A slice of home delivered nostalgia

Today, I had a piece of nostalgia home delivered.
Wrapped in a brown recycled jute bag, with a smart plastic lock, it bore my new name, not the one that nostalgia was used to.
But then, nostalgia didn't know me.
It knows Ma.
Nostalgia was books borrowed from the British Council Library (BCL).
In Lucknow, BCL was situated atop a steep flight of stairs in the Mayfair building. A turn towards
the left was the entrance to the beautiful world of books.
As soon as you entered, you couldn't miss the unmistakable scent of a million books- assailing you, making you want to drown in it, as your feet sank into the plush thick carpet.
Rows upon rows of neatly labelled books with delicious titles seemed to throw themselves upon you- and many readers sat with their backs to the reading tables, at the base of those neat shelves,lost in the world of Milton and Voltaire, as if paying homage to those great writers- genuflect, before they could carry away the book with a strong stamp at the Issuing counter.
I loved leafing through those books that Ma borrowed- Martin Amis, Virginia Woolf- and while she would get them issued,a peek at the latest publications which often showed rows of happy people seated on a thick carpet of grass- smiling into the camera- advertising scholarships for the UK.
Once we were armed with our new possessions, we would step into the nearby Moti Mahal restaurant for a glass of frothy cold coffee and steaming hot Masala Dosa. My travels around the world have acquainted me with a lot of varied world cuisines, but the taste of that sweet milky coffee and crispy golden dosa is yet to be replicated.
Maybe it was my Ma's company which made the meal unforgettable- that glow of satisfaction on her face made her such a beautiful sight- maybe it was the novelty of the experience.
Today, BCL has gone online. There is no physical library and no plush carpets. No rows of shelves making you feel like Alice in Bookland. You choose from a virtual library of books, which get home delivered to you.
Yet, the charm of that long lost habit still remains.
Thank you, Ma, for introducing me to this golden pastime!