You know how some people have a “thing”? A place that just gets them? For some it’s the beach, for others it’s a cosy cafe. Mine turned out to be the library. Unexpected, I know. Stick with me.
And no, I wasn’t a library kid. Didn’t haunt the shelves as a child, didn’t whisper dramatically over encyclopedias as a teen. This came later. Much later.
Picture this: Mumbai, 2015. Corporate job, long hours, the kind of workplace where “work-life balance” is something people say with a completely straight face. You know the drill, if you’ve ever stared at a spreadsheet long enough that it starts staring back, you get it. I was clocking over 12 hours most days, running on autopilot, and slowly turning into a very tired, very bored version of myself.
One day, I cut my lunch break short and wandered into the tiny library they had tucked away on one of the office floors. And something happened. Something shifted. I sat down, picked up a book, and felt calm. Actually calm. Like my mind had been running at 200 kms an hour and someone had finally, gently, pressed pause.
That little office library became my sanctuary. I read The Fault in Our Stars there. Life of Pi. I tore through Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code, Angels & Demons, The Lost Symbol, one after another. And every single time I walked in, I felt like I could breathe again. It helped me cope with what was, honestly, a pretty grueling and sometimes toxic work environment. I genuinely don’t know how I would have gotten through that period without it.
After that job, I decided to quit and pursue an MBA. For the entrance exam prep, I found myself at a local library in Mumbai, and once again, it just worked for my brain in a way that studying at home never quite did. When I eventually got into the University of Manchester, their library was like a magnet. During the intensity of the MBA coursework, I kept coming back to it. Same feeling, different city.
And now here I am in Montreal – figuring out life, possibly a PhD on the horizon, the kind of big uncertain moment where your thoughts can get very loud – and what do I keep returning to? The library. Of course.
So what is it, exactly? What is this thing?
I think part of it is the quiet, but not just the absence of noise. It’s a particular kind of quiet. It’s the peace of being completely surrounded by people and yet having absolutely zero social obligation. You’re not alone, but no one is demanding anything from you. There’s no performance required. You don’t have to be “on.” You can just be thinking your thoughts, reading your words, existing in your own little world while the world hums softly around you. For someone like me, that balance feels like a gift.
And then there’s what it does to my mind. Something about that space just quiets the noise down. It makes me feel calmer, more present, more myself. It’s like the library has this gentle authority, “shh, slow down, you’re okay” and somehow, I always listen.
I find myself fascinated by this idea, honestly. The way certain spaces make you feel. How a room, a chair, the smell of books, the particular slant of light through a window, how all of that can reach right into you and rearrange something. I don’t fully understand it. But I know it’s real because I’ve felt it, over and over again, across cities and countries and chapters of my life.
It’s an unusual fondness, I’ll admit. Don’t tell the cafes though. I still need them to think we’re close.