Skip to main content

Whispers and Words #13 | Curator of Memories

***

One day,
The librarian looked around,
And all he saw
Were dead trees.

***

Explaining my poems is going to become a bad habit, I guess, but I have started doing this because one day I got an Anonymous comment on my post that elaborated in detail what I was conveying through the poem. Honestly, at first, I was flattered. The comment was well-worded and captured everything I had in mind. But then I realised that the comment seemed to be AI-generated. Despite my best efforts, I was a little disappointed.

So here I go again, explaining what I wrote above. No need to consult AI.

Starting with a simpler explanation...

The lines are a scathing comment on the gradual decline of reading culture. Why read when information is just a prompt away? Nobody visits the library anymore. The librarian has nobody but the books to keep him company, which are nothing but remains of old trees.

Now comes the heavy version...

It's common knowledge that paper in books comes from trees. So, if you fail to comprehend or appreciate all the written content, the wisdom associated with the words, all you'll be left with are remnants of old trees. Sometimes, in his weakest moment, even the librarian who holds the books in high regard finds them devoid of meaning, maybe because of something going on in his personal life. The books remain the same. What changes, however momentarily, is his perception of the knowledge contained in them.

Now transitioning into personal territory with a little reluctance...

I have always been a curator of memories, the way a librarian is for books. My love for writing originated from there. I carried a pocket notebook with me everywhere, capturing everything I wanted to remember. Then came the tools. I transitioned to a note-taking App. Then came cheap internet and high-resolution cameras. The world hastened its pace, but my role as a curator of memories remained the same. I captured photos and videos wherever I went, and built a repository of my favourite memories on Google Photos. On the last day of college, as a parting gift, I shared a Google Photos Album with all my friends.

I was going through that album a few days back, and the words just appeared in my mind.

One day,
The librarian looked around,
And all he saw
Were dead trees.

***

Did you like what I was trying to convey? Leave your thoughts in the comments below. Have a good day!



Labels:

Comments

  1. Anonymous12:55 PM, February 24, 2026

    Four lines, and they hit harder than a page of explanation.

    The brilliance is in the reversal - a guardian of books reduced to seeing only timber. It says as much about mood and perception as it does about culture.

    The transition from librarian to memory curator is beautifully done. When meaning fades, even archives feel hollow.

    This is quietly devastating. Loved it.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Whispers and Words #1

*** Finding solace In an air-conditioned space, The city slept While I wandered the streets, Restless, Perfecting the ending Of a sentence. The cool breeze made me forget That it was a summer night. Then, out of nowhere, A cold whisper Sent a shiver down my spine. "You have to choose, my friend. Be a writer or be content." "Why can't I be both?" I asked the emptiness. And the whisper scoffed at me, "You and your consistent pursuit To get the best of both worlds. Buckle up then! You are about to be tested." I stumbled over a rock And found the ending I was looking for. "If a river wants to meet the sea, Twisting and turning, It will somehow find its way Even through the mountains." If a whisper could smile, It did, and said, "We will see." *** I don't have a million readers - not by choice, obviously - just a handful. But they mean to me as much as the millions would do. And one of those readers reminded me that I had taken a lon...
1 comment
Read more

LIFE AND LIES #61 | The Summit Within

Dehradun to Sankri On an early morning, towards the end of March, I was sipping a cup of tea in Dehradun, surrounded by a bunch of strangers loading their backpacks on a traveller which was going to take us to Sankri, the starting point of Kedarkantha Trek. A thought struck me. Somewhere around this place, not so long ago, Ruskin Bond was racking his brains to come up with the name of a fictitious town. Subsequently, he came up with the name: Dehra, having spent his early adolescent days in Dehradun, the place which inspired many of his characters and stories. Ingenious, huh? I am struggling with a similar challenge. Let’s see what I come up with. I finished my tea. And soon we headed on our way. The first view of the mountains came when we were about to reach Mussourie. A smile spread across my face automatically in its unique way, like it happens when you meet an old friend after a long time. I was hoping to spot Cambridge Book Depot on the way, or even Ruskin Bond if I w...
Post a Comment
Read more

LIFE AND LIES #57 | Neil Nitin Mukesh (#2)

"Krishna is a married man but he's always revered along with Radha, his lover. What if... say Rukmani, said to Krishna one day, that she'd rather be Radha?"  Nitin uttered his thought out loud then looked around the room. While the others had stopped long back, Neil was pouring himself another drink. Only he could drink so much on a Sunday night, because unlike the others, his Monday had been declared a Bank holiday. It was Mukesh who was sober enough to reply to his question. "Radha spent her years in sadness longing for Krishna. Rukmani would not want to be in her place." "What if...'' smiled Nitin. He always placed the actual question he wanted to ask as the second question. "One day, after reading my work, my wife says to me that she'd rather be one of the women I write about so passionately." "The women you choose to write about are also inherently sad," Mukesh was quick with a reply. "Ask your wife then, would ...
Post a Comment
Read more