Book Uncle and Me (7 page)

—

City Hall

TWENTY DAYS AFTER
our victory, here are all the people who go to city hall to welcome Mayor Karate Samuel as he begins his new job. Me, Reeni, Anil. Anil's grandmother. My parents. Mrs. Rao. Shoba Aunty and Arvind Uncle. Chinna Abdul Sahib, carrying his number two best drum, since the very best one is too precious (and also too big) to carry around. The boy from 2C, his parents and his grandmother, and their yappy dog. The newly-marrieds, the school bus driver, the fruit man and his wife, the istri lady, the istri lady's daughter-in-law, her son, her grandchildren. Six babies and three donkeys. The donkeys belong to relatives of the istri lady. They have come all the way from where they live by the river on the edge of the city.

Very quietly, making no fuss, Book Uncle comes with us.

In Anil's hand is the karate book, which I have given to him. He takes it with him wherever he goes. According to him, you never know when a karate book will come in handy, which makes sense to me.

We arrive at city hall and tell the doorman we want to see the mayor. He seems a bit startled, but he runs in and tells someone.

He comes back and asks, “Do you have an appointment?”

“We are voters,” says the istri lady. “Do voters need appointments?”

The doorman disappears once more. Then he returns and tells us to wait.

We wait. Five minutes go by. Ten. Fifteen. Eighteen.

Just in time — that is to say before I explode with impatience — the new mayor himself comes out of city hall.

“My loyal supporters!” he says, flashing his shiny white teeth at us. “Thank you for coming to see me! I have not won this election.
You
have won this election.”

He waits for applause.

That is exactly what I thought.
We
won. But now, coming from him, it sounds fake.

There is silence, only breathing, and all of us are waiting, waiting.

I look at Reeni. She looks at Anil. Anil looks at me.

Who is going to take charge?

Anil holds out the karate book. I shake my head in confusion.

“Just take it,” he whispers.

So I take it from him, and somehow just having a book in my hand reminds me why we are all here.

I clutch the book very, very tight. I say, my voice so very small in this very big crowd of people, “Mayor Karate Samuel, sir. My name is Yasmin Kader and … and I want you to meet Book Uncle.”

Mayor Karate Samuel stares at me as if I have just spoken in some foreign language.

At last he smiles brightly.

“Oh. Yes,” he says. “I remember. Something about a library, was it? Yes, yes, Mr. Book Uncle can certainly apply for a non-commercial permit.”

I am speechless. Dumbstruck. You could knock me down with a raintree flower!

What? That's all he can say? A non-commercial permit? And how long will that take? How much will it cost?

Was the istri lady right? Now that he is elected, Karate Samuel thinks he can brush us all away. He wants to forget all about us.

—

My Voice

WHAT CAN I
do? I have to do something.

I do the only thing I know how to do. I open the book in my hand to page one, and I read out loud.

“A true leader seeks to help those who are doing good.”

I read it twice, and suddenly the words are clear and true. The last time I read this book, its words blurred on the page. They made no sense. Now I really understand what Book Uncle means when he says, “The right book for the right day.”

Today is the day. This is the book.

So I use my best listen-very-carefully voice. The voice that Mrs. Rao uses when she tells us something really, really important.

“Here are all these people who voted for you because they thought that you would do good. So … will you … please tell us …”

At this point, I am shocked to find that my throat gets tight. This has never happened even once in my life. My hands get sweaty. My listen-very-carefully voice has holes in it. I cannot say another word.

What do I do now? I have no other kind of voice left.

Then, just when I can see that those chickens I counted (too soon) are starting to roll away like lost marbles …

THAKKA-THAKKA-THAAM-THAAM!

A perfect drumbeat sounds from just behind me.

Thakkitta-THAAM! THAKKA-thim
mi-thaaam!

And something magical happens. My voice returns and it is stronger than before, an A-One campaign-perfect, I-mean-it kind of voice. I tell Karate Samuel all about Book Uncle. How he has books for everyone. How he loves each book like a friend, and all he wants to do is share his books with the whole city, with anyone who wants to read one. He can't afford to pay for permits. They will take time. We can't wait for that. We need him back now.

“If you are a true leader,” I say, “then you tell me. Why do you have to have a permit in our city to do good things?” And I hold out the karate book.

Mayor Karate Samuel reaches out a hand. He takes the book from me. He opens it. He stares at it. He stares some more. He looks up and stares at me.

If there was a feather handy, I could have tried it out to see if it worked as a knockdown weapon.

Then the new mayor smiles a slow smile.

I recognize that smile. It is the smile I smile when Book Uncle finds the right book for the right day, just for me.

“A true leader …” Mayor Samuel whispers, and he turn-turn-turns the pages. “You have more like this?” he asks.

Book Uncle folds his hands and tips his head and beams at the mayor through his super-thick glasses.

“Many more,” he says.

I nod-nod-nod my head.

The mayor looks at Book Uncle. He looks at me. He straightens up. He takes a breath. We all wait — kids and grown-ups, babies and yappy dog and donkeys — all of us together.

“You, sir,” says Mayor Karate Samuel, his best hero voice ringing out, “will get your permit — FREE! It will be issued at once, express-track, I promise you. I will see to it myself.”

The crowd goes wild. We roar and cheer, clap, foot-stamp, drum, dog-yap, donkey-bray, baby-babble, sing snatches of songs from Karate Samuel's movies, and shout, “Hiya!”

—

Book Uncle's Place

IN JUST A FEW
more days, an even bigger crowd shows up on the corner of St. Mary's Road and 1st Cross Street to celebrate the now officially permitted Book Uncle's Free Lending Library.

There are so many people that the city has to close the road to cars and buses and autorickshaws, bikes and motorbikes and scooters and anything else with wheels.

People and animals are allowed, which is good because Anil has brought his dog, Bubbles. He has also brought the students and the teacher from the karate studio where he takes lessons. They are all wearing their white uniforms with brightly colored belts. Anil's is blue.

All this time I did not know that about him. He is a blue belt.

The istri lady's whole family is here again, along with their three donkeys, who have to be scolded for trying to eat the flowers tucked into Mrs. Rao's hair. A troupe of acrobats has arrived from somewhere. I have never seen them before, but their leader seems to know Book Uncle.

Mayor Karate Samuel cuts a ribbon. Musicians play. Dancers dance. Jugglers juggle. Book Uncle's patrons wander around looking pleased. Acrobats leap over poles. Karate champions block, punch and kick. Mrs. Rao dabs at her eyes with the end of her sari.

She is not sad. She is very, very pleased that we have learned to be such fine citizens. Our school bus driver belts out his A-One favorite songs from Karate Samuel's movies. He sings them at the top of his voice. We all sing along and clap our hands and stamp our feet in time.

And here is Book Uncle. He cannot stop smiling. He sits in a chair next to his books. They are laid out in perfect stacks. The fruit man and his wife have helped Book Uncle set up this fine new reopened lending library.

Look at the pavement — newly patched! Nice and even. No broken bricks.

And just look at the new and improved sign, relettered and sharpened up.

Books. Free.

Give one.

Take one.

Read-Read-Read.

UMA KRISHNASWAMI
is the author of more than twenty books for children, from picture books
(The Girl of the Wish Garden
,
Bright Sky, Starry City
and
Out of the Way! Out of the Way!)
to novels for young readers
(The Grand Plan to Fix Everything)
. Her books have been published in eleven languages and have been picked for CCBC Choices, Parents' Choice, IRA's Notable Books for a Global Society, the Scientific American Young Readers' Book Award, Bank Street Best Books of the Year and the Paterson Prize. Originally published in India,
Book Uncle and Me
won the Scholastic Asian Book Award and the Crossword Book Award.

Born in New Delhi, Uma teaches at Vermont College of Fine Arts in the MFA program in writing for children and young adults. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia.

umakrishnaswami.org

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