A Romance With Books -2

At six in the morning I got up and went to the toilet. I did everything possible to make myself look human for my interview with the dean at nine. He was tall who possessed a sense of humor. That he took me into his faculty after a few minutes of conversation. He told me I could start teaching in the coming semester, which was just a week away. He gave me two subjects, English literature and Sociology. When I reminded him that I had never taught sociology, he smiled and said that was good, for then I would be learning a new discipline. He was the only dean I have ever worked with who put a great trust in my ignorance. After making arrangements with the owner of a boarding house which he referred me, I searched the city for materials to use in my forthcoming academic adventure.

My collection increased with works that I found in the most unlikely corners of the city. I bought and Encyclopedia on installment plan, I was an indiscriminate collector. I was always on the lookout for bargains. I read all my books, finding them helpful to my struggle to be a good writer. In my romance with books, I sometimes met other collector. There is no stereo-type portrait of collectors, they come in all shapes and sizes, but they betray themselves of respect and care, as one would speak about a beloved, and would never be at a lost for words to describe their latest achievement.

A Romance With Books -1

Whenever I pass by a bookstore, I recall the days when I was struggling to collect a decent library. That was long ago, when five pesos could buy you a brand new, hardbound copy of your favorite book. So when I was in college, I often dreamed of a house with bookshelves reaching from floor to ceiling, with all the books printed with my ex libries. Being poor and subsisting academically only on scholarship, the dream had a long way reaching reality. By the time I got my degree, I had a few pocketbooks, though. I was penniless and now unemployed. I sought the help of our dean. I quite humbly (for I had in the past caused him trouble), that I needed a teaching job soon or I would perish in the unsafe world. I was hoping a position in the faculty of my own college. He nodded his white haired head and told me to come back in a week’s time. When I went back to him on the appointed day, he gave me a letter of recommendation to a far university. I thanked him but refused the letter and left at once, hardly containing my irritation. I suspected he wanted to exile me to that violent no-man’s island as self-punishment for all the grief I had caused him.

A few days later I bumped into a former classmate who was then a teacher at the near university where I should supposed to teach. He told me stories of his nice life in that mountain city that made me mouth water. She said I could join of it if I liked; all I had to do was send an application to the dean and he would check for me. I did and he did. Out of complete ignorance, I miscalculated my journey’s time and arrived at the bus station in the evening. My teeth chattered in the cold. I could not afford a hotel room. The only way is to stay in a station. I noticed two clerks in the dispatcher’s office engaged in a game of chess. To pass away my hunger, I went in and silently watched them. It was a nearing midnight when they finished. I went to lie down on a bench. I hardly slept that night. I noticed only one other fellow there who could not afford a hotel room. I felt safe in that huge corner whose embrace was the first hospitable welcome I had in that city.

more in next post..........