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“970, 980, 990, 1000.”
He completed counting the books stacked in the corner and made note of the same in the notebook he held. Keeping the notebook beside the desk littered with old newspapers and plastic bottles, he sat in the broken moulded chair.
‘A thousand books’, he thought. ‘Is it enough? It should be.’
When the clock struck 1 pm, he stood and pulled the shutter down from inside. He carried the books to a room inside, in small sets. Once he had carried the last stack in, he flicked a switch on. The room was flooded by warm yellow light.
The room surrounded by steel racks. Racks in which numerous books were kept. Books of all kinds. From sleazy superflous pulp fiction to thick bound volumes of outdated laws and acts.
A week from the day, Badhua, who had never read a letter in his life, put up a board over his shop which said “Library For All”.

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