” When I looked back, I was surprised and remembered why the name on the bookshop sign sounded familiar. It was Chetan dai, the security guard at our school at that time.

We would gather around Chetan dai to listen to stories from his book collection as we waited for our bus to take us home from school. We were impressed by how he found time to read despite his busy schedule. I was happy to see him there and asked how things were going. “Still among the book lovers, dai?” I asked playfully, noticing his friendly manner with people who enjoy reading different genres and exchanging books. He smiled warmly and said, “Not quite, but I have it going.”

I was interested in hearing from him and followed him to his desk. The atmosphere felt majestic, surrounded by books and seeing people cherish words and stories. “I didn’t expect it to be like this. This is so grand.”

“Well, the love for books speaks for itself. And the rest is my dedication,” he replied.

“But why?” I asked. “Can the shop help you make a living?” I looked around and saw some people reading, but only a few were buying. Instead of answering, he asked me, “What are you doing nowadays, Yug?” I instantly replied, “Nothing dai, I have just finished my bachelor’s in arts and am currently searching for a job.”

“Haven’t you searched online?”

“No, not really. I don’t find the online world trustworthy.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied. “The online world can feel detached and unreal. The same goes for books available online. People value the feeling of holding something real. It’s not just about the book; it’s the emotion you carry while reading and experiencing the lives of the characters. And to answer your next question, no, it doesn’t make a substantial living, but it’s enough.

I am already old and do not need money. Instead, this old man prefers the company of books.” I felt rather foolish for asking that question to someone whose love for books surpasses everything. I roamed the different aisles and enjoyed looking at the variety of books. Later, as I returned to him, he asked me, “What are you doing nowadays besides searching for jobs? Still hosting programmes like back in school?” I was caught off guard. “You still remember that?”

“Of course, you were quite the charmer, too. Always knew your words before a mass.”

A brief moment of happiness crossed my face, but I was quickly pulled back to reality. “No, dai, I left that behind long ago. These days, everything revolves around the internet and AI.”

He asked, “Why have you let your skills deteriorate? In this AI era, why haven’t you sharpened your abilities and unlocked your potential? Do you really think you’ll land the job as easily as you believe?” I was left speechless. Yet, it was true. Besides achieving high marks, what have I truly learnt over the years? I fell into reflection. What would it take to change my path? Can I focus and foster my personal growth? The thought of an uncertain future sent a chill down my spine. Chetan dai understood my dilemma and gently placed his hand on my back. “Don’t worry, Yug, you still have time to grow and surpass your past self. Recognise all your excuses and put your phone away. I’m sure you’ll find where to begin.”

He then gave me a book by Simon Sinek, ‘Start with Why,’ mentioning it could be helpful. I appreciated his kindness.

As I left the bookstore to buy the flowers Aama asked for, I started questioning my actions. Despite the internet and social media at my fingertips, I wondered why I wasn’t dedicating more effort to personal growth. The internet is there, but I was using it to drown myself rather than leveraging it as a tool for development. This realisation shook me. Was I so unaware of my own shortcomings?

On the ride home, lost in my thoughts with the flowers in hand, I felt the urge to change. No one will come to save you. Respect your time and strive to outdo yourself. Difficult moments won’t defeat you if you work honestly. I only went to buy a bouquet but left with seeds of wisdom. As I lay in bed reading, I was committed to transforming myself and planting the seeds of knowledge.