Amidst walls lined with tall cupboards and a collection of books that remain largely untouched, students hunched over their academic textbooks and laptops fill the long wooden tables inside the People’s Free Reading Room and Library in South Mumbai’s Dhobi Talao.A 181-year-old institution, People’s Free Reading Room and Library is a library of a unique kind. For most students and readers, the Dhobi Talao library serves as a quiet corner away from the city bustle where they flock with their own reading material to study in peace. Its own rare collection of books, ranging from editions of the Shahnama in French and Persian, and illustrated copies of Punch, meanwhile gathers dust amidst lack of demand.“Nobody is referring to the library books. They bring their own books and study,” said librarian Gulshan F Cooper, who has been working at the People’s Free Reading Room in Dhobi Talao for 46 years.The People’s Free Reading Room and Library traces its origins to the Bombay Native General Library, established in 1845, as recorded on plaques inside the premises. Supported by donations from prominent citizens such as Sir Jamsetji Jeejeebhoy, Jagannath Shankerseth and Cowasji Jehangir, it functioned as a public reading space for decades. While the library initially operated out of Fort, a fire in 2000 forced its collection to be shifted permanently to Dhobi Talao. In 2018, it issued a public appeal seeking over Rs 1 crore for restoration and operations, followed by another during the Covid-19 pandemic to prevent closure. While these efforts helped raise funds for repairs and upkeep, they did not revive memberships or reading activity.Over four long decades, Cooper has watched reading habits change. What was once a lending library is now used largely as a reading room, with most visitors bringing their own books despite the institution’s collection of rare items. “Day by day the reading habit is diminishing. They say, ‘Madam, when we get ready information on mobile, why should we go through books?'”, she said.The numbers reflect that change. The library now holds around 19,000 books, a sharp drop from the more than one lakh volumes it once had. “Previously, we had more than a lakh books. But they were in very bad condition, torn, with worms and all so we had to remove them,” Cooper said. While its collection of rare volumes ushered in researchers aplenty, Cooper said that it is only the students, besides occasional visits by professionals working in the area, who sustain the library.The cultural shift has also mattered to the library’s economics. The library charges Rs 500 a month for its ‘students’ corner’, where readers bring their own material or work on laptops. In contrast, its life membership, priced at ₹10,000 has drawn little interest. Cooper said, “Who will pay Rs 10,000 in one time? Because of the high cost of living, nobody is willing to take up lifetime memberships.”Story continues below this adRelying largely on student footfalls and occasional donations to sustain itself, the library is open to readers from 9 am to 7 pm on weekdays and till 1 pm on Sundays. “While the library runs because of student members, we need more funds to pay a fair salary for the employees,” said Cooper.Running the library has also become more expensive. “The cost of papers and books is increasing day by day,” Cooper said. “Interest rates have reduced, so we are getting very less income. Donations are also dwindling.”According to library operators, new books continue to come in through donations, including Gujarati titles from the Maharashtra Gujarat Sahitya Academy, along with English, Hindi and Marathi contributions.The institution is managed by a board of trustees, with author Jerry Pinto serving as chairman. Funds raised during the pandemic helped renovate the space, but sustaining it remains a challenge.Story continues below this adAcross south Mumbai, several old libraries and bookshops have shut down over the years. Cooper sees the same pattern reflected here. “Every library has the same complaint. They say it is difficult to go through all these books and even browsing has become difficult,” she said, adding, “If they are not willing, we cannot force them.”After nearly four long decades at the same desk, Cooper has seen the space quietly shift from a place meant for reading to one used largely for sitting and studying. “Those days are gone,” she said. She pauses, “People come here. But not for the books.”