From the outside, the magnificent 168-year-old library in the middle of Melbourne’s bustling CBD looked more like an exclusive club for the city’s elite to me, so I preferred working from one of the many cafes across the street. New to Australia, my magnifying glass was still set on Afghanistan, where the Taliban had taken over and the country was haphazardly sliding back to the dark ages.
But many cafes didn’t seem too keen to host someone buying just one or two lattes and sitting for hours at a computer. While I read about the Taliban’s morality police erasing women and girls from public life, I would often find myself distracted by the barista staring at me.
So one fine morning I dared to head towards this “exclusive club” – the State Library of Victoria – with its tall walls guarded by impressive bronze statues and sculptures. Once beyond the main entrance, I began to feel more at ease after finding there was no need to prove any affiliation or membership – everyone was welcome.
The place had an air of youthful exuberance and history and wisdom – visitors worked on their laptops among an astonishing range of books on subjects ranging from the evolution of religions to the quest for an ideal society in the western world, and everything in between. Rows and rows of books, magazines and newspaper archives.
I could not believe such a grand facility with free internet, heating and a wealth of reading material was free for everyone to access, every day of the week – not to mention the student rates for coffee and sandwiches!
Staff guided me to a bright hall where I could sip my coffee before proceeding to the library’s many reading, meeting and exhibition rooms.
Soon, a library tour guide arrived with a dozen tourists right next to me, telling them about the library’s history. “They used to keep soap just outside the library for visitors to wash their hands before coming in … and the soap was a rare commodity so it was kept locked up …” the guide told a laughing crowd, while my gaze fell on the hand sanitising stands next to the entrance.
Eager to explore more and not worried about any barista, I quickly finished my coffee and headed to the main hall. For the next six hours, I had the most productive and relaxing day in years. I managed to streamline most of my writing and research assignments, caught up with schedules and came up with brilliantly ambitious future plans. I had not felt like this in ages! The place was standing firm under my feet like a trusted launching pad.
In otherwise chaotic times, every moment here seemed to have purpose and peace.
Gaining confidence from this experience, I headed to another public library close to my home in the south-east of Melbourne. Much smaller than the state library, the Bunjil Place public library had its own flair. A diverse crowd of students working on their assignments in this award-winning facility, it was equally bustling, if not more so, than the large shopping complex across the street.
Ever since, this has been my second favourite venue, boosting my productivity as well as providing a network of new friends and acquaintances.
It was at Bunjil that I started thinking about the role of these vibrant public libraries in bringing communities together and helping individuals along their journey of excellence in life. Everyone owns the place and everyone shares it.
I rush through the last bits of my assignments when the library staff, who are good friends now, come to say goodbye. I’m already looking forward to my next visit.
• Shadi Khan Saif is a Melbourne-based journalist and former Afghanistan and Pakistan news correspondent
