There’s Magic in the School Library
“Books are your ticket to the whole world!”— Sir Billy Connolly
“Roll number 64!”
Mrs. Jeremiah called my name for the umpteenth time, looking at me coldly over her spectacles.
Ridden with the guilt of missing her call the previous times (for I was busy doodling on my rough copy), I navigated the high brown benches and arrived at her desk with my friends giggling all around for no reason.
Yes, that was childhood! That was when happiness came to us in all forms . . . smiles, giggles and loud laughter.
“Library card?” Mrs Jeremiah asked in her usual nonchalant tone.
I handed her the dark yellow card and returned to my seat, excited to look at the book she has chosen for me — the book that I will go to sleep with and wake up to for the next seven days . . . SEVEN days!
“Oh, nooo!” I mumbled as a cold shiver rolled down my spine.
I threw the paperback and put my head down in grief. After every two minutes, I looked at the cover. The longer I looked, the more it detested me. Resting on my desk, overfilled with stationeries and a giant crayon box, there it was — R.L.Stine’s Goosebumps: Stay Out of the Basement.
As a child, I have always been exposed to royal fairytales, cute animal books and colourful worksheets (the only place where I could flaunt my artistic skills). So, for a 10-year-old kid who has never seen the uglier side of things — R.L.Stine was different and difficult.
“Why did Mrs. Jeremiah give this? Why can’t we choose books ourselves?” I questioned under my breath.
After a few more seconds of meaningless brooding, I picked up the book. The cover with the skeleton hand unlocking the door knob unnerved me. I gulped down my fears and flipped through its pages, fearing that a ghost will emerge and snatch my soul into an unknown world.
The ghost did arrive but it really didn’t need to snatch my soul. I volunteered. As ghosts, spirits and demons unfolded in the crispy yellow pages of the book, I allowed myself to be transported into a different world — where things were different and people didn’t follow the earthly rules.
Since then, every Tuesday in school became my Goosebumps day. I read R.L. Stine’s masterpieces multiple times until I could remember the stories by just glancing at the covers. For a happy-go-lucky child in grade 4, Goosebumps came as a welcome respite from innocent stories and flowery language in contemporary children’s books. It was real. And damn scary.
I have grown up to be an admirer of ghost stories. And today, I own the complete series of Goosebumps, neatly placed on one of my ever-increasing number of bookshelves. Now when I flip through them, they don’t scare me anymore (because they are not meant to scare a thirty-year-old!)
But I am glad that Goosebumps unlocked my fears and opened my eyes to the sights, sounds and smells of a different world. There lies the magic of books.
And yes, Mrs Jeremiah is still doing great as a librarian! I hope she chooses Goosebumps over and over again and helps hundreds of children to overcome their fears by doing the easiest and most wonderful thing — handing them a book.
