“Libraries store the energy that fuels the imagination. They open up windows to the world and inspire us to explore and achieve and contribute to improving our quality of life.” – Sidney Sheldon
In our small town, there were two libraries. The first library was located far from home, and the other one was just down the street. The library was humble and too small, with very few books and visitors. I used to go to this library from time to time, but I will never forget this particular event.
Around three months ago, I borrowed some books, and I had almost finished reading them. However, I either couldn’t be bothered or didn’t have time to return them. One day after school, I decided to return the books to the library. As always, there was no one in the library except for the librarian who was busy writing something. After handing over the book, I began to browse the shelves to find another book. Suddenly, the librarian spoke up:
“I can’t give you a book. It’s been three months since you took it away. The deadline was only a week. What if you don’t bring it back?” she said, checking the deadline.
“No, I’ll bring it back. I just forgot to return it,” I replied.
While searching for a book, an old man entered the library. He wore worn-out clothes and had snow-white hair and beard. Though his pockets were empty, his mind was rich with curiosity and a hunger for knowledge. In his hands, he held two books: “Dunyoning Ishlari” by Oʻtkir KHoshimov and “War and Peace” by Tolstoy.
He handed over the book and apologized, “I’m sorry. I wanted to bring it back yesterday, but I had a terrible ache in my back and couldn’t stand due to old age. I apologize a thousand times.”
“It’s okay, don’t feel guilty. Would you like to borrow another book?” asked the librarian.
“Yes, of course, but I want to read the book here,” he replied, searching for another book.
When he saw me, he smiled kindly, took a book, and sat near the window.
You know, I felt very guilty because he apologized so much for being one day late. He had shown such remorse, while I hadn’t even said sorry once.
While others indulged in idle gossip and fleeting conversations, this old man found solace within the library’s hallowed halls. It was here that he sought refuge from the hardships of his daily life, finding comfort in the company of books rather than people. Every time I saw him at the library, he was engrossed in a book, transported to another world with other people. He was very poor but rich with curiosity and knowledge.
Iroda Khudoyorova was born on April 8th in the Jizzakh region of Tashkent city. Currently, she is studying as a senior student at a vocational college in Jizzakh. She has written many stories and some poems published in journals and newspapers.