I feel like a 'somebody', a 'honu' in academia, when library-hands, instead of self-styled intellectuals -recognise me, and breed familiarity through lines like..."Ah, hello there, why didn't you come yesterday, had reserved this book/article/journal especially for you..." Oh...it makes my day. Everytime. :-)...
For these are the men who have hobnobbed with the doyens, known them when they were no more than hapless, eager wannabe's; helped them out, when they had racked their brains for a very important piece of data, or that particular, now-rare edition; spent sleepless days and nights on end sharing (and almost always, alleviating!) the frustrated agonies of writer's/researcher's blocks!
The warm tone of familiarity in their old, crackling voices therefore reassures me, just like the smell of old, crumbling, dog-eared fairy-tale books. And nestled safely in the nimbus of such a vast knowledge-sphere,a vastness unbound by 'degrees' and 'laurels', I smile to myself; for, I have a feeling, i too shall make it, i am in safe hands...make it to the list of shite-academics! And all because of unsung heroes as these...
