A library that rose from the ashes
SOME places announce their importance; others reveal it slowly, like a story that refuses to hurry. The Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA), Mussoorie, belongs to the latter category. Its aura hints at the weight of governance, but deeper lessons unfold quietly, away from lecture halls and parade grounds.
In mid-1984, a devastating fire caused by a short circuit destroyed a block of the academy, including the library. More than one lakh books were lost. The library was the intellectual spine of the academy, serving probationary officers who were to administer districts and ministries across the country. After the blaze, it existed in fragments — spread across three locations, one section opposite the Director’s residence.
In March 1986, a young man, Prem Singh, was deputed as the librarian and given the formidable task of rebuilding the library. For him, shifting from Delhi University to LBSNAA was like stepping out of an ocean into a well. Initially, he thought of not staying back. Then an intervention came — not as an order, but as an invitation from then Deputy Director, S Parthasarathy, who asked him to stay for two days as the academy’s guest. “If you still wish to leave, no one will stop you,” he said gently. The man returned to the library that evening and stood there, listening to the place. Those two days were indeed decisive.
The days that followed were busy, often exhausting. Yet, something was happening silently long after the academy’s office hours. One such late evening, then Director, RN Chopra, noticed something unusual. The library door was left open, an anomaly in a place governed by timetables. Curious, he knocked. Inside was the librarian, alone — sleeves rolled up, a dusting cloth in hand. On paper, his role was clear; in practice, the job defied neat definition. There were acquisition plans to be drawn up, correspondence to be revived, catalogues to be reconstructed, systems to be imagined anew. When told that staff shortage and fixed timelines left little choice, the Director remarked, “You are employed as a librarian, not as a cleaner,” and left.
The words did not interrupt the rhythm of work. Shelves were wiped clean, corners cleared, surviving books sorted and restored to order. There was a self-imposed urgency to make the library usable and worthy for the probationers. In time, the same Director entrusted Prem Singh with additional responsibilities, a quiet acknowledgment of his devotion to his job.
The library, which I had seen in drafts and architectural sketches, is now housed in a new building. When I think of LBSNAA today, I remember that unlocked library door in the evenings. Inside, knowledge was rebuilt patiently, shelf by shelf, without ceremony. The library rose from the ashes like a phoenix — through hands willing to do unseen work and the patronage of bibliophiles like S Parthasarthy and BN Yugandhar (the latter succeeded Chopra as Director).
Perhaps that is how institutions truly endure — not through grand gestures alone, but also with quiet persistence.
