Rvi Upadhye

It was a cold winter evening in Canada. By Sunset, temperature dipped to subzero. To make matters worse it had started snowing. In an alien country, with nowhere to go, to pass evenings was always an ordeal. After all how often can you hire a cab and go around a small town like Midlands?

The entire small population seemed to have retired in their cozy homes, probably relaxing next to the fireplace with their near and dear ones. All I could see from my hotel room was the spread out homes with their tiny lights sparkling inside the rooms with hardly a sign of movement. Life seemed to have come to a standstill.

At last exasperated with sheer monotony, I moved out of my hotel room, wandered listlessly in the lobby and at last entered into the only curio shop.

As soon as I pushed the door, a chime rang sonorously announcing my arrival. I was welcomed with a warm and polite greeting by a distinguished looking elderly lady, pouring over some book behind the counter under the light coming from a table lamp. With a mop of snow-white hair, wrinkled face, warm eyes behind her spectacles and a slightly stooping gait she looked very graceful. Her face was serene and her eyes glowed with kindness. She must have been in her seventies or early eighties. Upon declining a courteous "May I help you, son?" by "Just browsing, thank you ma'm", I set myself upon browsing through a large collection of old books on the shelf. Most of the books were leather bound, well preserved and in spite of being quite old they were in excellent condition. The collector must have been a connoisseur. A tasteful collection indeed! My obvious admiration for the cultured taste of the collector probably could be easily seen on my face. This pleasant surprise did not go unnoticed.

I found a leather bound volume of Reader's Digest condensed edition of Paul Gallico's collected works - of particular interest to me. It was a rare finding and I kept the book aside. Seeing me do this, the lady rose and started talking and also recommending various other books from the collection. Her explanation about the books, the authors spoke volumes about her taste and immense knowledge. My repeated attempts to enquire about the price of the book of my particular interest were getting ignored, probably inadvertently. She proceeded with great gusto and enthusiasm and took me around the shop; showed me fascinating potpourri, creations of by local artisans, World War medals and memorabilia, dolls and even offered me home made maple syrup, all integral parts of any small town curio shops.

Patiently nodding my head with approval, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, sense of beauty, patriotism and last but not the least her old world charm and graciousness, I continued to try to persist with my query about the price of the chosen Paul Galico book.

At last I was successful. She responded by quoting an affordable price. I was very happy.

But then, all of a sudden her enthusiasm seemed to have waned. She looked tired. With heavy steps and a pronounced stoop she came back to the cash counter. For the last time, she wiped the book clean, probably caressed it, put it in an envelope, accepted the money, and murmured her gratitude before bidding me good night. I was not sure if I saw a tear or two in her tired and worn eyes. I came out from the shop very happy for having spent a fruitful two hours and having bought a book long cherished by me. I returned to the room and slept.

Next evening I wanted to go to the shop again. I was disappointed. The sign on the shop said

"We are closed today. Regret inconvenience Dorothy Roosevelt"

I went to the room planning to spend a pleasant evening in the company of my favourite Paul Galico bought the previous day. I opened the book and on the front page it simply read

"To my darling wife Dorothy, on our fiftieth anniversary, a tribute to our poetic fifty years of marriage

- Graham Roosevelt"