The stone structure and the moss that accumulated on the roof made it look quite decent. It was a two storeyed bunglow that had an old-timed look to it. It was raining heavily on that day, our car broke down in those heavy rains, and we had taken refuge in an old bunglow that Tej Narain had seen. Memories of that wet, rainy, August night, when I met Major Sher Bahadur Singh.
Out of the many books that he had written, this was unique as only three editions existed in this world. It contained detailed maps, pencil drawings, photographs of wild beasts and some notes. It was penned and gifted to me, or so I thought, by Major Sher Bahadur Singh, a famous wild hunter, ornithologist, avid sportsman and environmentalist, and was a account of the many wild encounters with beasts. I had read it a long time ago and I immediately took it in my hands and started to turn the pages over. But it still had a good feel about it and I, at once remembered it. It was hard bound and the pages were yellow and old and somewhat torn.
Suddenly my eyes rested on a very old and large volume that stood in a corner of a shelf. It was close to ten at night and I sat, wondering on a suitable place to keep the new collection, when my eyes wandered at the long queue of books and volumes that adorned my shelves. Some asking questions, some eager to know what was it that inspired me to write, some were just there to catch a glimpse of the hustle bustle that was going on. I sat in my armchair, after a long and busy day at the Town Hall, where I had to attend the inauguration of my collection of short stories.