Asiatic Library with its town hall flight of steps, Cinderella-like from afar and chipped and battered up-close, a promised haven of untouched library treasures locked deep in unreachable and (more importantly) undecipherable metal chests, is an exercise in shedding. At the door, I am shed of my backpack. Name in the register, token in hand, I place the carcass among the deposited bags; it folds in on itself, forlorn. In my arms, I juggle a laptop, two notebooks and a fountai